Three suitcases. Three massive, empty suitcases sprawled across my Wisconsin living room. Like big, empty animals. Like butchered animals, with their stomachs gaping open. Does that even make sense? When someone butchers an animal, do they open their stomachs? I have no idea. What am I saying?
Last week, I was in Wisconsin. I’m from Wisconsin, so that shouldn’t surprise many people. Last week, I packed up three massive suitcases, the kind you take with you on a long European vacation. And I checked them on an airplane, and I got on the airplane, and I cried on the airplane, and I said goodbye to my midwestern life and transplanted myself to New York City.
I’m here for graduate school, and I’ll be getting two Master’s degrees in two years. And I’m starting a blog, because I think my life might be borderline interesting, and you might think so too. I make no promises. I might write a lot, I might forget this blog exists after a week. I might write about food, clothing, coffee, or really anything else. I might be funny. I might be serious. Lets just figure it out together, okay?
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