Dear Diary, I am…in Georgia.

Grandpa’s announcement that we were near to my uncle’s home caused me to stir out of my nap. I rubbed my face trying to wake up. Although the car ride had only been five hours from Pensacola, it had been miserable as I had all my junk from freshman year piled in the back seat (my grandma took up most of the trunk space). I was not looking forward to the 17 hour drive back to Wisconsin. Although I enjoyed watching my cousin play baseball later that evening, I was glad when my uncle showed me to my room. Continue reading

Advertisements

Dear Diary, I am…overwhelmed.

My boss just assigned me fifteen projects that are rushed projects due next week—an impossibility! After work, I have to drive to my nanny job forcing myself not to speed, while mentally preparing myself for the mother telling me how busy she is and how it would be great if I could get off of work earlier. Then I deal with a child who doesn’t listen, another one who needs to see the same process 20 times before she understands it (it’s not her fault though, she is a sweetheart), and another who needs help reading basic words. Finally, I rush home at 7 pm, throw some ground beef in the microwave and turn on my computer because I have a blog article due this Monday with my freelance job. I look at the calendar and realize it’s Friday. As the apartment manager, I need to have the carpets vacuumed and the lawn cut, also by Monday. AHHHH.

Continue reading

Dear Dairy, I am…lonely.

I remember thinking how crazy my grad student coworker was by saying that she missed being in college. Working 25 hours a week and taking 19 credits, I thought nothing could be more beautiful than graduating, until it happened. I graduated. I receive a good job, and within months I was living on my own in my own little apartment. I absolutely loved it! I could get in my pajamas right after work, I could come and go as I pleased, wake up and fall asleep when I wanted to—everything was perfect…until life slowed down, and I realized—I was alone. I saw my college friends posting the pictures of all their fun times, and I realized that I was missing out. When I was sad, I had no one to talk to.  When there was an event going on, I had no one to go with. My heart was sad, and it hit me—I was lonely. Continue reading

Dear Diary, I am…in Wisconsin.

I live in Wisconsin, but not for long as I am actually leaving the state. But before I leave Wisconsin, I had to write about it. People don’t think much about Wisconsin—we have our cheese curds, cows, beer, “bubblers,” weird accents (even after having lived in Florida for four years, I still say “bayg” instead of bag). But really, Wisconsin is so much more than that. Really, we are an underrated gem in the treasure box of America.

Continue reading

Dear Diary, I am…being fired.

Thank goodness, not from my full-time job. I couldn’t afford that. But I was fired from my nanny job. I am so angry. Let me tell you! The mom waited for the dad to return home from his business trip. Then without telling me anything, she took the kids out to a restaurant. The kids, MY kids, that I had so many memories with—my fuzzy socks that brought them so much excitement, the boyfriend that the little boy was going to find for me, the countless hours I spent teaching the little girl math. They were being taken away from me, and I didn’t even know it yet. She took them away, and I didn’t even get to say goodbye! Continue reading

Dear Diary, I am…at Ft. Pickens.

Well, not right at this moment, but I was back during my last semester at college. I went to school in Pensacola, Fl. Just a 20 minute drive from the beach—something I happily left Wisconsin and its subzero winters for. Pensacola Beach is nice. Often it is hard to remember things like taste and touch, but when I stepped into the water at Pensacola Beach for the first time, I distinctly remembered how much colder Lake Michigan was, and I called my family into the water saying that this was bath water. But Pensacola Beach, the glowing sand (just a little, not like in those pictures you sometimes see on Facebook), and jellyfish are not what I am here to reminisce. Continue reading

Dear Diary, I am…a writer.

And not just because I decided to start my own blog. I do make a living writing, both full-time and part-time freelancing (I know what you’re thinking, “Who’d she sucker to pay her to write for them?” But believe it or not, I live off my writing. That should give you not-so-confident writers something to have confidence about. If I can do it, anyone can.). The thing I love most about writing is that as a writer you are always (or should be) growing and learning. I know I am. Continue reading