There was a three-fold reason for coming home:
1. Escape the New England Winter.
Seasonal depression? Who knew that was actually a real thing? Well, probably a lot of people, including the psychologists who cleverly decided to name it “Seasonal Affective Disorder” in order to give it the acronym “SAD” (aww), but I had never really bought into it. At least until last winter, when I hardly ever saw the sun, and I realized a girl from the desert needs her sunshine. Plus, I hate being cold (which I always am, even though I find people beside me who are sweating) and I hate looking like the Michelen Man because of all the layers I have to wear in order to keep warm. So it made sense to take off the winter term from school.
2. Escape in general
When the going gets tough, the fragile tend to flee. Perhaps that’s the cop-out way to deal with life, but whatever. Sometimes it’s what you have to do, and I had to do it. I was becoming too dependent on the wrong things to make me happy, so I needed a change.
3. Lack of Distraction and/or Increased Productivity Potential
I’m supposed to be working on my thesis this winter. The New England college scene = lots of distractions. Roswell, the wasteland for 20-somethings = few distractions. Therefore, it seemed like the perfect place to discipline myself to write. Also, my third thesis reader –aka my unofficial first reader– lives in Roswell, so I will be able to work closely with her and get substantive and helpful feedback on my first draft. How delightful.
Hence I packed up my CRV to the point where I could only open one passenger door without things falling out, and Mom and I drove 2,500 miles across the country to good ol’ New Mexico. We managed to make it without getting lost or encountering bad weather or killing each other, so I’d say it was a successful venture. My cracked windshield may beg to differ, but we can leave my hatred for traveling through Texas out of this.
They Call Me Fushilou 