everyone in hollywood is rebooting everything they can now days.
everything is being refreshed, reworked. newer script, better production, bigger budgets.
the stories you love, ENHANCED!
so. basically. i'm super trendy.
reboot: she was a single mom, struggling to get by, stressed out raising teenagers in an ever changing world. she was doing all the things she was "supposed" to do, NOW she's doing the things she WANTS to do.
chaos! drama! tears! painfully deep insights you wish you could pretend you didn't notice! emotional eating to the max! teenage eye rolling SO EXTREME you'll swear his eyes will get stuck in his head!
rated R for language.
well, it's all done. the house has sold, passed inspection, met appraisal value, and it's all over but the signing.
the apartment is secured, deposit paid, rental insurance acquired.
boxes are packed, furniture sold/given away, rental truck reserved.
HERE WE GO: REBOOT TIME.
the teenager said about six times last night "I can't wait to see the new apartment!"
he's excited. i'm nervous. and sad. and...relieved?
is that the right word?
it's a strange moment for me. moving is nothing new. i've moved 14 times since being out on my own. but this is the longest we've ever stayed anywhere- 6 years. and we *thought* we'd be there forever. our house. OURS. owned outright.
but it just isn't us.
the teenager surprised me the other night- "i'd move all the time if we could."
gypsy blood runs deep.
trust kid- if moving wasn't such a pain in the ass, if jobs weren't required for living, if i could get over my emotional attachment to ridiculously large furniture, i'd move all the time.
living in an airstream and just...going...sounds AMAZING. just GO. throw a dart at a map. it hold a certain appeal for sure.
i'm trying to take the time in all the chaos to appreciate the house for what it's been. i did a final firepit in the back yard this weekend with friends and after everyone left, i took a moment to sit on the back deck and just...look. look at what i'd created, remember the last summer of book club, bbq's, conversations, dinners alfresco with the kiddo. i took the time to appreciate the work that got it to the point of being a place i enjoyed. the twinkle lights, the fire pit area, the calm feeling sitting out there provided. and i KNOW, i know that's not gone forever. i can recreate that wherever i go. yes, it will be smaller, but i can still create a space that has the same feeling, the lights, the calm. it won't be the EXACT SAME, but that's ok.
i took time last night to really appreciate- it's been a good house, despite all the stress and heartache. all the projects that went sideways, all the small things that have been a thorn in my side, all the project that never got started...it was still a damn good house. it was everything i could have ever picked. covered front porch, big back deck, fenced yards, old school architecture, the turret. it is everything. EVERYTHING i could have picked for a house. and it was mine. i got a chance to try it.
remember the honda element? same thing. the car i wanted. i did my research, i picked it out. it was mine. i got a chance to try it.
in the end, neither worked for me, and that's ok. they served their purpose. my dad provided me a chance to TRY. how many people can say that?
i've been through...well...a few emotions. this is the house my dad gave me. this is what i was "supposed" to do. this was the "correct" step. the "adult" decision.
i've battled letting that go. i've battled the guilt and the feelings of failure.
IT'S OK. i didn't fail. i tried. it didn't work for me. that's not a failure. that's learning. that's growing. that's experience. none of that is failure. my dad wouldn't be ashamed or mad. he knew i was a quirky duck. he knew i didn't fit the "supposed to" mold. that's why my brother exists. he's the round peg in the round hole. he knew what career he wanted when he was a kid. he's had his future planned since...forever. he's happy and content in a planned, routine life, structured.
i never fit that. dad wanted me to be a nurse. i can't handle blood. injuries gross me out. do. not. talk to me about surgery unless you want to see what i had for breakfast.
dad wanted me to settle down and have a good corporate career. i don't do well as a cog in a machine. i like a job where i make a difference.
dad was annoyed by tattoos and colored hair.
but, at the end of all of it, he loved me, he respected me decisions, he learned to trust my abilities. he was always nervous seeing what new apartment i had rented, but always came back a few weeks later proud and impressed by how i could make any place home. i scared him, but i think it was more as a parent not wanting harm for his daughter than actual fear of what would happen.
i know right now he'd be shaking his head and asking WHY???? and ARE YOU SURE?? a hundred times, but he'd also be there to help pack the truck and cursing a blue streak helping me assemble new furniture.
*side note* hey dad, i can afford to buy REAL furniture that doesn't need assembled now. no more impossible instruction books and alan wrenches and scraped knuckles.
well...mostly...there may be a few things still in my future...i'll keep my collection of alan wrenches just in case.
SO. here we go. the truck comes tomorrow. well, i go pick up the truck tomorrow.
everything is pared down, packed, ready to go.
here's to the next chapeter.
where did alice go when she left wonderland?
wherever. the. fuck. she. wanted.