Dorm v. Apartment

So today they called my roommate and offered her a dorm room. Last week they called me and offered me a dorm. My roommates father, a very pushy man, seems to think that he can get her and I a dorm room together. I can't decide, I am terrible at decisions. Which would I rather?? Shared showers and lots and lots of girls, or more space, less girls, and my own shower...

So, here we go again, nothing can ever just stay the same. Always decisions to be made. Yuck.

moving out, moving out.

I am moving out of my Nana's house this week in order to watch Aj and Cj while my mom is at work. I need to watch them because they refuse to spend the night at my Nana's. So, I've got to uproot myself so they can stay in their own beds. This is nice, really, really nice.

Decora

Decora is my Nana's cat. Nana named her Decora because she matches the decor of her house....yeah. What she lacks in personality she makes up for in fluffiness and softness. Tonight Decora is laying on my bed... sleeping... or lounging... or whatever it is cats do. I start to sing and she lets out this wretched meow. I stop, and her meow stops. I think I know where she stands on issues of my vocal talent.

Youtube.

I lurk youtube and watch all the people singing renditions of Broadway songs that are one million times better. Of course, I know this should inspire me to be better... make me work harder etc. But can I just say that right now in this moment it makes me want to rip my vocal chords out and never sing again. I'm allowed to feel that way right?

Realizing it's no longer all about me.

I'm moving out in fourteen days. Moving into my own apartment with a girl I've only met once. I'm excited. I'm very excited. I thought that at this point in my life my mom and several other family members would be up in arms about me moving out, sharing my nerves and excitement. This is not so, or not so the way I imagined. They're letting me go. I am being let go. The extreme attention I have required throughout my youth is also going away. I will be in my own apartment, paying attention to my own self, and just like every other grown up in the world, I will see my family once or twice a week (maybe more at first). Scary. Scary may not be the right word. Daunting. Daunting is the word I'm searching for. Let me give you an example:

Finding Nemo. Nemo is flushed down the toilet at one point in the movie (sorry for those of you who haven't seen it... but jeez.. if you really haven't seen it... I suggest you get with the times) Nemo slips and slides down the sewer and lands in a part of the ocean that has never been explored by him. This is how I feel. Don't over analyze it or it could become a very disgusting analogy. All I'm saying is, it's no longer all about me... I am being let out of the nest to fend for myself... and this is what I wanted.


Right?

Testing the waters

Dad says that we don't spend enough time together, he says he feels as though we aren't close enough to fight. Tonight he asked me if the communication was more authentic in person, I answered 'yes". However, I think the communication through blogs is more honest. I suppose you could say that this is a daughter testing the waters. I tell my mom everything... or I have told her almost everything. More so now that I'm inching closer and closer to my eighteenth birthday. Dad is a different story. Dad and Mom have had different sets of beliefs for as long as I can remember. Beliefs as well as theories on the best ways to raise their daughter. They've each treated me differently, and in response I did the same to them. Neither was better, neither was bad, they were just, very simply, different. In a way, as I get older, I am learning to appreciate the behaviors and lessons I was exposed to from each of them individually. From them, I have learned a lot about what I want to be, and what I don't want to be. My mom has always been more of a friend than a parent, and I have treated her so. I tell my mom virtually everything knowing there won't often be repercussions, nor disappointment on her behalf, because she's always been more lax than most parents. This is not to say she didn't watch me very carefully, and encourage me to do the right things, she was just always apt to treat me as an adult, probably at times when I shouldn't have been....but ehh... anyway...

Blogging allows me to test my waters with my dad. I feel more comfortable slowly easing him into my reality over internet space than walking up to him and blabbering away. Mind you, it's not that I have been bad. Not that I have done anything I wouldn't post on this blog, it's that my dad has always treated me as his daughter, as his little girl, unlike my mother who treated me as a friend, and for a little while now I have played the part of an older daughter, not so little anymore-- or trying not to be. It's just different, and before I confuse you, dear reader, or myself anymore on the matter, I am going to end this blog!

Tick tock goes the clock... but what is it really saying?

A girl on facebook writes in her status, " the monosyllable of the clock is Loss, Loss, Loss." I beg to differ. I feel as though the monosyllable of the clock is gain, gain, gain. Each second past is a second gained in your life. A second full of life. The seconds that add up to your long 80, 90 hopefully 120 years. I thought about this on the way home from Dad's tonight. Talk about the glass half full....
Since when did I adopt the practice of positive thinking?