Proving Youth Isn't Wasted On The Young

Amid all of the growing up I've been doing lately I haven't had as much time to appreciate the perks of youth as I usually do. I love love love being in my twenties. I hope I'll love the rest of my decades as much as this. But when you spend a weekend like the one I just had, it's hard to believe.

As you may have read, I'm in the process of renting my very first, very own apartment. I've been decorating the place in my mind's eye ever since I first saw it, even before I knew whether we'd get it. It's hard to top one's first apartment, especially if one is 25 and has been living at home forever (despite a brief jaunt up to New York).

Saturday I spent showing my future roommate the place and then with my family at home. My brother and an army buddy came up for the weekend. Julia's best friend and her 2 1/2 year old daughter (who is becoming so much fun to play with) came for the week too. Our house was filled with the fun sounds of our family and those friends who feel like family and a child who demanded our finest shoes to wear and ice cream to eat.

That's her over the summer, wearing my pointy toed shoes, those are my barefeet in the background. Who could resist giving her what she wants?

After dinner of suprisingly good lasagne and vegetables that prove my mom was born in the fifties, I went to DC to hang with a friend at a party.

The party was at a friend of my friend's studio apartment. It says a great deal about a group of people that can hang out in a studio apartment and have a good time. It says that we're young and newly liberated and that we don't need a thing like space to have a good time. And it says that the host is an adventurous person who doesn't mind 25 people in an apartment smaller than my new room.

Mark joined me later and quickly became the life of the party, teasing the cute girls (of which there were many) and turning up the music so we could dance. By this point some people had left and so the rest of us joined the dance party that had previously been a single girl. We used Limewire downloads like our own personal jukebox. When the party winded down around 4:30 I gave the dancing girl, a new friend, a ride to the airport, since she was going to be taking the metro and bus in the same direction as me and Mark (who had passed the point of driving early on). Before we left DC she called to doublecheck that she was flying out of Dulles and discovered she was really supposed to be at Regean, so we dropped her off there and headed home at sunrise.

Or, actually we headed to Great Falls and the little hiking trails off of Georgetown Pike, where we climbed a muddy path, crossed creeks, and enjoyed a virginal spring morning by the waterfalls and the silent, silvery spread of the Potomac. After a breakfast in Great Falls we headed back to my place where we crashed while my family got ready to go to the zoo all around. Actually, Mark crashed, I don't know how. I was woken up by hairdriers, shouts of schedules, the smell of pancakes, loud shushes to be quiet! People are sleeping, and the little girl above running around looking like a grumpy angel.

In the evening we headed back to DC to get Mark's car and go to an open bar at Saki with house music. An open bar on a Sunday night from 10-11? Obviously I'm young. I realized this morning that I went out every night this weekend but the only money I spent on drinks was tipping the bartender at Saki. That's a great way to spend a weekend. This weekend is one for the history books or my future books.

Roller Coaster Rides & Apartments

We found an apartment. It was all by chance. I found it and made an appointment to see it butwhen I went in on Friday morning it turned out the one she was about to show me was another 3bd 2ba that was not in our price range but had been renovated, adding on $200. I didn't know this and was disappointed but I figured I was here, I'd look anyway. The lady asked when we were hoping to move and I told her mid May, since everyone I'd talked to had been saying they wouldn't have anything until then, even though we'd been hoping to move the end of April. She continued talking and then paused, thinking and asked if we'd be able to move sooner, because someone had just cancelled last night, a 3bd, 2ba that hadn't been renovated but was within our price range. Yes!! I said quickly, afraid it would disappear before I even saw it.

We looked at it and I was so certain it was for us I could have signed a lease then, but figured I should wait to show it to Julia and Kirby. Julia couldn't make it on Saturday, but Kirby came and took pictures. We filled out the applications and I took them, along with two money orders to the office Sunday. We'll sign the lease Friday and start moving in Saturday. At least, I hope.

When I was a kid and we moved a lot my parents would take us to look at potential houses. The four of us would run though the house, deciding who would get what room, where our toys and stuffed animals would go and what our lives would be like, living in these places. Needless to say, many times I got my hopes up to unattainable levels only to have them dropped back down with a realistic crash. I've always been wary of imagining the future of events that seem certain, ever since. And now, with our new apartment dangling tantalizingly in front of me, promising freedom, shorter commutes, my own decorations and organizations I'm sitting here with my heart in my mouth afraid of that roller coaster fall back down, but enjoying the ride as we go.

The Joys of Apartment Searching

I know I complain on here a lot about the difficulties I encounter in daily adult life. I guess it's because no one ever stops to tell you what it's going to be like when you're a kid. Of course they tell you it's hard and difficult and all that stuff, and sometimes they're right. Sometimes they're wrong. My twenties have been unbelieveably better than my teens. I wouldn't trade these years for anything. At the same time, when you're a teenager you don't have to go apartment hunting.

Apartment hunting for a 3 bedroom apartment reasonably priced (under$1500) reasonably near a metro stop, and with a backporch (we love our backporches) is unreasonably difficult. My sister and I are taking that giant leap into adulthood that we've been dreaming about for years. Problem is, we've only had to dream about it before. It was a nice fantasy, an escape from the annoyances of living at home with your mother, your other sister and her husband, not to mention all the other people who drifted through our home over the past few years.
Now, my mom is putting the house on the market in the next few weeks and Julia and I are getting the boot. We're happy about it, we need to move out and the sooner the better.
Unfortunately, we're having a hard time reconciling our dreams with our realities. Champagne tastes and beer pockets isn't us, exactly. We don't want an apartment that's more like a hotel. We'd feel out of place. But neither do we want a slum. So after weeks of looking I've come back to Julia with an ultimatum. We can have the price and the porch, and we'll try our hardest to get the location, but the time, the distance and the quality might not be what we'd wanted. Meaning, I found us a potentially great place that is further from Julia's job than she'd like, but closer to her school (which she won't be going to next semester, taking a break.), and closer to my school and job. But it's a lot cheaper than we'd thought (bonus!) and near the metro, but isn't available until a month from now (bummer!) I'm getting fed up with practically being laughed off the phone when I call up rental offices and I'm getting fed up with Julia's disappointment when I'm the one doing all the work. I just want a place now. I don't know how much longer I can take living under my mother's roof. I need my own place. I need my own place.

Now I Know Why We Need Cheerleaders

I used to get these panic attacks whenever I thought about my future. I'd get so scared that I wouldn't be able to accomplish all the things I wanted and that I would end up broke and homeless on the street, my teeth falling out and all my belongings in a garbage bag beside me. I'd have grown old without knowing how to grow up. I used to get this feeling when I had to do anything remotely related to paperwork, where mistakes would come back to haunt me, hanging over my head like storm clouds pouring down that rain that leaves you soaked to the bone, and would prevent me from getting a credit card, car, apartment or anything else I might need in this life. I once started crying in the DMV because they had skipped my number and I didn't know how to fix the problem. My mom was with me and she had to go up to them to correct their mistake. It hadn't occured to me that I could just do that.

And when I wasn't worrying about getting a job that would pay me a decent wage I was worrying about how to pay for the stuff I thought I needed, even before I bought it. I had a panic attack when I crunched the numbers trying to figure out if I could move out, if I could buy a car, if I could pay my credit cards off.

Things are going okay right now. I'm not freaking out, even though I know I'll be paying for grad school soon, and moving out of my mom's house for good. But I remember that feeling all too well, and the attitude I took about it, not wanting to think of all the downsides, wanting just to stay in that self contained coccoon of childhood a little longer. Others might be able to do it, but I wasn't ready. I admired the people who could get it together, work as hard as they had to in order to make the money, the grades or whatever it was that needed to be done. I think I'm starting to learn how it's done, but it hasn't been an easy task. Having someone like my sister starting to go through it and needing my help makes me realize I know more than I thought I did. It makes me realize that taking those little steps I insisted on taking on my own--the steps I knew I could handle, and the ones that scared me a little but I knew weren't going to destroy me, helped me build a foundation I could stand on.

Moving to New York, getting a real job- I was just bluffing my way through it all. I was terrified. I had to carry around a Kenyan coin in my pocket to rub when I got nervous. Not because it was a good luck charm in the traditional sense. But because it helped me remember that I had been across the world by myself at 19, and if that worked out well then what could New York give me that I couldn't handle?

There is this list of quotes tacked up on my cubicle wall that I used to look at when I got scared in my grad class. I look at them from time to time, taking little sips of courage from them. Here are two of my favorites:

Many of our fears are tissue-paper thin, and a single courageous step would
carry us clear through them. -Brendan Francis

There are very few monsters who warrant the fear we have of them. -Andre
Gide

I read them when I think my fears are going to come crashing over me and I think about how far I've come and what I've done. It seems like nothing sometimes, and compared to Mozart, or this girl but compared to what I thought I would achieve at those moments when I was scared? They're huge. I also realize just how important it is to have a cheerleader there, someone who will listen to you spout these fears and won't give you solutions. Will be there when you need a hug because you failed miserably and will go up to the frightening DMV people to fix the little things that make it easier for you to tackle the bigger ones. I'm grateful that my mother was this kind of cheerleader and I'm looking forward to being one for my sister and any friend that will take me up on the offer.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Find out what it means to me--OR ELSE!

Man! When the head graphic designer talks down to me like a child it makes me so glad I went to college all those years to be treated this way!
And when I speak to her and she doesn't look at me but goes on with her work as though I'm not there. God I love being ignored as though I'm this pest that she can't be bothered with.
Or when I come into work thinking I look pretty cute in work clothes, which is not that easy to do! And I see her face looking at me with this expression of disapproval. I'm so sorry you can't fit into anything decent and are forced to wear black daily, and clomp around like a tank in ugly clogs.
I really, really wish that things like spilling hot coffee all over her purposefully, or grabbing her shiny, fat nose and twisting weren't considered assault. Or doing things like Amelie does to rude people wouldn't result in me getting caught and fired. Hmm....that is an idea. I wonder what Amelie would do in this situation?
I wish I could make horrible faces at her or kick her cubicle. But I guess part of growing up means not being immature in the work place, right?

Best! Weekend! Ever!

I had pretty much the best weekend ever. Except for a couple of minor things to worry over, I really enjoyed it tremendously. I took Friday off from work, and chose the best possible day to do it too. It was absolutely gorgeous, hot and lazy. Flowers blooming and fat bumblebees buzzing through the perfumed air. I woke up early enough to do everything I wanted, but not so early that I didn't feel rested. Went downstairs for some coffee from my french press coffeemaker, which I miss so much on weekdays, and found a letter from George Mason. I got into their M.A. program in Literature. I have been doing little happy dances ever since, insanely excited about the prospect of returning to school. Getting to read books and study, discuss and think for two years makes me ridiculously excited. I know, I know, huge dork. Unbelievably, but I've been flogging away here in the real world for about 9 months, and the thought of using my brain again, for something I love, is refreshing. Of course, now I'm worrying about how to pay for it, and the thought that I might end up hating what I've spent the past two years preparing for, but if my current excitement is any indication, I've chosen wisely. And, my very dear friend, Corey, of the Corey Beasley Story, will be joining me on the quad, to look cool as usual.
The rest of Friday was spent exactly as I imagined it. I went to get breakfast with the Designer and the Pea, and then took a walk with the Pea, discussing art and Mason. I headed into the city that afternoon for a summer haircut, shopped at Paper Source and Urban and then caught a movie with a friend and had a beer in the summery night.

Saturday I was woken up by Mark to go downtown and check out the National Portrait Gallery with Alex, which if you have not seen yet, I encourage you to do. The three of us meandered through the halls looking at portraits of people we had studied in History, and so much more. The museum isn't named very well, but it is very interesting.

Then, it was off to a birthday dinner where friends from all over gathered together to celebrate Mark's birthday. I won't tell you how old he is, because he wouldn't like that, but it is a very grown up age (something I can't say about him!! just kidding! kinda). It was really nice that everyone was available to celebrate his birthday with him. I'm sure I would have shed a few tears if it had been me, because there new friends and old friends and the friends you make when people grow up, get married and engaged. I had the $20 I had to borrow from Julia to spend, which did not go far.
Afterwards we went to our monthly minimal techno night at Be Bar, where I ran into an old boss from Tower Records. Unfortunately, everyone was drinking around me and I was too broke to even take advantage of the drink specials. We sort of left early, at least early for what we normally do. It was sort of strange going home at 12pm, but also a relief. I felt a little bad though, that all of Mark's friends made an early night of it, but we had all been out to dinner for three hours before, three hours that were hardly seen by a waiter.
Sunday Julia and I started the Great Apartment Hunt, in the rain. It was nice to come home and watch movies after that.

Spring

She looked up from her book and saw the bright sky in front of her as the sun staved off its descent, promising longer and longer days. A feeling of bouancy and life rose up in her as she thought of her plans for the night. A secret smile slipped over her face like a shadow and she thought of all the summer nights that would shortly be coming. She was still young and there were to be many more. Many moments of excitement and hope to come.
She recognized the bouancy in her. It came out now and then and she had been waiting on its arrival so she could turn into her excitable, laughing self again, daring herself and her friends on. It had been a few weeks at least since she had felt this joy rising in her. She felt brave and life and love for everything carried her up higher. Perhaps it was the light, and spring's arrival too. Suddenly she felt alive again, having cast aside all doubts, fear or anxieties like cherry blossoms in a breeze.
She waited for these moments so that life--the life she intended to live--could begin again. She was so young that disappointments in the past were shaken off like cherry blossoms in a breeze. She was young, but better yet--she knew it.

Death & Taxes

I  just paid $408, $408! for someone to do my taxes. Holy Fucking Shit. I don't know how I feel about that. And considering the fact that I owed  less money than that. Wow. The only way I can feel better about that fact is that I had tax forms for 2 different states, one of which is New York. As my taxman (I have a taxman?!) says "New York is pretty hairy." Don't I know it. I lived there for five months, never saw so much hair in my life. Or American Apparel V necked tees. 

And the fact that I get very confused by the intricacies of tax language. He was saying stuff and I wasn't understanding any of it. It was like watching my dad help me with my homework, only to let him figure out all the formulas for me. He'd say something and I'd just nod, "Sure, whatever you say must be the best way to do it. x + y - z = 5 ? I guess, why not? Let's go with that." 

But I'm getting some money back, from that sweet assed stimulus packet. Yeah, I think it's a dumb plan, but I also need a sweet assed computer. And the rebate I'm getting back is going to cancel out what I'd owe, so I owe nothing! 

So, why the discussion of taxes? I mean other than the fact that it's in the description of my blog? Is there any other reason I need to mention taxes? Because I'm a grown up. That's what it means. I don't know what it's actually like to be an adult so I judge it based on obvious and stereotypical cues that I think prove I'm an adult. How's it working? Am I getting more boring and deadened as this blog goes on?  

April Is The Cruelest Month

I know T.S. Eliot meant by that quote that I have co-opted as a title that April teases you, going back and forth with the weather, making it chilly one day and beautiful another, never letting you get your bearings or let your gaurd down. Maybe that's why it's been a particularly difficult week. Or maybe it would be a bad week even if it weren't April.

It's going to be a painful week. It has been already. I've not gotten enough sleep, forgotten my wallet, sat in traffic (more miserable than listening to Bush speak), been more broke than I care to think about and scheduled 2 doctor's appointments for the week, on top of all the rest.

I had a dentist's appointment on Monday, and I have a laaaaady doctor's appointment on Friday. What a good way to start and end a week (And is it just me, or did you totally do the Little Britain 'ladies' voice in your head right then?). Someone told me I should do a pro & con list to decide which one is worse. But I don't think I can. They're both pretty awful. But for very different reasons.

I hadn't been to the dentist for awhile, thanks to my dad's tangled mess of an insurance problem, and I think the dentist decided to take it out on me because I told her I have good teeth so I didn't really worry about missing the dentist. My teeth were hurting for the rest of the day. Not just twinging, like they usually do, but hurting so that I was afraid to eat solid foods, hurting so much I thought one of them might be a little loose. Then of course, there's the pleasant polishing of the teeth, and the rinse and spit flouride treatment that keeps you from eating for half the day. And the lady doctor, who will make me feel uncomfortable and ask all sorts of questions so that I will not only feel physically uncomfortable, but mentally too. Maybe I should take the rest of the day off.

Last night I went to a comedy club open mic night in a Best Western. I probably don't have to set the stage for you any more than that. You can probably picture exactly what this club was like, and you're probably thinking 'Don't do it! You're going to regret it! Why would you put yourself through that? You, a person who has never seen Meet the Parents all the way through because it's too painfully embarassing!' It's true. I haven't ever seen it all the way through, because I feel so bad for Ben Stiller's character, when all he wants to do is impress the parents and marry the girl. If I can't watch a scripted, pre-recorded movie full of embarassment, where the actors signed up for the task, how could I go to a live open mic night comedy club where people embarass themselves without meaning to?

When comedians don't have anything actually funny to say but have to think of something they usually resort to sex jokes. I quickly learned that there is a limit to how many jokes about sex I care to hear. It is a very low limit. After that night I pretty much don't care to ever hear about sex again. Or ever hear a security gaurd in his late 50s talk about how good sex with a parapalegic can be. I don't need to know. I need a shower, is what I need. And I don't want to know about a skater kid's money making schemes using the one thing he's got going for himself-- endless amounts of time and lotion. I went to the bathroom twice to give my ears a break.
The MC, a very funny man, who happens to be dating the friend that convinced me to go, came over and said, 'Please come back, don't let the awfulness of tonight frighten you away, it's usually better than this. And it is FREE. REMEMBER THAT.' I guess I can't complain. Or ask for my money back. Stabbing myself might have been more enjoyable than the comedy last night. But, because this week hasn't been painful enough, and I feel like dragging it out, I'll probably be back next week for more.

There once was a lion who caught a mouse between his paws, and toying with the mouse before he ate it he said, "You are weak, pathetic, ridiculous and helpless." The mouse, tired and lost, says "I've been sick."

This is an anecdote from one of my favorite authors, talking about life, and how we never see ourselves as the weak, pathetic things we can sometimes be. And when we are faced with those relizations we make excuses. It's one of those anecdotes that make me sort of want to cry and laugh through my snotty tears at the same time, remembering how ridiculous life is, even when it's beautiful.

It's All About the Details

Ahhhhahahah! That is the sound of me gleefully free from the mindless repetition of cutting 1,500 brochures with my exact-o knife. Don't even ask why we had to do that. My company is a lot like me--we'll gladly do things the hard way to acheive perfection. Nevermind the short cuts, we like exact-o knifes! Anyway, we finished yesterday and can I tell you, I literally sang Zippity do-dah on my walk to the metro. Honest. It was so beautiful outside and I was freed from work and had been watching a musical online that I remembered from childhood (we watched a lot of musicals as kids). Who sings musicals on their way home from work? This girl. I also know all the words to 'How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?' I sang that one too. You're probably wondering why you read this blog right now. I would be too.

Today I came into the office and my desk was cleared, I could sit and drink a cup of coffee and read the New York Times and I couldn't figure out why I felt so happy. Then I remembered, it was Thursday, I was done with that work and had time to relax a little. I had an amazing sandwich waiting for me in the fridge. When I made it last night (because I make my lunch the night before) I actually did a little dance at how good it looked, and how much I was going to enjoy it the next day. Again, you're wondering why you're reading this? I know, I know. But it's been a long week, and I'm tired. But I am relaxing, enjoying the freedom and the view in front of me. Why, I might even get some writing in. The possibilities are ENDLESS!!!!

The Ties That Bind And Gag.

Sometimes living at home can be fun. Free cable and internet. All you can eat tomato paste and 7 grain crackers. Piles and piles of useless furniture collecting dust and reminding you of your childhood.
Sometimes living at home is less than fun. Not being allowed to play Rock Band past 11 with your friends. Waiting until Perry leaves to throw parties, even the ones that do not include hookers, coke on the glass topped table and massive amounts of beer and big, hairy bikers. Having to restrain your make out sessions to cars (if you're lucky enough to have make out sessions, not being able to find boys that think living at home is less than lame).

And then, there's the family. Sometimes having them around to keep you entertained is special and fulfilling. Sometimes it's exhausting and loud, like when my mother and sister watch American Idol and compare their opinions with Simon's. Sometimes it's just confusing.

Take Saturday for example. We have a small couch in our kitchen, and a table with chairs all around it. The table is small but it does take up space in the middle of the kitchen. Nonetheless, it provides a place for me to prep food, and a place for us to gather around for a cup of tea with friends. More importantly it provides a place for us to rest our plates on when we want to eat. However, my mother decided that the couch could fulfill all these functions just as well as the table, and she moved the round table into the dining room to take its place next to the OTHER table that already sat in the the dining room. I must confess, I helped her move it. I naively thought it would be moved back, after she finished the mopping she was about to start. And then I left to go to Virginia Beach for the weekend, so the absence of the table in the kitchen hadn't struck me until Monday night, when I came home and mistakenly thought we were moving out sooner than expected. The kitchen sat, bare except for a flowered couch, with chairs left over from the table, crowded around it.
When we had spaghetti for dinner I asked aloud, where are we going to eat it? thinking that we were going to be like a real family, my mother, sister and I, sitting down together. Again, I was mistaken. My mother sat in front of the TV, my sister on a stool by the counter in the kitchen, and I sat at the computer desk, continuing the conversation I was having online.
"I think we should move the table back." I said. I was ignored.

In the morning it was no better. My sister sat at the counter in her bathrobe, eating a bowl of cereal. My mother leaned against the counter drinking coffee. I asked where I was supposed to eat my breakfast. My mother said, "I find that you can sit on the couch and put your plate on the chair in front of you and eat."
"You know what's easier than that?" I asked, before I had had my morning coffee, "A table."