Don't Have to Live Like a Refugee - tom petty

As we began our dissent into cow town, the cloud cover lifted dramatically to reveal a thick white blanket of snow. White. Everywhere. For miles. 18 degrees. The hallway out of the plane ended with a sign that read "Tornado Shelter" and for a brief moment I had a steady visual of the airport being torn in half. I love it already.

J and A's place is more like a small castle. J's grandfather's contribution to her education here was this magnificently cozy condo. Hardwood floors, living room, full kitchen, office, master. Granted this isn't your typical med student's living quarters, I saw myself here: trenching through the snow to class, bundled up, coffee in tow, head full of anatomy... I couldn't wait. I'll probably be living in a tiny one room den above a coffee shop somewhere with an air mattress on the floor and a hotplate... but bring it! I'm here. I'm ready. Let's do this.

It's 6:44am and J and A are still asleep. I kept waking up with weird dreams of riding my dead dog around some neighborhood I didn't recognize and to hack up my lungs. Yeah as much as I'm trying to convince myself I'm not, I'm a sick pup right now. Interview's tomorrow and I think I'm ready. I feel comfortable here. And I REALLY want to get in. This school is PERFECT for me.

Alright I hear movement, I must be off. J's taking me to her behavioral med class. Jealous? You should be ;)