Saturday, August 6, 2011

Operation: GTFO and Operation: GROS

I have now entered a phase I can only refer to as Operation: GTFO. Eight months ago I quite abruptly found myself having to move back in with my mother. After being out on my own for a few years and feeling very comfortable in the "real world," returning to my little room littered with Hello Kitty relics and high school mementos was the absolute last thing I wanted. If you add the fact that my mom seems to think I leveled out at thirteen years old and haven't aged since, it's pretty clear that I'm not thrilled with my living arrangements.

I'm turning 24 in a month, entering that range of 24-26 that I would define as "mid-twenties," and I find myself blissfully single and ready to GTFO, if you will. For years I've dreamed of my own place. I learned my lesson early on that I will never live with another girl again. It's either me and my cat, or some unreliable and potentially failure-ridden marriage situation, the latter of which I am in no danger of wanting anytime soon. I just want to, for lack of a better phrase, "do my thing." And basically just be alone for awhile. Maybe shut my blinds and not leave my room for days while I crank out my first masterpiece of writing. And if that's what I need to do to get it done, then that's what I'll do. Because for too long I've been distracted with this drama or that drama, or having to please someone else and worry about them more than myself. I've always prided myself in my ability to care for others, but now, for perhaps the first time, I'm actually going to care about myself. So, yadda yadda, girl power and Independent Women and Me, Myself, and I and such.

Related to Operation: GTFO is Operation: GROS, or Get Rid of Shit. Mainly shit that boys/their families have given me. I have no need of them. I don't gaze at these things longingly, or dream of ripping open that stuffed animal's guts in a vengeful rage, but I really just don't need them. I use that blanket sometimes, and never does it remind me of who gave it to me, but someone else needs that blanket way more than I do. I have too much stuff because I'm sentimental about things and, frankly, incredibly lazy about getting rid of things I just don't need anymore. And what better place to start? No better place at all.

Well I intended to do a Caturday today, but since I went on an unintentional personal rant, I'll delay it for tomorrow instead. I really try not to get into my personal life on here, but this just kind of came out, and I think I'll leave it be this time. So here's a short glimpse at my vulnerable side. Now you see it, now you don't.


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