Driving Lessons

Since most visits that involve my Mother are usually as painful as a trip to the dentist, I was bracing myself for one of these experiences as my parents volunteered to help me get settled into my new apartment this weekend. (Naturally my mother would time it so they skipped out on all the heavy lifting.) The day actually went quite well with minimal complaining from her, even when they gave her chicken instead of shrimp at Chili's. (SHOCKER!) And so, I went to bed Saturday night quite settled.

Cut to Sunday morning - What should have been a routine trip to IKEA turned disastrous. My mother, who hasn't driven since 1979 and who always plays backseat driver, is in the car with me (and my Dad) when I attempt to park in a spot in IKEA's underground garage that happens to be next to a concrete pillar and smack the right side of my car into said concrete pillar.

OH MY GOD! HOW COULD YOU DO THAT? THE CAR ISN'T EVEN PAID FOR! IS IT OK TO DRIVE IT!?

To add insult to injury, she tells me she quit smoking - as she holds a Marlboro Light in her hand and strikes a match. Great, my fender bender has caused my mother to relapse into the hands of Nicotine addiction.

This is how most of my interactions tend to go with her though, really. For every 5 great things she does/says, there is always one naggy, sarcastic, judgmental thing/sentence that will destroy the balance - bringing all the compliments crashed down like Jenga blocks.

Thankfully the rest of the day went according to plan: Her spending lots of money on things for my new apartment that I probably don't need but didn't complain about getting, followed by several hours of her standing around ordering my father to assemble, hammer, nail, screw, hang and arrange everything that she just purchased.

...............

I love my new apartment.

Growing Pains

At some point in our lives, we're supposed to reach adulthood. You know, the moment that the perfect job, house and family that you dreamt about as a kid eventually starts to become a reality. Yeah, that hasn't happened for me yet. I get this suspiciously nauseated feeling anytime someone calls me ma'am or implies that I have responsibilities of any sort. The thought of being someone's wife makes me want to throw myself off a cliff. And having babies? Forget it - you might as well be burning me at the stake. But at 26, what can the world really expect of you? You're basically just a few years out of college, getting your bearings like a freshly birthed calf. I barely have a job that can be considered more than a glorified receptionist position and can almost pay rent on time if I eat ramen noodles 6 days a week. Now you want to add getting married and bearing children on top of that? I don't think I like the sound of this growing up thing. Nope, not one bit.

Of course, continuing to live it up as though you're still in college on the weekends tends to give more straitlaced people a biased opinion of your life. They give you the side eye when you talk about blacking out and not remembering your Saturday night or how you woke up naked in bed clutching your sandal. Hey, just because I like to party a little doesn't mean I'm not serious about my future. I have life goals just like anyone else. Of course, these tend to involve finding a divorcee going through a midlife crisis who has managed to avoid having his ex wife bleed him dry & being my sugar daddy for a bit while he enjoys the hot young arm candy and blowjobs his wife has withheld from him for the last 15 years. I don't think this makes me a whore, I think this makes me smart. A wise old man I used to work with told me once: "Find an old guy with a house, a car and a lot of money. Then marry him and give him a heart attack. Then you can marry whoever you want after that because you already have a house and money." Truer words were never spoken.

New Beginnings

About a year ago, I moved to Philadelphia to make a new start for myself. New job, new apartment, new life. 10 months of working out the kinks, I think I might just be starting to get this thing right. Tomorrow I take the first step out into the world of true "adulthood". I am moving into my first solo apartment - no more roommates or parents or live-in awful (ex) boyfriends. Just me, myself, on my own. Paying my own bills, making my own mess.

Does it scare the shit out of me? Of course. Am I worried that I am going to fall flat on my face? Absolutely. Like a baby bird trying to fly for the first time, I am standing on the pavement shuddering and flapping my wings a few times before taking flight. I will possibly take a short trip a few feet down the sidewalk and inevitably stop and try to start this whole thing over again, but one day I will get it right. I will lift my wings and flap and catch some air and soar up, up, up into the sky, never looking down, never looking back. Flying free.

I am just a 20 something girl going on 30 and trying to spread my wings and learn to fly into the world of Adulthood.

This is my story.