Young lady.

Well, it's that time again: Time for me to survey the room and realize that nothing is mine... REALLY mine. That's because I'm still dependent. People gave me things when I moved here--nice things, used things, things I didn't get to choose, things I accepted either out of actual need or out of politeness--none of them mine.

I bought my own mp3 player. That's mine. I bought the bottle of Strawberry Melon Fuze with job money. The empty CC's coffee house cup still in my car once held a latte that was bought with the same money. Little things here and there are mine, and they're mostly entertainment. I own books, comic books, DVDs, and an instrument. Everything else is given (mine, but in a different way) or borrowed.

It must sound like I believe that you are what you own. That's really not the case. I don't want an elaborate life with lots of nice things. I just want to be able to stand in the middle of my living room and think "I earned this..." and not by being a good, hard-working daughter whose parents saw fit to give her a break while she earned her degree. I don't want to depend on someone financially anymore. As terrible as it feels to say, I want to have different primary reasons for helping my folks with chores when I visit. Of course I love them and they deserve a little help. But my first thought it always still "they pay my bills, I can't say no." When I'm free, I'll still want to be the good helpful daughter... even moreso. Because I'll be free because of them.

That said, I know I'm never going to be an island, as much as I pretend to be sometimes. Success is almost never gained alone. If I ever have an ego big enough to think the victory of graduation is only mine, I hope that Australian guy from Jurassic Park puts me out of my misery while murmuring,"clever girl."

I still call people older than me "the adults" as opposed to me... a kid, I guess. People in the UK insisted I stop using "Mr." or "Ms." I was old enough to call anyone by their first name. I'd earned it as an adult. Man, that felt good. And coming home, it was a hard habit to break. I started thinking of myself as a young woman instead of "young lady!" I guess that's a start.