I will post this. However, I am currently in transition. A dramatic, large and complicated transition to the capital of big hair and home to America’s Team… yes sir, Dallas. I have roamed far from home and found myself in a one bedroom (not-so-glamorous) apartment off LBJ Freeway. I could go on and on about the things I don’t have this week, i.e. couch, mattress, microwave, INTERNET. But, I’m just not that sorta gal (my Texas speak is obviously returning!)

So I’m going to discuss – by myself – a topic which came flying back to me the other night on my Wal-Mart, chiropractic nightmare of an air mattress. You may have even seen me tweet my reminder!

Due to my transition and new position with an out-of-this-world association, it got me to thankin’ about my previous life plans and how OFF I really was… Freshman year of college, my sorority asked us to write a letter to ourselves in four years about what we hoped to be doing. It was a letter to our future selves that would be opened upon graduation and ultimate completion of sororitydom. Cute idea.

My letter was unfortunately lost in a freak college moving incident; however, with a great sense of pride I will attempt to recreate this long lost memoir:

Hey Kristen!!

I know you’re just fabulous!!!! In four years I know you will be picking out your med school and I hope you are super successful!!!! You are going to make the BEST of friends here and you will have the TIME of your life! You will probably be planning a wedding to Jarett * and you’ll have a fabulous relationship! You are soooo lucky and I can’t wait to see what happens!!!

XOXO,

Kristen (hehe)

*Names have been changed, duh

So, yeah. That didn’t work out. I am now well out of college, not applying to med school, just now discovering who I really am and definitely not tying the knot with Jarett.

Kristen’s well-worth-it moral of her ramblings: you can always wish the best for your future and make choices to improve your standing, but what you thought was the best doesn’t always happen (and may not really be the cat’s meow).

Feels like I’m writing the Forrest Gump screenplay. But, maybe we all have times in our lives that are a little Gumpish.  You can enroll in the Army to help serve your country and turn out to be the best ping pong player ever. That’s me, the ping pong Gump.

K