Moving Day

Driving up Tamiami sipping my caramel frappuccino with an extra shot of espresso (I haven't been sleeping well--no surprise), I leave Sarasota. I see all of the memories. There's the sprint store where I got my first cell phone, the bubble gum pink one that I regret choosing every day. There's the Tiajuana Flats, which is in itself a memory. Here's the turn where would always go to Opera, which I will never take again (at least not for the same reasons). There are the oleanders that I wanted to be buried under until I found out that they only grew in the south, which ruined my plans. Ah. The movie theatre. Home of many good times, and many annoying times, and many boring times. Bad movies, good movies, stupid people, my best friends. All of them. Not that I ever went to the movies that much...sometimes I regret not having more of a social life, but looking back on the past 6 years I spent in Sarasota, I don't regret much...I mean, yes, there were the stupid decisions I made with regard to friends and boys but nothing big. Now we turn away from the main road and go out to pick up our dog out on Fruitville.

There goes the huge disgusting yellow Penske truck, containing the belongings we will need between now and when we move into our real house. It also contains my Father and his best friend, Harvey. Harvey's wife, Joan, rides with us.

This is the first move of it's kind for me. Before this, we left New Jersey, which I was hardly old enough to remember. Then there were those 4 crazy years that were sort of impossible to define...a year of transition, waiting for the boat to be built, then two years of living on a boat (probably one of the most influential experiences of my life--I learned independence), then another year, trying to sell the boat. Then, we moved to Sarasota. For a year, I stuck with home schooling. Maybe that's why the years before I started 4th grade are so confusing. There wasn't much of a structure. I was educated when I or when my parents felt like it. My education was really more of walking through cities in Georgia and Maryland and reading about the history of the settlers and about the civil war (we only took the boat all the way North to Maine once).

It is so damn hot in this car. My whipped cream is starting to melt. So is my mascara.

Anyway, where was I. So yes, I had a year of home schooling while living in FL. After I completed-ish 3rd grade, we decided to go to Goldie Feldman Academy. I went there for two years. It was easy, not very challenging, but a good environment for me to get used to real school and dealing with annoying people in my class. They were hard years. I had a few dysfunctional teachers, whose names will not be mentioned here. I will say that each of them meant well and was nice, just not...whatever. Let me say something about my life regarding school. Everywhere I have gone has been perfect for my time there. It was wonderful for what it was. So by the end of 5th grade, I had grown out of having a 10 person class. It had been a fantastic transition into regular school and I learned a lot, but 10 people? I needed more.

The next chapter was Pine View. It was daunting. I had heard all these tales about how much homework we would have, how hard it would be, but everybody said that it would be a good challenge for me, that I would make it, so I went. I switched from a school of 300 people to a class of 300 people. Looking back at 6th grade is not so fun. It's sort of embarrassing, but I guess it shouldn't be. I mean, I just hadn't figured things out yet. I didn't even bother to figure out who I was, I didn't care yet. It was beautiful oblivion. The day before 6th grade was over, I got myself a boyfriend, but as I learned later, it was only because of pressure from friends.

Then seventh grade, I broke up with him two months in because "things weren't working" but it stands to reason, since we were only in 7th grade. I lost a friendship because of differing preferences and regained an old friend because of class scheduling. I had some not so awesome teachers. Mostly. I was starting the whole self discovery thing, but not...so well. I didn't get it quite yet. I was proud. Correction: I am proud, I have always been proud, and I will probably always be proud, but I was obnoxious and noisy about it. Obnoxious is really the best word for me last year. Again, at the time, it was...not so beautiful oblivion. By the end of the year, some of my close friends were getting frustrated. I talked about myself all the time. Non-stop. It was disgusting. And I was a drama queen. I created an obsession to occupy myself. I mean, it wasn't based off of nothing, but really, it wasn't...alright, I convinced myself I was in love with somebody, when really it was only a slight interest. He happened to be taken, too. Which added to the drama. By the end of the year I started to get that I needed to reform myself.

That summer, I went to Italy and got to know better some of my older Opera friends. I have always been mature, but I think that that trip added to it. Any travel does, it adds to one's knowledge of the world, and to be on a trip with pretty much all people older than me, well...I got much closer to people who up until then had been only acquaintances. Then over the summer, I fell in love again. Not to sound sappy, but to explain my view on love, basically I think that love grows more substantial with experience. You gotta start somewhere, right? My big mistake: I told him. That sort of ruined my life for a month. The entire time, from the end of the summer on, there was the extra pressure of moving. In about November, I started the application to Deerfield. This brought on tension with my parents and bitchiness towards my friends. It was hard, but by December/January (cant remember), it was done. Then we had to start thinking about selling the house. Actually, January through May was good. Yeah, it had it's bumps. in April/May, there was the opera which brought on a huge load of stress. Rehearsals every day, lines to memorize, and missing my 8th grade dinner dance for opening night. It was hard because it was my last production in the Youth Opera. It wasn't hard...it was heart breaking. I spent all my tears on that. I didn't cry at graduation (I did the day after, but that was partially because of...rules), I didn't cry today, the day we moved (I teared up, but never actually cried-I just wanted out). This past year, I lost another friendship (not to the point of the last one, but it grew apart), and grew stronger in another one, got in fights with a third (the one that ended up being so troublesome in September) and made new ones altogether, ones that became so close in so little time, it's shocking to look back at. I had great teachers this year, and I learned a huge amount about everything: myself (I became subtler about expressing my pride although I did slip at times), people (i became more observant), and even regular school subjects. I have never enjoyed grammar (even though it cause my worst grades) or American History as much as I did with Mr. Wolfinger and Dr. Dean.

Reminds me of a song...sort of. Pretty irrelevant, really...
What will this day be like? I wonder.
What will my future be? I wonder.
It could be so exciting to be out in the world, to be free
My heart should be wildly rejoicing
Oh, what's the matter with me?

Except I'm not scared. I am excited beyond belief. I can't stop smiling, I can;t stop singing. I've been singing music from Chicago all day.

A chapter closes and another begins. A new adventure starts, I set out on a new quest. Before leaving the house for the last time, I stood in my room and collected all of the energy, good and bad, from the space and stored it away in my filing cabinet of experience. At first I wanted to leave behind the bad stuff, but then two thoughts hit me: I don't want to leave it for the people buying our house, and these are things that have formed me and who I am, so why do I need to let go? I can't ever really let go, I just need to adjust their prevalence. So I now have the last 6 years (or three years, depending on how you categorize: middle school or years in FL) stored away deep in me to call upon when I need to make judgement calls, or when I need to reflect upon my life. It will always be with me.

To all of you who knew me and are reading this, I want to thank you. Every single one of you (and yes, I mean each of you) have helped shape me in some way, have affected my life in some way. I will miss you all, even those of you I hate because of this. I wish you good health, good luck, and a good life. If it is meant to be, we will meet again.

Aaaand iiiiit's good, isn't it? Grand, isn't it? Great, isn't it? Swell, isn't it? Fun isn't it, Nowadays?