Sitting here in a big, empty house, alone, I am trying to better myself. I am housesitting at my relatives' house, and while the setting is not the impetus to such improvement, it is a respite from the day-in-day-out monotony and time-flying atmosphere of my stifling home. Solitude is perhaps the Great Equalizer, which is to say that being alone is when you can truly begin to metamorphize. I don't need to be a different person, just a better one. I'm not a bad person, but I do have faults. I'm not a lonely person, but I crave experiences. I'm not a cheap person, but I lack much spontaneity.

Sitting here alone, on my mother's birthday, I am reminiscing about my twenty-two years. How fast they flew, how quickly they melted down! I am struck most by the over-encompassing feeling that has been with me since late May: I don't feel my age. I feel younger, which some may say is good, but which I say is naive. I don't feel younger like I have the energy of a teenager, though mostly I do, I feel younger in the sense like I haven't earned this age. I remember being young and seeing people my age and forming a mental image of what that age demands. I feel too short for 22, too round, too inexperienced, too imbecilic. I wonder if and when this will pass. I also wonder if my mother's lack of altering her perceptions of me as I age is a contributing factor. When I was away from home, at college, I felt free from that part of my life, but whenever I returned home, I was pushed back into my life from high school. There was a gross lack of freedom; my mother expected me to fall back into that mode as long as I was under her roof. My father, as always, was more respectful of me. My mother, who is very selfish and burdensome -- though can be very nice and fun and loving... it is her birthday today after all -- never let me fly the coop of her demands. As much as I tried -- and I tried all the time -- she manipulated me into cowtowing to her. I knew what was happening, but it was easier to put up a fight and then cave then for her to change. I got my point across, fleetingly, but at least I was active and heard. Anyway, I don't feel my age.

Sitting here, on the eve of my first real job, I wonder how much my life will change by its own design. Will I see my friends even less? Will I ever meet new and more people? What will I do with all my new money and responsibility? Will I ever get my mother off my back? I can't move out for awhile, which I am fine with so long as I can deal with her, but will I be unhappy or just feel complacent about the whole thing?

I don't honestly know why I am writing these thoughts here... I don't use this as a journal, I use this as a public blog. I know people will read it. I suppose it will take awhile for people to come across this since it has been three months since my last post and I'm sure people don't check here often. I am full of nonsensical spoutings, and thoughts. I wanted to put up a new post, but with this? Oh well.