Last Night At Home

This is a strange feeling. Tomorrow night I'll be in my new apartment/house in Philadelphia (or maybe at Julie's place, since she has air conditioning). My stuff is pretty much all packed, despite the last-minute change of plans (long story short, U-Haul knows how to take the reservation, but they don't know how to hold the reservation). Thankfully, my aunt and uncle let us borrow their pickup truck, and between that and the minivan, we were able to pack almost everything.

Opening the trunks will be interesting tomorrow. When we open the back hatch of the truck, shoes will probably rain down on us!

It's a good thing my dad is so good at packing. Those vehicles could not possibly be any fuller. We shoved things until they fit, and there are barely millimeters to spare - and I'm not even exaggerating! So even though I'm leaving behind a chair, a TV stand, a few crates, and even (sniff!) some books, I'm still really happy. (I've also realized, for about the 748th time this month, that I have way too many possessions.)

So after hours of packing, including quite a long time crammed between two dressers, bent over to fit in the capped back of the truck, trying to cover mirrors while using a broom handle as an arm extender (it's a really good thing I'm not claustrophobic, and that I'm relatively skinny! I could have used smaller boobs and longer arms, but hey, nobody's perfect), I went shopping with Allison to avoid sitting at home alone on my last night in Rochester.

No, the irony of already having too much stuff and then going shopping is not lost on me. However, the mall excursion was totally justified - I had to use my Old Navy Groupon before it expires in a couple days! (Mission accomplished, by the way.) We also had Abbott's frozen custard, a Rochester tradition that seemed fitting (and delicious) on my last night in town, and then when it started pouring we danced in the rain like crazy people on the strange college green area in the middle of the shopping plaza.

And then I stepped in goose poo.

Still, it was a lot of fun! And I haven't cried yet, just felt really weird all day. Moving away from home after college, when you actually empty your bedroom, is much more final-feeling than going to college for the semester, when you leave most of your belongings behind. And the fact that I'm probably not coming home until Thanksgiving (or maybe late October for a wedding) is a strange thought, as is the very real possibility that my room will have transformed into the guest room when I return (complete with Mom and Dad's double bed).

Next time I blog, I'll be in Philadelphia!

Appreciate the Elders

Today I got to have lunch with my grandparents and my great-aunt (and my mom, but she's not really an elder - you're welcome, Mom). It was fantastic! For one thing, they're all really great people. Maybe it's the history major in me, but I really enjoy talking to older people. They have such a great view of the world. I guess that after you've lived eighty years, you really know not to sweat the small stuff, and you've learned that everything always works out for the better.

So even though they sometimes seem a bit racist or homophobic (today I accidentally brought up gay marriage - oops!), I know they mean well, and that some of their views are only that way because they've seen so many changes in their lifetimes; maybe they just want everything to slow down a bit. Plus there's the occasional nice surprise, like this gem from ninety-year-old Aunt Kate: "Why shouldn't they get married? They've been living together all these years; what's the difference?" I know all of them will support me no matter what, even if Grandpa worries that the big bad city will get me. I know they always like to hear from me.

I know I love asking them what life was like when they were my age. (Yeah, that's probably the geeky history buff talking.)

Plus I learned today that Grandpa S. met Jay Leno in California about twenty years ago. Apparently Grandpa was visiting his elementary school friend, who owned a high-end newsstand of some sort. Jay Leno walked in, and Grandpa recognized him. Mind you, Jay Leno wasn't quite as famous as he is now; back then he only subbed for Johnny Carson occasionally and didn't have his own show. Grandpa talked to Jay Leno, telling him that he and his late wife had been huge fans of his. Jay Leno listened sympathetically, and then gave Grandpa the number to call to get tickets to see the show later that week that Jay Leno was hosting. And that's how Grandpa met Jay Leno and got to see a taping of The Tonight Show. Why I never heard this story before today is beyond me.

I also got to hear how Grandpa S. and Grandma Grace met. The newsstand friend (his name was Joe Something) told Grandpa he should give Grace a call, because her husband had died a few years ago, and the two widow(er)s should get to know each other. Grandpa and Grace talked on the phone a little while he was in California. Then, six months later, Joe Something came to visit his old friends in Buffalo, inviting Grandpa to come to dinner with him, his wife, and another couple. Sick of being the awkward fifth wheel, Grandpa remembered that Grace also knew Joe Something, so he called her and asked her to go to dinner with them.

A few years later they got married. Joe Something was the best man.

Lesson of the Day: You never know where life will take you. Stay open-minded, go with the flow, and talk to the famous person you recognize in a newsstand. Oh, and if your significant other dies, life's not over - you might meet the second love of your live and live happily ever after again.

Oops

So much for keeping up with blogging...

So, to catch up with the last few months: I was accepted into City Year, I finished the mules thesis (for now), I graduated with a rainbow of honors cords around my neck, I moved back home to work at the convenience store for the fifth summer in a row, and I started the apparently endless search for roommates and an apartment.

But I think that's almost over. At least, it better be almost over, since I start City Year in less than a month, and Julie said she's really rather I didn't live on her couch for a month. The good news is that the stipend apparently went up a bit, so I'll be slightly less poor next year! Still frighteningly close to qualifying for food stamps, but whatever. It'll hopefully be a really good chance to change lives and have a positive influence in the world, and that's the important thing.

So, yeah. Tell your representatives in Washington not to cut funding from Americorps, because they already have almost no money to give to their volunteers who are trying to make this country a better place. We'd like to be able to eat some food while saving America, thank you very much.

It's weird to think that I'll be moving in a few weeks, to a totally new city. And yeah, my sister lives there, so I won't be totally alone, but it's still a bit terrifying. After all, I don't want to rely on her too much. No one wants to be the annoying older sister who hangs out with her younger sister's friends because she doesn't have any friends of her own. And I've definitely lost enough friends over the years to doubt my friend-making abilities, so that's a bit unnerving, too.

I guess moving to a new place will be good for me. I'm pretty sure if I stayed here I'd spend even more time with my parents than I do now, and I"m already starting to miss people my own age. So yay! Fresh start!

And yet I can't stop comparing my move into the "real world" with my parents'. When they were my age, they were already married. Mom moved out of her parents' house after graduating from college a semester early and straight into Dad's apartment. Dad lived on his own for a few months, but Mom helped him pay for his (soon to be their) apartment - and he was getting paid a hell of a lot more than I am. They had each other, and while I know I have an amazing support system in my family, I still feel pretty lonely. Asking a fiance to help pay for an apartment is a lot different than asking your parents. And crying on your parents' shoulders when you're overwhelmed is comforting, but you feel like you're about five years old again, which just makes you feel worse. (This is all hypothetical, of course.) I know I'm a strong, independent woman, and that plenty of other twenty-somethings have also gone out on their own - some with far fewer resources than I have - but it's still tough.

Okay, enough moping. It feels so much better to get it out there, even if no one I know reads it. (Actually, on second thought, it's probably better if no one I know reads this.) I always forget how therapeutic blogging can be.