2015 was a weird year. I’ll say that up front. It’s been weird, and long, and ridiculous, but it’s also been, on the whole, a good year.
I went from being engaged to being, well, not, and have spent the last 11 months of my life figuring out what it means for my life moving forward. To be honest, that’s still nebulous, and I feel like it probably will be for awhile. I’m okay with this, though. My relationship was very much what I needed at the time, and I don’t regret a day of it.
I graduated from college in May, which was more of an accomplishment than it probably should’ve been for all the physical and mental health complications that have arisen over the past few years.
I got into graduate school in Boston, at the premier school in the country for my program, despite all my set backs and, really, my failings, proving that there really is more to a student’s worth than her GPA.
I moved to Boston in June, with no idea what I was stepping into. I was graciously housed by my cousins (my grandmother’s first cousins, so whatever that makes them for me), who really saved my life in more ways than one, and have been more than helpful in this new stage of my life.
I finally got to go to Warped Tour, after 10 years of failed attempts. I went to a handful of other brilliant shows, discovered at least a dozen (if not two) amazing artists, and discovered that Spotify isn’t anywhere near as obnoxious as it used to be.
I moved into an apartment with three girls I had never met, terrified that it was going to be a disaster, and was instead pleasantly surprised.
I got a REAL job, a “Big Girl” job, as they say, working as a content curator for TripAdvisor, which has been invaluable and amazing, and brought me into contact with a couple dozen really interesting individuals whom I’d otherwise never have known.
And I survived my first semester of graduate school. Despite the chaos, the madness, the stress, and the sleep deprivation, I made it through intact and, actually?, happy.