Like this:

Three weeks ago, I handed in my 360-page dissertation, an anxiety-producing, anti-climatic moment after the bells and whistles of the defense and graduation. I also finished teaching my last class at the University of Oregon and submitted an article for publication (about Bosnian Roma in Fargo). A week later – and with tremendous help from my dad, uncle, and friends – I packed and loaded my things into a U-Haul trailer, a minivan, and my 1996 Honda Accord, and moved away. In between these momentous tasks, I hosted family for 10 fun-filled days of graduation and bid farewell to friends and to Oregon, my home state for seven of the last eight years (I spent one year in Fargo, North Dakota doing dissertation research). After a 5-day pit stop in Minnesota to see family and to take advantage of my parent’s generous offering of some furniture, my dad and I headed east to Indiana, my new home. Just before throwing in the towel and heading to an apartment complex for an easy rental, my dad and I found a cute house and that same night, I agreed to live there. It has 3-bedrooms (which I got to paint!), a dining room, living room, kitchen, bathroom, laundry room (with a nice washer and dryer), large backyard, garage, and shed – all for $600/month AND it’s close to campus! The landlord included a nice lawnmower in the deal! Seems too good to be true and it was. I failed to notice it is located next to railroad tracks, but I’m hoping that I will quickly grow accustomed to the loud horns every few hours, including night time. It also came with a bad flea infestation and fleas LOVE me. I mean they give up everything to move into my space and eat me alive. I am their dream come true. They love, love, love me. I have hundreds of bites all over my body and they all itch. My landlord bombed it before I moved in and I vacuumed religiously for days, but they would not leave me alone so the landlord hired an exterminator. The little blood suckers are dying but they are not all dead yet. I began writing this post in a laundromat, washing my flea-infested bed sheets because I didn’t have hot water in my new rental house until yesterday.

In a word, these last few months have made me feel numb. I think the numbness comes from the months-long transition in which I am currently embroiled: if I could separate out the feelings, I think I would find elation (it is great to have a good job and a career for the first time in my life – it is, after all, what I’ve been working for all these years), sadness (leaving Oregon friends and my Oregon lifestyle and Oregon weather was hard), upset ( finishing a dissertation is upsetting if nothing else), excitement (believe it or not, my well of excitement has not dried up), and frustration (dissertation, teaching a summer class, goodbyes, moving, fleas – need I say more??). Even though I’m in a new place about which I know very little, I do not feel discombobulated. Feeling like a stranger in a strange land is my thing; it’s what I do and it motivates me. After all, this is not the first time I have moved to a new place, knowing no one; in fact, it’s the 8th time.

I finish this post in a downtown restaurant/coffee shop/bar, which is located on a cute downtown street next to a decent number of other bars, coffee shops, restaurants, and stores. Before biking to explore this downtown location, I bought my first turntable along with a receiver and speakers. I can finally play the vinyl albums I have been collecting here and there for years. I bought each of these components at separate pawn shops, one of which was a fun, college-kidish record store which I will probably visit often. I also bought a used DVD player to go with my old TV and a few lamps. There’s nothing like pawnshop shopping to get settled, relax, and get to know a new area and people. At one of the places, they were giving away garden tomatoes! I took three.

I like transitions. Unfortunately, they come with growing pains (in this case, painful, itchy growing pains) but also new people and more knowledge, so I raise my pint of Indiana India Pale Ale (not bad!) to Transitions with a capital T, and hope for the best.

Some highlights from the drive, beginning with my farewell to the Oregon coast and dunes:

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