Happy 100th post, StepfordHighSchool!

I guess it's somehow poetic or appropriate that my 100th post is my official goodbye-to-Las-Vegas post. Of course, if I blogged more often, I might have made this my 1,000th post, but I can't always think of anything interesting to say. I know that's a shock to anyone who's ever met me.

I have three more full days in Vegas. I've spent a lot of time the past few weeks thinking about the past five years here. How have I changed? What have I learned? Was it worth it?

To answer the last question: ABSOLUTELY.

I'm looking forward to not living in Vegas anymore, because I don't like the weather and I'm not exactly a fan of the "scene" here. But I spent the first portion of my adult life building an existence here. I had a job I loved with colleagues I respected (for the most part). I've made friends who have changed my life in profound and irreversible ways. I've had experiences that will become great stories, cautionary tales, and watershed moments. I'm not looking forward to leaving or saying goodbye.

BTW: I'm about to get all kinds of sentimental. Spoiler alert!

I moved here to prove to myself that I could be an adult; that I could stand on my own two feet without financial help from anyone (and by "anyone," I mean my parents). I wanted to have an adventure and try something that terrified me. This was my crucible. It was my Walden. I moved here so quickly, I didn't really have time to consider the ramifications of what I was doing. There weren't many tearful goodbyes (except for the one with my parents at the airport, but I was trying to not die in a fiery car crash, so that one was cut short). There's a lyric that's been running through my head the past few weeks from a Dashboard Confessional song that says, "I must admit, I thought the trip was better made in younger seasons." I moved here right out of college, and while I did say goodbye to family and friends, I had spend the previous five years at college, and I was in a period of transition to begin with. Here, I'm leaving my everyday life, the places and people I've come to rely on. There are no external factors here forcing a difference in my life. It's just me. This one is just harder for all of those reasons. It was easier before. I didn't have a history anywhere. The longer you stay somewhere, the more there is to leave behind.

I've learned that I can be independent, which I guess I knew already. I've grown up a lot. I look back now and it seems so crazy that at age 23, I just packed up a truck and drove west. 23 just seems so young! I thought I was all sorts of mature and ready to strike out on my own, and I guess I was, but I'm pretty amazed at my bravery. Or foolhardiness. Jury's still out on the correct adjective. I've learned how to ask for help, which has never been my strong point. In all honesty, it still isn't, but I had to learn to rely on my friends, who became my family. I learned how to cook a turkey, because it was Thanksgiving, and I volunteered for the challenge. I learned how to pack and unpack and repack and unpack and repack and unpack, which was how I learned that I hate moving, but I love the freshness and organization of a new place. I've learned that cats with long hair are really pretty, but they are just miniature hairball factories.

I've learned to be alone. Sometimes (especially during the school year), when life gets especially hectic, I think back to my first year of teaching and all the free time I had. I took naps, and tried new recipes, and watched A LOT of TV. But then I realize that those things were to pass the time because I had exactly five friends and I couldn't call them EVERY weekend to hang out with me.

I've learned that sometimes, you have to put your big girl pants on and go ask someone if they'll hang out with you on your birthday, because that might be embarrassing, but it's better than eating a pint of ice cream alone on your couch. Thanks Sean and Gwen for letting me invite myself over for dinner that first year.

I've learned that my mom will always answer the phone when I need her to, despite the three hour time difference.

I know I've changed quite a bit in these past five years, but most of those changes are hard for me to see. I'm not as easily shocked. I like to think I'm less naive. I'm also less impressed, and more cynical.

But at the end of it all, I wouldn't have even made it this far if it wasn't for the people who became my family out here.

Sean and Gwen: my first friends. You let me come over at 10:30 and cry when I had to put my dog to sleep. Gwen, you knew when I needed to vent and when I needed you to slap some sense into me. You encouraged me to go talk to guys at bars and opened my eyes to the beauty that is guacamole. Sean, you introduced me to Sex Over the Phone and let me hang out at your house until 4am playing Streets of Rage II. You got me through those awful teacher torture sessions our first year. You gave me someone to be an Aunt to out here.

Chris and Amanda: Chris, you introduced me to arguing for argument's sake, and the deliciousness of cinnamon rolls with chili. Amanda, you were always up for a night out, and you always invited me. You even wore a sweater so I would feel like less of a moron in my t-shirt and flip flops.

Traci: The other single person in our original group. Of course, you went and got married on me. Jerk. :) But also the only person I know who got a couch out of her house by lowering it from a second story doorway. You are an engineering genius!

Caroline and Lacey who let me be the "other" cheer coach and taught me how to wear heels (even though I essentially failed the lesson). Lacey, I still haven't forgiven you for introducing me to Irish Car Bombs, and Caroline, I expect you to carry me back to my hotel room at my bachelorette party.

Alison, who gave me a place to stay and got excited over all the same geeky things as me. Who gets any HIMYM reference, no matter how obscure, who always honored roommate-bonding night, who endured a fashion show every time I went shopping, and who put up with Guy, whose only real talent is shedding. A lot.

Sheila and Tina, my mentors. My surrogate mothers.

Everyone else who became a part of my life out here: thank you. You made holidays more bearable and homesick days less frequent.

Here's the song that's been running through my head the past few days. I started crying on the way to church last week when I heard it.

Anyway, this is long and not nearly as poetic or poignant as I wanted it to be, but the point still stands. I've had a great five years, and as much as I'm excited to start my next adventure, it's hard to say goodbye.