In the last 8 years, I have not spent longer than a year and a half at the same address. In college, like most students, I vacillated between dormitory life in the fall and spring and my parents’ house in the summers. Even when I would return to TCNJ for the fall and spring, I would be in a different building entirely, completely negating any sort of consistency to my seemingly nomadic life.
In veterinary school, I lived in three different locations. That does not even include my time in the summers when I essentially did not live in my apartment but instead in the dormitory at New Bolton Center. Nor does that include time during my third and fourth years during which I spent approximately twelve weeks at different clinics, alternating between hotels, friends’ homes, and shared houses with ten other extern-mates/complete strangers.
Even though I thoroughly enjoy traveling and exploring different parts of the world (as I write to you from the San Francisco Airport), I so desperately long for a “home base.” I will spend one year at my upcoming internship, living with my three intern-mates. After that, who knows where I will end up? If I am accepted into a residency program, that means three to four years at what I can only hope will be the same location. In a way, it is kind of exciting to not know where I will end up or where my life will take me. The type “A” part of me, however, is silently (not so silently) freaking out.