My overthinking idealist mental to-do lists and “things to worry about” seem to have taken care of themselves for the most part. The past few weeks have gone smoothly (for the most part).

I keep building this experience up in my mind, after living at my house, or what all us twenty-somethings now refer to as our “parents’ house.“ In the past years at home, I made and cemented friendships, had two “real world” jobs in advertising and newspaper, along with one stint as a waitress at the local chain, and had some nice bonding time with the parentals and my little doggie who we lost a few days before I left for school (who I’ll love forever”

On my 25th birthday I didn’t get a cake. No one me gave presents. Well, at least not that night. And I didn’t go out with friends to any trendy bars or restaurants. Instead, I moved from suburbia to Evanston, the home of Northwestern University, to start grad school at Medill’s graduate journalism program. After two years of tears, over thinking, late night T-bell and millions of talks and paths explored, I am finally moved to another state and a new apartment. Today I even did some nailing to put up my Target posters.

My overthinking idealist mental to-do lists and “things to worry about” seem to have taken care of themselves for the most part. The past few weeks have gone smoothly, sort of.

I keep building this experience up in my mind, after living at my house, or what all us twenty-somethings now refer to as “my parents’  house,”  for the past two years out of undergrad. At home, I made and cemented friendships, had two “real world” jobs in advertising and newspaper, along with one stint as a waitress at the local chain, and had some nice bonding time with the parentals and my little doggie who we lost a few days before I left for school (who I’ll love forever).