Graduation

The weeks leading up to my inevitable departure from UMass Amherst are but a blur at this point, a torrent of papers, finals, and tough goodbyes. I remember having to check the "One Way" box when purchasing my flight, which at the time seemed like exile, or even a death sentence. I remember sitting in Marcus Hall for the last time, frantically typing away at my Machine Learning final, wondering when I'd next see any of the people around me. I remember walking out of my last class, a 4 PM history GenEd about the American family. I remember the strange feeling of seeing my bedroom empty, something I hadn't seen since I moved in nearly two years prior. Compared to the next steps in my life, these memories are fairly small events, which somehow makes them more important, you know?

May 17^th

I'm happy to report that my last moments on the East Coast were not squandered. Despite being given enough clues and slip-ups to paint the picture pretty vividly, I was still shocked to walk into a room at Dave and Buster's and find my friends all gathered together. This was great for a few reasons:

1. I have some pretty sweet friends.
2. Dave and Buster's is my jam.
3. I got to say all my goodbyes at once, and go out with a bang.
4. Alcohol.

It goes without saying that I had a blast, and though it gets a little fuzzy towards the end, I doubt I'll be forgetting it any time soon. So thank you to my thoughtful, wonderful parents for pulling the whole thing together, and my friends for being there.

The Departure

Leaving is hard. Even once you've said all the proper goodbyes, it's hard to leave if you don't know when you're coming back. My grandma tried to play it like I would never see her again, and while she very well may be right, I wasn't ready to admit that to myself. But time marches on, and with the help of my good friend Pat K., I made it to the airport well ahead of schedule, packed with everything I could fit into a mid-sized suitcase. With two hours to kill, I did what any reasonable person would do and got belligerently drunk off of martinis at the airport bar. Good times.

I don't know exactly when I had the idea to live in a van, or where I first read about people who had done it. What I do remember, distinctly, is finding out how outrageously expensive it was to live in the Bay area.

Let me set the stage: It's 2014, and I've just found out that I'm going to be interning at Google in the summer. I start looking at the corporate housing options, and find out that the cheapest options are nearly $100 a night. Having enough on my plate at the moment, I bite the bullet and find some roommates for the four person, two bedroom option. The summer starts, and I'm having an amazing time, but as I start to settle into a routine, I notice something fairly tragic: for all the money I'm spending on this apartment, I'm hardly ever there! I wake up, catch the first GBus to Google, work out, eat breakfast, work, eat lunch, work, eat dinner, hang out at Google, and eventually take a bus home, pack my gym bag for the next day, and go to sleep.

Once I realized I was only ever at my stupidly expensive apartment to sleep, I started hatching my plan.