Kansas

My dear friend Kate (who made the fantastic header to this site) has been asking me to post a real blog.  It’s really too bad Paris is so boring that she has to read my blog.  Kansas is definitely more fascinating.  Always has been, always will be, and she knows it.  🙂  And, in the next paragraph, I intend to prove this.

Anyway, I’m Sarah.  As I write this, it is 2:08 am CST and I am lying in bed in Kansas.  Futurama has given way to less quality shows on Comedy Central (I am currently listening to the “Guitar Hero” episode of South Park), but I have yet to get up and change the channel.  I’m wondering where my cat is–she is like a toddler and follows me everywhere, so her absence is kind of unsettling–and wondering when I’ll get to see I Love You, Beth Cooper (about which I am inappropriately excited).  If I don’t see that in the next couple of days, I’ll probably end up cleaning the house and watching TV.  Exciting stuff!

I have lived in Kansas for ten and a half years.  Before that, I moved around pretty frequently.  It still takes a lot to convince me to unpack my boxes when I move to a new place (though, that could be partially due to laziness and/or a burning desire to keep things in labeled boxes.  Labels are my thing.  I love organization.  I’m thisclose to getting a label maker), despite the fact that my stays in different states got progressively longer as I grew.

Not long ago, a coworker and I were talking about how frequently we had moved, how many schools we had attended, and so forth.  I’ve lived in seven cities (one twice) in four states, and attended eight schools before attending college (K-12), and as of this coming fall, I will have attended four colleges (thanks to summers at the local community college and and a transfer from one university to another).  That’s twelve schools total, unless my math is off–one of the downsides to moving so much (and, really, one of the few.  I loved my nomadic childhood.) is that you repeat certain things in education and miss out on others.  More than most people I know, excepting kids whose parents are in the military and my mom.

Anyway, before the sighs and get-to-the-points begin, I’ll get back on track.  I’m in Kansas, doing the things I said above and reflecting on the things that have happened in the past because, in just a couple of months, I’ll be moving to Boston (hence the name of the blog) to attend grad school.  This will be the first move for me that takes me farther than two hours away from my family.  That will be strange, because even when I was in undergraduate school, I could come home for breaks and maybe free use of a washing machine and some groceries.  This will also be the first time I’ve been without a car since I was sixteen.  Here in Kansas, everything is so spread out that some people assume anyone who is walking down the street is homeless or intoxicated.  (Unless they’re in workout clothes, though that could really be anything here.  I’ve seen people jogging in jean shorts and flip flops.  Not pretty or safe.)

I wonder if people jog in Boston.  The streets are so crowded.  Add that to the list of things to keep an eye out for.

Kansas is a good place to raise a family.  It’s pretty safe and has good schools.  There is a surprising number of huge companies based here (even Disney has some major corporate things here, from what I understand, but I gather they’re pretty secret.  If I disappear after posting them, please check the dungeon in the castle at Disney World) and an even larger number of retirees.  It’s a nice place.

But, I’m twenty three years old and ready for an adventure.  Ever since I was a kid, I wanted to move to the East Coast.  I’d see NYC, Boston, or D.C. in a movie and think, “That’s where I need to go.”  I never really had a plan about what to do when I got there (OK, I admit, Broadway actress and/0r poor street performer with a guitar were on the list–I even tried to learn guitar), but I knew I needed to go.  And, thanks to my decision on a more realistic career than those above, I have a grad school that has graciously allowed me to move up there.  I am so excited/scared/in need of a new wardrobe.

Boston, here I come!

Coming up soon: Common myths about Kansas, Kansans, and whether or not I’ve ever met Dorothy.