be so
hungry I’m just telling myself I smell something good. Either way,
it looks like food wins out. At least Panda Express is a form of
Asian food. That has to mean something. It could have been a
McDonald’s or a Taco Bell. Then where would I be? This could even
be a very small concession from the universe. I think that’s how
I’ll look at it.
Having finally made up my mind to go in, I
find a place to park close to the door and go in. The second thing
I notice – after a line that will take at least twenty minutes – is
that there’s a bowl of fortune cookies by the cash register. Looks
like I won’t be forced to drive back home after all.
It smells just as good inside as it did from
my car, and I start thinking less about what secret messages the
universe might be sending me and more about what to have for lunch.
I’m still not all that far away from home, but it feels like I am.
I think it might have something to do with being totally alone and
away from home. Calling is always an option. So is getting in my
car and driving back. What makes it all seem so out of the ordinary
is that I’m the one calling the shots. I’m making all the
decisions. Obviously, I’m not totally independent, because my
parents still expect me to come home (not to mention they’re
helping to finance my late-adolescence-crisis trip). It’s just the
most “on my own” I’ve ever been. It’ll be like this every day in
college. If I get around to picking one. There’s a disaster that’ll
be waiting for me when I get back. I’m not sure if it’s better to
use this time to contemplate what I’ll do when I get home or just
ignore everything until I’m home and hope the answers just
appear.
If I were taking this road trip with
William, things would be different. We’d talk and help each other
figure things out. He’d be driving though, and while I’d still
probably get to dictate all the when’s and where’s of our stops he
would, ultimately, be in control. I love William. I’d give anything
to have him back, but there is something a little empowering about
only having myself to rely on. Sure, it helps knowing I have a home
to go back to where bills aren’t my concern, but all this not
having to wait on someone else is kind of nice. There might be
something to this being-on-your-own thing after all. Choosing where
to eat and what to do with my life are very different questions,
though. I think it’d be nice to have someone in my life (other than
a parent) to talk about those big questions with. Sometimes it’s
nice to be alone, but other times it’s just lonely.
“What are you gettin’?”
“Huh?” I stare at the guy in front of me who
is wearing the uniform red shirt and black hat. For some reason his
question just isn’t registering in my brain.
“To eat. What’s your order? Food?” he looks
at me like I’m an idiot. He’s probably younger than me, too. He’s
got his first job and that freshman look about him, but he’s trying
to cover it up by acting like a jackass. I’ve never understood why
people do that. Acting like a jerk doesn’t make him look any less
young. I remember my freshman year phase though. Me and Amanda went
through it together. We fed off of each other’s insanity. I was a
real bitch back then. It’s hard to see it when you’re a part of it,
though. It’s amazing the growing-up a person can do in four
years.
“Beef with broccoli, General Tso’s chicken,
and fied rice.” I smile and pretend I don’t notice he’s trying to
be insulting. I hope he isn’t involved in the preparing of the
food. I’m not sure I’d trust him enough to eat it.
The line moves a little quicker now that the
ordering is over and everyone pays with some form of plastic. I
hate it when people stop a line by trying to count out change in
pennies, or, God forbid, they want to write a check. Not that they
don’t have a right to use their coins or stay out of debt and away
from identity thieves,
hungry I’m just telling myself I smell something good. Either way,
it looks like food wins out. At least Panda Express is a form of
Asian food. That has to mean something. It could have been a
McDonald’s or a Taco Bell. Then where would I be? This could even
be a very small concession from the universe. I think that’s how
I’ll look at it.
Having finally made up my mind to go in, I
find a place to park close to the door and go in. The second thing
I notice – after a line that will take at least twenty minutes – is
that there’s a bowl of fortune cookies by the cash register. Looks
like I won’t be forced to drive back home after all.
It smells just as good inside as it did from
my car, and I start thinking less about what secret messages the
universe might be sending me and more about what to have for lunch.
I’m still not all that far away from home, but it feels like I am.
I think it might have something to do with being totally alone and
away from home. Calling is always an option. So is getting in my
car and driving back. What makes it all seem so out of the ordinary
is that I’m the one calling the shots. I’m making all the
decisions. Obviously, I’m not totally independent, because my
parents still expect me to come home (not to mention they’re
helping to finance my late-adolescence-crisis trip). It’s just the
most “on my own” I’ve ever been. It’ll be like this every day in
college. If I get around to picking one. There’s a disaster that’ll
be waiting for me when I get back. I’m not sure if it’s better to
use this time to contemplate what I’ll do when I get home or just
ignore everything until I’m home and hope the answers just
appear.
If I were taking this road trip with
William, things would be different. We’d talk and help each other
figure things out. He’d be driving though, and while I’d still
probably get to dictate all the when’s and where’s of our stops he
would, ultimately, be in control. I love William. I’d give anything
to have him back, but there is something a little empowering about
only having myself to rely on. Sure, it helps knowing I have a home
to go back to where bills aren’t my concern, but all this not
having to wait on someone else is kind of nice. There might be
something to this being-on-your-own thing after all. Choosing where
to eat and what to do with my life are very different questions,
though. I think it’d be nice to have someone in my life (other than
a parent) to talk about those big questions with. Sometimes it’s
nice to be alone, but other times it’s just lonely.
“What are you gettin’?”
“Huh?” I stare at the guy in front of me who
is wearing the uniform red shirt and black hat. For some reason his
question just isn’t registering in my brain.
“To eat. What’s your order? Food?” he looks
at me like I’m an idiot. He’s probably younger than me, too. He’s
got his first job and that freshman look about him, but he’s trying
to cover it up by acting like a jackass. I’ve never understood why
people do that. Acting like a jerk doesn’t make him look any less
young. I remember my freshman year phase though. Me and Amanda went
through it together. We fed off of each other’s insanity. I was a
real bitch back then. It’s hard to see it when you’re a part of it,
though. It’s amazing the growing-up a person can do in four
years.
“Beef with broccoli, General Tso’s chicken,
and fied rice.” I smile and pretend I don’t notice he’s trying to
be insulting. I hope he isn’t involved in the preparing of the
food. I’m not sure I’d trust him enough to eat it.
The line moves a little quicker now that the
ordering is over and everyone pays with some form of plastic. I
hate it when people stop a line by trying to count out change in
pennies, or, God forbid, they want to write a check. Not that they
don’t have a right to use their coins or stay out of debt and away
from identity thieves,
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