fredericks (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fredericks) wrote2005-01-01 03:34 am
fredericks) wrote2005-01-01 03:34 am
What I was doing New Years.
New Year's Eve was spent in the company of family. We gathered by my aunt's house, the one who'd lost her husband earlier this year. It was the same old same old: the guys sat downstairs and watched television, the women sat upstairs. As usual, I stuck out like a thumb. Being the oldest offspring on my maternal side I'm too old to hang with the kids and too young to hang with the adults. So I spent the time playfully harassing the youngest of the lot (cute kids) and idling listening to the older people.
Where do I fit? I'm 24 years old, and I still carry on like a kid. I still *am* a kid, cosmically speaking, but...I'm 24 years old. I live at home and don't act my age. I should be, I don't know, partying and getting drunk and waking up in strangers' bedrooms at odd hours having no idea how I got there. Instead I play video games with my brothers and dutifully come to the call of my father so he can berate me like I'm half my age. My lack of friends my age plays a part in it, sure, but my home situation is, to me, the big deciding factor. There's no reason why I'm still here, and I'm going to continue to feel like a child while I live here. Particularly because of my father. So, that's my goal for this year. Not resolution, because those things are made to be broken. My goal. My goal is to get out from under my parents house. And there are lots of mini-milestones inherent in that goal. Getting into my nursing school. Finding a steady job. Making a cohesive five/ten/fifteen year plan. But all I want to be able to say when Dec 31st of 2005 rolls around is that I made it on my way (I can do without the drunken encounters though; there's a thin line between "being an adult" and "being stupid", and to me, those always seemed to cross it).
To those on my Friends List that manage and have managed to slog their way through my entries: I wish you all a blessed New Year. You have all blessed me with your support, kind words, and wise cracks over the last year. And it's very VERY much appreciated. I'll let Neil Gaiman's words wrap this entry up, because I tend not to be eloquent at 4 o'clock in the morning.
Where do I fit? I'm 24 years old, and I still carry on like a kid. I still *am* a kid, cosmically speaking, but...I'm 24 years old. I live at home and don't act my age. I should be, I don't know, partying and getting drunk and waking up in strangers' bedrooms at odd hours having no idea how I got there. Instead I play video games with my brothers and dutifully come to the call of my father so he can berate me like I'm half my age. My lack of friends my age plays a part in it, sure, but my home situation is, to me, the big deciding factor. There's no reason why I'm still here, and I'm going to continue to feel like a child while I live here. Particularly because of my father. So, that's my goal for this year. Not resolution, because those things are made to be broken. My goal. My goal is to get out from under my parents house. And there are lots of mini-milestones inherent in that goal. Getting into my nursing school. Finding a steady job. Making a cohesive five/ten/fifteen year plan. But all I want to be able to say when Dec 31st of 2005 rolls around is that I made it on my way (I can do without the drunken encounters though; there's a thin line between "being an adult" and "being stupid", and to me, those always seemed to cross it).
To those on my Friends List that manage and have managed to slog their way through my entries: I wish you all a blessed New Year. You have all blessed me with your support, kind words, and wise cracks over the last year. And it's very VERY much appreciated. I'll let Neil Gaiman's words wrap this entry up, because I tend not to be eloquent at 4 o'clock in the morning.
May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't to forget make some art -- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.