Guess who’s allowed behind the wheel now??

yeah lol that’s right. 

No but seriously, I took the LSAT two times and I think I was still more nervous for my driver’s test. Okay, yes, that’s kinda sad but still - books, I can do. Essays, I can write the shit out of. 

But figuring out what to do when someone cuts you off when you’re turning? Those are some crazy ninja-fast agile reflexes required.

FINGERS CROSSED, YOU GUYS. AN APARTMENT MAY HAVE BEEN LOCATED.

IT HAS HARDWOOD FLOORS (IN THE COMMON AREAS), AND IT WILL BE MOSTLY FURNISHED (WITH ALMOST-BRAND-NEW FURNITURE), AND IT IS QUOTE PRETTY MUCH THE FRONTIER OF THE SAFE AREAS UNQUOTE SO I WILL BE SOMETHING OF A PIONEER WOMAN. 

MOST IMPORTANTLY, I WON’T HAVE TO HARVEST MY OWN EGGS IN ORDER TO MAKE RENT.

AM IN THE PROCESS OF APPLYING.

IF ANYONE SNATCHES IT UP FROM UNDER US, I WILL HULK OUT BECAUSE LOOKING FOR HOUSING IS SERIOUSLY THE WORST. BRUCE BANNER, I FEEL U.

i don’t say this as often as i should…

…but I’m blessed. Not only with the most functional, loving family I know, but with wonderful friends. There are two in particular who, upon hearing about my potential future plans, haven’t hesitated in supporting me whole-heartedly. I only belatedly realized how conflicted they must have been when they heard the good news, and how much they’ve worked to bury that conflict so I wouldn’t have to see it.

Their selflessness is inspiring. I won’t meet very many people like that, wherever I go. 

growing up

I have been steadfastly ignoring the new year because - let’s be honest - January 1st is a completely arbitrary date, but I can’t ignore the birthday I have looming up ahead of me. I’ll be turning 22 in a day or so an hour, and that’s that - I won’t officially be considered all that young anymore. In fact, some might even say that I’m an “adult.”  

I’ve recently begun fearing 22 with an almost religious fervor. Being 21 means you’re young, and you can do things like lose your cell phone while out all night partying, or not have any idea what a checkbook is, much less how to balance one and somehow, it’s charming. It’s funny how 21 means the beginning of your autonomy, but barely a year later, 22 marks the slow descent into growing up and being pressed down by the weight of all the responsibilities you didn’t even know you had. 

As someone who has only marginally crossed the fence into adulthood, I don’t imagine that I have many insights into the whole mystery of “being an adult” - but I do know one big thing that I never quite realized as a kid, and that’s this:

Adults don’t know any more than children do. Adults, like children, don’t have a fucking clue what is going on. 

They’ve just had more time to figure out how to fake their competence. In my year at home, I’ve seen my own parents drop this pretense in front of me more and more. My mom looks at me blankly when I explain all the forms she has to fill out for her brother’s immigration, or how to not-procrastinate on renewing our cell phone contract. She admits to hating housework with a passion (truly, I am her daughter). 

This anagnorisis is, of course, nothing new. People discover and re-discover this all the time. It is an age-old realization. 

But something I think people of my generation (which I cannot pretend to speak for, but will do so anyway) are incredibly guilty of doing is using this recognition in order to excuse their own inability to grow up. We see more and more movies and instances of pop culture celebrating the child-like adult: Bridesmaids, Young Adult, The Hangover, every Judd Apatow movie ever made, and so on. Reviving childhood icons like Pokemon, or Power Rangers, or the Rugrats, is cool. (I am beyond guilty of this. See: the Disneyland annual pass in my pocket.) I think the problem occurs when we become unable to move past this glorification of our own past. 

Growing up is incredibly hard to do. It involves realizing that no one really has a clue what is going on, but somehow going on anyway. It involves putting one foot in front of the other with no guarantees that you’re stepping on solid ground. It involves pretending to have it all together, even though you don’t, and - this is important - being a little more forgiving when you realize other people don’t as well. 

Realize that you might not ever figure out what it is you want to do with your life. Realize that your life’s calling might not ever come to you. That doesn’t mean that you put your whole life on pause trying to figure it out. Keep moving forward. Life will happen, whether you decide to participate in it or not. As for me, I’d rather be there for it. 

Application stress.

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Accidentally moved my taskbar from the bottom of the screen to the side. It was VERTICAL.

Had a terrifying, disorienting five minutes as I tried to move it back before I realized I was right-clicking when I should’ve been left-clicking. 

This whole episode has brought about the conclusion that maybe I shouldn’t laugh the next time my mom asks me for Facebook help. 

maybe i lack a certain maternal instinct, but…

Seeing all these people I knew from high school popping babies out, left right center, inspires anything but warm and fuzzy feelings. Instead, whenever I come across another pregnancy announcement or swollen belly, my insides seem to shrivel up with fear. (As an aside, I kinda hope they do shrivel up with fear. For a few good years, anyway.) There is so much I want to do before I even begin to think about starting a family. 

Anyway, someone smack some sense into me. I should be happy for people who have chosen to have families, and who are happy enough with their lives to bring another being into it. Just because I’m so maladjusted that the thought of having a cooing, giggling baby paralyzes me with terror doesn’t mean everyone else feels that way. 

Babies aren’t contagious… right?

These days, it’s been hard to tell that anything at all has changed. I wake up, study, watch some TV, and try not to think about how fast the days are going by. Instead, I think about logical reasoning, and how the problems on the page have a right answer, always. 

At night, it’s hard to sleep, so I read in bed until my eyes blur and the sky begins to lighten between the blinds. Mostly, I read nonfiction. It’s hard to find fault with facts. 

It’d be lying to say that I don’t miss my best friend. Actually, there’s more than one person I miss, but it’s difficult to get that across when the other person isn’t picking up. Anyway, things are different now. What I miss is a memory. 

But you can’t go back. If there’s anything I’ve learned these few weeks, it’s that time marches relentlessly forward. And you can either keep looking back and wondering, or you can walk forward and face whatever it is to come, knowing that you’ll be alone, but that it’ll be okay. That it’s okay to be alone - to be on your own.

Quite a few people have commented to me about how “brave” or “strong” I am. But it isn’t true. At least, not that I know of. The same fears haunt me when it gets too quiet. Sometimes, I think I’m blessed not with courage, but with the amazing ability to compartmentalize, to bury my feelings deep down again whenever they try to resurface.

Sometimes the fear is overwhelming. The fear that I did the wrong thing, said the wrong words. There isn’t a right or wrong answer here; there’s only us, and how much we don’t know.

I keep coming back to this line:

愛不是點頭就能挽回

Maybe it sounds so good to me because it’s in a different language, and things always sound better when you don’t fully understand them, when you have to fill in the gaps between the words. I don’t know. 

The sun will be coming up soon. I should stop thinking and try to sleep.