Next week I will, God-willing, turn 26. While birthdays have never been an overly big deal for me, this one is a welcome change. If I'm really honest, I have to admit that 25 hasn't been my favorite year of life and I'm ready to move on. Being 25 for me meant moving all my stuff seven times in twelve months-- SEVEN! It meant one of those seven moves was moving back to MN and leaving Manila indefinitely after just beginning to really feel settled. It meant new jobs, a lost job, a bad job, and now two busy jobs that weren't even on my radar until October. It meant new friendships, old friends, and new sides to old problems i thought were a thing of the past. For someone who likes to have big plans and all the details figured out, being 25 has been exhausting. Sometimes it feels like I'm playing a never-ending game of pick up sticks. Just when it seems I've got everything finally in my hand, a few sticks drop and a few more reveal themselves. This morning I was