Is there anyone out there?

Many times, as I start to write a new post of this terribleness that I like to call a blog, I wonder if anyone actually reads the garbage I put out there in cyberspace.  I mean, it's a legit question.  Is there anyone that does still read this?  If there isn't, I'll know pretty quickly I think, but still.  Every time I go to start a new post, I think what's the point?  Does anyone actually care what I write, if I write?

This summer I switched back over to writing in a journal of some sort, mostly because in it I don't have to censor myself.  I can write what I want, about who I want, and no one's ever going to read it but me.  On here, I almost always censor, and maybe that's why I see what I post here as garbage that no one cares about.  I'm just not strong enough, emotionally, to write whatever I want and not care.  I also know that at some point in my life, a future potential employer could figure out this is connected to me and I certainly don't want anything that could hurt me on here (but let's be honest, as of now I still want to work in a school system, and no school system in the country has the money to cyber track potential employees).

So really- does anyone even care anymore, enough to read this?

OMG... Packing. AGAIN.

I'm so tired to packing.  I dread it every time I have to do it, and every time I have to, I wait until closer to the last minute every time.  Tomorrow will be the fourth time I've packed up all my clothes in a year.  I'll back up my car to it's bursting point for the fourth time in a year on Friday night.  I'll then drive from Atlanta to Memphis, then Memphis to Dyersburg (that's right, the Big D), Dyersburg to Kansas City, then one really, really long day from Kansas City to Laramie.  Through ALL of Kansas and eastern Colorado... PLAINS for something like 10 of the 12 hour day I'll have next Wednesday.  This is the third time I've driven across the country... seriously.

But, when looked back upon, the packing was worth it.  I was given the opportunity to move to Wyoming for grad school, and proved to myself that I can move somewhere that I don't know a soul, live alone (yeah!), and survive on a graduate student stipend.  I was then given the chance to move to DC (not my favorite city), and work for National Geographic- something I never thought would happen.  It was eye opening, met some great people, learning a lot about myself, and learned to spot people that are fake a little easier.  I learned that I do not want to work in a windowless office just yet, I'm super interested in the uses and applications of GIS technology in the 9-12 classroom (ok... nerd alert over), and that riding a bus every morning for 20 minutes is not my fav thing either.  I then decided to come back to Atlanta- have one more summer.  It's been great- it really has- I've played a lot of ultimate (and managed to hurt both my knees), and done a little hanging out.  If leaving Atlanta last year was the hardest thing I've ever done, coming back was the second hardest.  It's not true that you can always come back.  Things were not what I thought they'd be, and coming to that conclusion and then accepting it.  Yet, it's still been a great summer, and I'm glad I came back.

Now, it's time for me to pack back up.  I'm fighting it every step of the way, and tomorrow morning is basically the last chance I get before I just start throwing things into garbage bags and into the car in Friday night.  Packing, while necessary and one of the more unfun experiences of my life, has come to define it as well.  If you need me, I'm probably packing.