"so. how do you like living on your own?" my dad asked today.

"i don't know..." i said, wondering what kind of answer he was expecting to hear. "i like it."

what i was really thinking, however, was i love it. i absolutely adore living on my own. even if i'm in orange county every other weekend. even if i feel like i'm paying more in bills than i make. even if i get lonely because none of my friends live nearby. even if all that and more, i love it. and yes, cliché cliché cliché, i would not trade this for anything else in the world and there is no place i'd rather be. (and luckily, i'm on a one-year lease so there's no place i can be.)

it's a little scary, though. because i'm here and now what? i've always had short-term and long-term goals, a set destination, a plan or three (A, B & C, just in case). and now...well, now i don't. i'm not dying to get out of a crapass job or my parents' house. i'm not going to grad school next fall. i'm not moving to NYC any time soon. i'm not even desperate for a boy and some lovin', which is a major breakthrough for a sap like me.

my only aspirations, really, are to get my 1987 car back from the shop running like a 1999 vehicle for no more than $1,200; to finish my philippines scrapbook before it's been a year since the trip (we went last christmas; and to maybe write more and paint more, learn stylesheets and javascript, and be a better friend, sister and daughter.

oh yeah -- and to keep an open mind with whatever does happen with my job, or my living arrangement, or boys, or anything else that could turn my life inside out and upside down, because inevitably, something will come up, and everything will change, and there i'll be, at the crossroads, playing eenie-mienee-moe.

and, come to think of it, keeping an open mind, letting whatever happens happen, flying by the seat of my pants, that's a really massive undertaking, considering i'm one of the most overly organized, carefully planned, obsessively orderly girls i know.