In no particular order, the craziest 3 things I’ve ever done:

• Cliff Jumping in the Caribbean in February 2008
• My living arrangements for Summer 2009
• 3 days in Rome in October 2008

Last night, someone asked me what is the craziest thing I’ve ever done. Aside from the fact that it was a very odd conversation starter, it did cause me to stop and think. After said thinking, I came up with the above list of the 3 craziest things I’ve ever done. I’ll admit, the list may be biased to the present and recent past,  but it’s interesting to pay attention to what I, at the age of almost 22, thought were three remarkable memories. One of them is a single event, the other two are prolonged moments in time. I’ve certainly done a lot of little crazy and stupid things (like punching the ceiling when I was trying to make fun of the guys who lived across the hall from me) but all three things that I actually listed combine and represent times when I did something wholly uncharacteristic to my personality, had a fantastic time, and/or experienced an incredible surge of adrenaline. Feel free to let me know if you think I missed something.

What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?

You would think that after over a year of living in a different place every four months, I’d have this whole moving thing down. But, somehow, I seem to have gotten worse at it. My horoscope for the month said that my home situation around June 7 would be hectic and, hey, what do you know, it was actually right for once because these last few days, while exciting, haven’t exactly been smooth sailing. In fact, they have been a series of minor disasters punctuated by cocktail hour with my uncle. To most of it, I’ve been able to shrug my shoulders and move on, because, in a week, most of it’s not going to matter.

What has become clear in the last couple of days is that there seem to be 3 somewhat universal truths to up and moving to an entirely new place where you only know/are related to a handful of people that you have no idea when you may actually see. (Something I have done 6 times now, if you include summers.)

1) You are reminded of how alone you really are. No matter how many people you meet, parties you attend, places you go, when you reflect on it at the end of those first few days (weeks?), you realize you are so much more alone than in the life you left behind. This phase doesn’t last long (if I remember correctly from past experiences), but the fact that it does exist is often disconcerting.

2) You have to know/learn how to do everything yourself. Whether it’s lugging suitcases, translating documents, or plugging mouse holes in your fireplace with steel wool, when you move someplace new you pretty much have to know how to do everything yourself. Sure, new friends or family will help you with some things, but asking them to do everything quickly puts you at the bottom of future guest lists and makes you look needy. (Always, however, offer to be the person who takes pictures. Don’t ask why, just do it.)

3) You get to start again. When I came to Middlebury, I was a timid little Midwesterner who knew no one and went nowhere. Somehow, that persona stuck for my first few semesters, no matter how much I grew personally. Then, I went to Italy and met people all over again, but this time as the slightly more well-rounded Emily. The result was a person who returned to campus much more self confident and much more outgoing than people remembered and one of my best semesters. My housemates here in Boston have no idea who I am, and there’s something incredibly exciting about that. Who will I be at the end of the summer? Be afraid Mom, be afraid.

Anyway, I start work tomorrow morning, which caused me to have a mini panic attack at the beginning of dinner tonight when I fully realized that a) Shit, I’m starting work tomorrow, complete with real responsibilities (a/k/a a couple million dollars) and b) I’m making my first conscious, drastic career move.

Bring it on.

Buona sera tutti,

-Ems