what ships are made for.

The Moroccan border

This is perhaps the most productive week I've ever lived. Everything is officially in my apartment, along with my new roommates. I have been awake at 5:30am every day, and not going to sleep until midnight (that's not healthy, I know). We've had our first massive dinner, overflowing the place with people and the noise that comes along with them. The fundraiser at the radio station ended, and I put in 30+ hours in the last 3 days. This year, I'll be working three jobs (the radio station, the student association ministry assistant, and President of the Amnesty International club)- doing triple duty and overtime along with a full load. Plus, I'm so new at everything. Like a baby. That's what I am.

WHAT A RUSH!

You'd think I'd be losing it, but it all feels alright. A familiar funky anxiety came over me this week. But it wasn't the death-grip on my heart that anxiety usually feels like. It was the kind of excitement that came over me before I left for Spain a couple years ago- 

The feeling of stepping out into the blatant unknown and being ready for a whole lot of learning, loneliness, fear, happiness, joy, growth, and adventure. Here's a quote that could sum all this up pretty well: "A ship in a harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are made for."