a little older

So today I went in the morning to put some of my stuff in my apartment. And it looks really nice. It's good to have an aunt who works in the apartment industry, cuz she was able to notice evry little detail so I wouldn't be charged for extra services after leaving (She even noticed these marks on the fridge that I just figured were shadows, but lo and behold it was something leaky from a long time ago.) It's kinda funny to make moving in a family affair. Even my nana went to make sure that it had enough holy water strewn about for protection. But I guess that's one of the things of coming from a Hispanic family, cuz everybody is involved in everything everyone else does. We know with great detail my cousin's roommate troubles and that my aun't boss is having an affair with supposedly one fo the maintanance workers at her apartment complex. Every freakin' little detail. But here I go leavin' and it makes the family closer together.

The thing is I therefore have no real sense of the word privacy. Maybe that will make sharing an abode with three relatively complete strangers a little easier, I'm not sure. The half of me that wanted to go to Rice and MIT so bad is ready to just cut all communication ties from my folks so I can live my own life and make my own mistakes and learn from them as much as possible, and the other half of me (although these 'halves' may not be equal in size) is just a scared little Mexican kid leaving home and comfort and security. That Lazlow guy comes to mind. He was the one with the hierarchy of needs, right? Anyway I'm not even sure where my main source of food is gonna come from. Though I know there's gonna be a steady supply waiting for me (literally) at home, part of me just wants to prove that I could make it on my own. I could find a job with enough money to pay for food and expenses. I could manage my schoolwork and social life properly. I could keep my grades high to maintain my scholarships. But for me the fact that there is a net to fall back on is actually destructive rather than productive. I do better knowing there's no second chance, so the first one has to count. I know that if I don't have to dive in (or drive or work or hook up with people) then I won't.

In other news, Mom's got her second surgery scheduled for the 29th of this month. If she goes in at sunrise, she can be out by noon, which is when my first class starts on Mondays. And this time there will be 2 doctors at her side, which increases the chance of success by some amount I'm sure.

But I'm sure these feelings of antsyness or anxiety are normal. I just don't like them.