Free Your Mind and the Rest Will Follow...

I'm checking the time, and no one with any sense should be up this early on a Saturday. Well, I clearly lack sense on a daily basis, so why shouldn't I start not making any sense at the ass-crack of dawn? Am I making any sense? No? Good.

I have long-since toiled with the thought of being confined to certain expectations. I clearly have not been very attentive. The fact is, I live with my parents. There should be no shame in this. However, when this issue is brought to light in conversation, there is nothing but grief for me. "Oh, well at least you're saving money." or "I wish I had done that." To that particular comment, my eyes light up like a child at Christmas and I try to stoke the waning fire of freedom. "Really? You wish you would have stayed with your parents?"

To this query, the respondee looks taken aback, clearly frightened by the crazed look in my eyes. "Um, well no." They answer, "I couldn't take it."

And so with this blog, I want to hitch up my shorts Barney Fife style and make a few things perfectly clear. First of all, I want everyone to know that in a perfect world, I would not live with my parents. In a perfect world, I would live in a hobbit-hole in Hobbiton and knock back a few pints with Frodo. Alas, life is not perfect, and modern society does not allow for my dream.

In a fair world, my pay check would allow me to actually pay rent. Wouldn't that be fabulous? But, technically, I am still a beginner hairstylist trying to get my name out in the world without the fleeting statement, "God, that girl fucked up my hair."

Do not feel sorry for me. You may be out on your own, but I'm being fiscally responsible. Or at least that's what I tell myself when I cry myself to sleep. I will move out of my parent's house, not someday, but very soon. And I will not be in debt, so suck on that. Living with the parents adds a bit of stress not seen by the naked eye. Yes, I do not have have to pay for food or lodging but I do pay an emotional toll. Aye, there lies the rub.

I'm an adult in an adolescent living situation. It clearly sucks. I always have to let my parents know where I'm going to be, even though sometimes I cannot answer that question myself. I'm kinda a go with the flow type of gal, unless it deals with scary movies and control of the telelvision volume. However, I digress. This is not because they care about me, which they do but that is besides the point. It's because they do not want to awake in the middle of the night with my face smashed up against the window screen begging for the door to be unlocked. My father is a very routine-oriented man and this has been an issue in the past.

I cannot leave my shit around the house. In my own house, there's going to shit everywhere. Deal with it. My friends find this fact particularly humorous after they tried to taunt me with threats to get my shit off the stairs. This is a continuing running joke amongst a small group of them. I'm not a particularly dirty person. My messes are organized chaos. But they are organized dammit, and I like it that way. My mother does not agree with my organized chaos theory, apparently, and there have been some emotional and physical bruising caused by this difference in opinion.

Thank God I'm employed. I take refuge in my job. I'm not just a lazy shit who yells at my mom for more meatloaf. I actually have friends who are entertained by my wit, therefore I'm a joy to be around. I'm a hoot. I can't help it. These facts alone keep me going. I know, I sacrifice so much. In years to come I will probably look back at this time in my life with altered nostalgia. But for right now, I take full advantage of bitching and until I sign a lease, I will continue in my solitary pity-party.