What's my age again?

It's been an interesting day.  It started by being awakened by a phone call from my dad to accuse me - jokingly - of withholding information.  Then I got to deal with water dripping in the walls.  Not my fault, but I still had to deal with it and clean up the mess.  Then there was Ice Age, which was not a cinematic marvel but was entertaining enough.  Then home, where I checked my mail and found that I had received a massive box.  Except I spent the next 2 hours fielding phone calls from my entire family - most of them more than once - so I couldn't open it right away, as much as I wanted to.  I knew exactly what it was.  Finally, I got it unboxed and unwrapped.  It was an absolutely beautiful new guitar.  It's possibly one of the nicest things someone has bought for me.  I'm not sure I deserve it, or that I was worth the money, but it means a hell of a lot to me.  So I taught myself 9 chords, fiddled with a few songs, and stopped when my fingers felt swollen...stupid calluses being gone due to my crazy couple of months.  Then I watched TV, ate dinner, and relaxed.  It was a good day.

Finally back home, after a week of being away.  I am so tired of traveling, of being away from my bed and not having my own space.  And I'm back in my tiny apartment where 90% of my stuff is packed in boxes, but it still feels more comfortable than anywhere I've been in quite a while.  So it's 4:30pm and I'm in my pajamas, sitting in bed, content.

It's been a long week and a half.  A lot has changed, in some ways, but in other ways it feels like I'm completely stuck.  I don't  have a way to easily explain it.

I have a place to live.  After two trips to Milwaukee - both planned last minute and ultimately with money I didn't have to blow - easily a hundred phone calls, and way too much stress, I have a place.  And I  move in on July 27th.  3 weeks.  Eek.

I can't deal with any of this shit anymore.

I can't deal with the fact that I had a place to live for next year that was unceremoniously taken away because the landlord's mother wanted to lease it to her friend.

I can't deal with the fact that the landlord waited 2 weeks to tell me this.

I can't deal with the fact that I don't think I am going to be able to go visit again to find a place to live, and have to trust that wherever I can find online will be A) acceptable, and B) safe.

I can't deal with the fact that I called my mother because I needed someone to listen while I freaked out, someone to calm me down, because the people I normally go to for such things aren't available, and she just went off on me.

I can't deal with my mother telling me that this is entirely my fault because I go about everything I do wrong and don't know how to make decisions.

I can't deal with being lectured about 'spending my graduation gift this year' on frivolous things, especially considering I didn't GET a graduation gift.

I can't deal with the fact that I'm supposed to be moving in a week, have no place to live, absolutely no one to vent about this to, and feel tiny and utterly alone.

I just can't.

Necessities

You know that feeling when you temporarily lose contact with someone you are used to talking to every day?  No?  Let me try to explain.

It’s not constant.  It’s not nagging or painful or distracting.  It doesn’t become a permanent disruption in your life.  It doesn’t wear you down or stress you out or remain in the front of your mind.

Coming

She knew it was coming.  They had talked about it enough - in vague conversations at first, where she had gathered a handful of likes and dislikes and devised a few ideas.  The more they talked about it, the more the entire thing felt inevitable.  So as the talk lost the vague and became more concrete, conversations became propositions.  She had said no when she had thought yes.  But the time for that was over.  So lying there on his bed, his parents asleep on the floor below, she knew it was coming.