I'M GOING TO FRANCE TOMORROW.
My clothes are here, with me, at my mother's house.
My passport, suitcase and toiletries are all at my apartment. In Bushwick.
I wasn't planning on staying here! At my mom's! It's just that the dryer here sucks, and I had to run around a lot, and I don't plan well and BLAH. Also did not have the money to spend doing laundry in my own neighborhood.
POOR PLANNING SKILLS. Shut it :(
Anywhooooo...THIS is where I will be as of Thursday Morning:
I only get to turn 25 once. And I've decided to do it in Yvoire. At my grandmother's house. Because I'm awesome.
I'm not sure if I should be as scared as I am or more scared about my impending birthday. Part of me feels like I should have accomplished more at this point. Like a degree, or the ability to host people in my house without them going, "really? This is a hovel." (My house isn't THAT bad, but it could be better. I has a lazy, and a cheap...)
In other parts of the country people my age are married and have children. It's not something I'd want for myself at this moment in my life, but it's something to think about. I guess I always worry about falling behind the times. I have a friend that we used to joke stopped growing up at age 11. Now I wonder if I stopped growing up somewhere around 20.
I've touched on it before. I'm scared of growing up. There's something frightening about responsibility and bills and living on your own. Even if I 've done it for ages. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has been in this boat. I can't be, can I?
While I ponder this, I'll head back to being a four year old for just a minute:
I'M GOING TO FRA-ANCE.
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7 years ago