Ramblin Woman.

Are you there, God?  It's me, Mingni.

It seems like I tend to have a mild identity crisis every time I go home.  I get so excited at the anticipation of seeing all of these people that I like, having tea at Madeleine's, macaroni at the Elk, and a drink at Zola, having Mark cut my hair, playing in Liberty Lake, and doing all of the other things that encompassed my upbringing.  So I go, do all of those fabulous things, and then comes the rain.  Usually an entire day I spend traveling to wherever it is I am going is tainted by this lingering knot in my stomach.  Do I hate Spokane?  Why is it that I really keep leaving?  Is it really disdain for this place?  Doubt it.  Certainly isn't the people, for I can think of no other place where I possess such a concentration of humans I like.  Plus, I now have a snuggly goddaughter to love and not miss out on at all times.  If this all fell apart tomorrow, you bet your ass I would be lugging my tambourine to Kirsten's house on the North Side to hibernate for the winter.  

This weird psycho phenomenon had never been so potent as it was this last journey.  I had just come off of an enchanting trip to Thailand, spent two glorious weeks on the water with friends and family, and celebrated everlasting love at Rach's wedding.  In hindsight, I could be anywhere right now and probably feeling let down.  I'm bummed out.... and I don't wear that well.  I'm annoyed that I didn't have time to do all the things I wanted and see everyone I like.  I'm jealous of the breezy nighttime weather up there.  I've started to loathe Mexican food. I have to actively remind myself that I would be feeling differently had I chosen to take a new assignment in a new place, rather than returning for another three month stint here.  To be fair, I got over my relocation remorse in about four hours when I ran off to NYC and PHX.  However, I cannot help but admit to the fact that the thrill in McAllen is gone.  One of my favorite aspects of travel nursing thus far has been the thrill of figuring out a new place.  Scouting out the grocery stores, weaving through the highway system, finding places to hike, scouring for a local concert.  Meh, I've done all of those things here.  I'm over it.  I need a life coach to follow me around and constantly spit affirmations of perspective in my face, like:

"It's only three months"

"This job is ideal"

"There are people without jobs at all"

"You ARE close to the beach"

......."GET OVER YOURSELF, PRINCESS."

Am I really so habitat-ADD  that I'm over a new place after a mere two months?!  Doctor, doctor,  gimme the news.... I got a bad case of ants in my pants.  

I promise, I do love this life.  Nothing exhilarates me more than new faces and places, and I'll probably be over this in like, half an hour.  I just should have known better than to think I'm mature enough to stay still for a minute.  

Note to self:  subpar levels of assignment enthusiasm conjure remorse over leaving home. Yikes. I'm pathetic.