In the spirit of all good holiday letters, allow me to regale you with tales of my past year. In January, I moved into Brenda's apartment in Pentagon City, Virginia, little suspecting that my nights would soon be filled with Trading Spaces, bottles of wine, kickball-related outings, and Jake (the biggest, sweetest, klutziest kitty EVER).
The subsequent months were spent writing my senior honors capstone, "From Matka Boska to Matka Polka: The Catholic Church and Women in Poland." I also continued teaching for the Princeton Review, working at the New Media Center, assisting various professors in classroom, and freaking out over graduate school applications. In March, I received my acceptance to the University of Minnesota's PhD program in Political Science, and was able to stop freaking out about graduate school and recommence freaking out over my capstone.
In May, I finished my capstone and the next day graduated magna cum laude from American University with a BA in International Relations and Philosophy. Apparently, it's all in the timing. I continued working for TPR and the NMC, but spent most of my time developing the greatest gig ever. That is to say, I spent July in Krakow, Poland as a program assistant to an AU professor and six Masters students. I had the time of my life--and got a tattoo (it's the Celtic Four). August was full of sorrow, as I prepared to move out to Minneapolis all by my lonesome. There was much crying. And crying. And did I mention the crying? How could I leave these people behind? I was concerned.
The September drive to Minneapolis was looooooooong (and flat). Due to U-Haul's unbelievable levels of suckage, my dad and I both drove our own cars, somehow managing not to lose each other through the countless states and interstates. We listened to a lot of country music. Upon arrival in the Twin Cities, I moved in with Jen, a graduate student in experimental psychology with a beautiful apartment (note: the Christmas tree was not yet up then). Happily, I quickly made friends with several students in my cohort, as we bonded over sporting events, beer, being poor as churchmice, and the 5 BAJILLION PAGES OF READING we were assigned each week. I continued to work for TPR, astounding yet another office with my unerring ability to get completely lost on the way to class. I'm good like that.
In October, November, and December, I read. A lot. I expect to do much of the same in the coming year, in addition to freezing my butt off. Minnesota is cold.
I hope that this letter finds everyone content and in good health. Please drop me a line to let me know how you're doing (or retaliate, and send out your own long-winded holiday letter). Have a wonderful holiday season, and feel free to send me any spare sweaters, coats, shovels, mittens, space heaters, igloos, or other Arctic weather gear you might have lying around.
Peace and love,
