and so it is done

And so it is done: my boss has been told, my 2 weeks notice has been given, and I'm set to move back to DC and start my new job July. What a whirlwind the last few weeks have been!

Of course, I'm excited about the new job and getting to see my friends and family again, but it's not without some sadness to be leaving Chicago, which I still consider the best city in the world. After all, this is really where I came into my own as an adult. It's where I got my first real job; leased and maintained an apartment; bought furniture; learned how to cook; fell in love. Why would I ever want to leave a place that holds so many memories of fond achievements and challenges overcome? It's the first place where I was really and truly on my own, and I can't help but have a special place in my heart for it. Kind of like a first real love, maybe.

I think the most difficult part is the realization that, well...this move to DC might be for the long-run. I never planned to move back to Virginia. Never, ever. I've always wanted to live in a big city, always dreamed of high-rises and ample public transportation (I know; I'm a romantic). Chicago fit the bill to the tee. DC never figured into my plans.

But in a way, this job opportunity in DC follows a trend I've noticed throughout the big decisions in my life. After all, I very narrowly did not come to Chicago at all -- my main plan had been to move to New York City, where I had friends. I still don't know why I picked Northwestern over CUNY. It's much like how I don't know why I pulled myself out of Fulbright consideration when I'd spent 2 years fine-tuning my application. Or why I ultimately picked W&M when I'd wanted to go to UVA throughout high school. Or why I decided to date a guy I'd only known for 2 weeks in a brand new city, who very well might've been some sort of serial killer. (I guess he still could be, hmm.) But I just did. And it's not like I was particularly confident about my decisions afterward. There was always a point where I would just be like "What are you doing???? Why?!?!?!!? What makes you think this is a good idea???????"

That same sort of lost, confused and terrified feeling I felt back then is the same one I'm feeling now, but like even more magnified b/c of the fact that things are more than just about me now. It's also about my Possible Serial Killer Man Friend, who had plans of his own. And those plans def did not include the possibility of settling down in the East Coast. I think we grew up a lot in the last few weeks in having to consider one another as individuals and as partners. At least, that's how I felt; he might just be thinking of ways to use it to his advantage for the rest of our lives.

Hypothetical household dialogue:
T: I want a cookie.
V: No. We're going out to dinner with my parents in 3 minutes, and it will spoil your appetite.
T: I WANT A COOKIE NOW.
V: NO.
T: But I moved all this way from Chicago to DC--
V: Okay, okay, here, eat the %*$@*! cookie.

But I digress. Where was I? Right, so it's like this intense anxiety I have about maybe having just totally screwed everything up is a reminder that there are bigger plans than my own. Everything that came out of this deep crazy lost feeling has always worked out better than I'd ever dreamed. And that's a comforting thought. There are my plans and then there are His Plans. And based on the incredible nervousness I have and my inability to really explain why I'm doing what I'm doing, this DC thing is def part of Plans with a gigantic capital P.

That, or it really is a huge mistake, bad idea, really just screwed everything up, etc. Ahhh! Ahhhh!!!!

overheard

I meant to write this a while back but it totally slipped my mind until Tyler requested that I re-tell this story to his family when we visited this past weekend. So here it is:

Several weeks ago, I was shopping at Ann Taylor LOFT because they were having a storewide sale. I picked out a couple of shorts and sweaters to try on and went to the dressing room, where there were two Indian American girls in the stalls next to me. I had noticed them earlier b/c they looked to be about my age and I was totally and completely jealous that they were laughing and shopping together while I foraged the racks by all by my lonesome.

Anyway, they continued their spirited discussions in the dressing room. Being a shameless eavesdropper and having a lot of experience in girl-talk, my ears immediately perked up at the first whiff of gossip. (The tone in which you gossip is universal, I believe.) This is the amazing conversation that took place:

Girl A: So you know how my brother is living with that girl that he's totally not sleeping with? I mean, like everyone knows that they're sleeping together, but they insist that they're just friends?

Girl B: Oh yeah, totally. Are your parents still pissed about that?

A: Oh absolutely. Because they don't believe them for a second! And you know, they're still very traditional Indian, and they really disapprove of the fact that he's living with this girl. I mean, my brother's all like "We have two bedrooms, and we're just friends," but it's like, seriously? My parents aren't stupid.

B: Right, right. Parents always know.

A: Exactly. Always. So anyway, a couple weeks ago, my parents went over to my brother's for dinner. You know, they meet the girl, and my brother's still insisting that they're just friends and everything. So my mom is walking around the apartment, and I guess they have a cabinet of like nice silverware and whatever. So my mom is looking at it, and she's like "Oh, this is a very beautiful spoon." And the girl comes over and is like "Yes, thank you," and they talk about the spoon and my mom just keeps on admiring it. Like she really likes this spoon. But they go on, they have dinner and my parents leave, and everything is fine, right?

B: Uh oh.

A: Right. Well, a couple days after the dinner, the girl goes up to my brother and is like "I'm not accusing your mom or anything, but the thing is, you know that spoon she was looking at when she came over? Well, it's missing and I can't find it anywhere, and I think maybe she might've taken it." And my brother is like "No way, she couldn't have stolen it." And the girl is like "Well, like I said, I don't want to accuse your mom, but I know she really liked it, and now it's gone."

B: No! No way! Nooooo!! She didn't?!?! There's no way!!!!

A: Hang on, just wait! So finally my brother calls my mom a few days ago and is like "Mom, I'm not accusing you of stealing my roommate's spoon, but the fact is, it's missing from our apartment and she remembers that you really liked it." And my mom goes, "Well, I'm not accusing you of sleeping with that girl, but the fact is, if she was really sleeping in her own bed, she would've found that spoon by now."

/end

I. LOVE. IMMIGRANT. PARENTS.