Plans, plans, plans

Tomorrow is my first exam for this block. I feel neither completely ready or hopeless, instead I feel restless. I just returned from a craft store shopping haul, fully confronting my despair wading through aisles of endless Valentine's Day paraphernalia. I came out with a few things that I'm excited to use next month.

I'm still debating on whether or not to include S in my mailing list. On one hand, we have remained amicable, but on the other, why should he get anything? I am reasonable that sending a package of treats doesn't prime the grounds for reconciliation, but not sending one also communicates that too (and less effort!). For now, I have the means to send one if I decide at the last minute, but I think some more doting will have come around first.

I've never fully realized how much this town sucks my desire to do anything fun. I'm constantly counting down to the next holiday or when I get to go home. In applying to residency, I am definitely going to keep location in mind and making it a priority. I refuse to scramble into another little town for the next 3-4 years. If it doesn't work out, then I'll take a year off or something. I just can't handle having a lack of the arts and being in a city that doesn't feel like I belong here. Perhaps I'll feel more hopeful of my prospects after I've accomplished where I want to live.

Part of me just wishes I could fast forward to being 27, where I'll have a moderate disposable income and a place to truly call my own. I was flipping through a blogger's post on her new apartment on Capitol Hill, and I immediately coveted everything that post represented. Financial independence, the beginnings of a family unit, and a lifestyle that is distinguishably her own. Oh geez, the other day, I wanted to berate my ovaries for squealing over these kids. What is it that, at nearly 24 years old, I would even think about tots? I've held so much disdain for them, potentially ruining career trajectories and needing so much attention. On another tangent, I suspect this is how 16 year old girls feel when they experience loss. A baby is the ultimate means of begeting life and something that entirely relies on said girl to prosper. But gah, gross. I don't want to even think about kids anymore. The idea of pushing  a butterball through my cervix is offputting. Just no later than 35 years old.

More seriously though, I have realized that I do want a family and child eventually. This is marked growth since two years ago. And not just that, but a wonderful family. So I've been reading a lot of interesting self-help books on spousal communication and child-rearing because all that advice is no good if it's too late. This doesn't mean that I will settle on the next guy, but it does mean I'm avoiding what will be frivolous. No one-night stands (gross! as if that were ever an issue), no tolerating unhealthy relationships (like my very first one), and no pining. I will be building my proverbial nest, and if the right robin comes along, perhaps he'll want to help.