reflections on life in Vancouver

today (well, tomorrow if you count by sleeps) marks the one-week anniversary of my arrival back in Vancouver. Back home, although the concept takes on a new meaning when you're in your 20s and constantly uprooting and resettling your life. For now, I've got a bed, a place to store my laptop (the window-sill), some closet space in my mom's closet (she did a big spring cleaning) and a shelf to put my shoes on. I've got a dog to cuddle with, hundreds of cable channels and healthy home cooking. In all of these senses, everything is fantastic. I really, REALLY love being here.

Despite the fact that I feel safe and nested for the first time in quite a while, I've been in a constant state of unrest about a bunch of stuff, most of which is too mundane to really get into. Jobs for the remainder of the summer, what I'm going to do next year, paying off my debts, thinking about what I want from my future, how I'm going to afford to get there -- these are the types of things that become monsters to me. They weave and spin around in my head until I can't make sense of them anymore and I feel like crawling into bed until the world decides on an appropriate solution for me. The consensus so far? The world doesn't always work like that. So it's my goal this summer to redefine my goals. Figure out what I really want from the next couple of years, and develop a good plan. I want to work on my body and my mind (lots of reading and writing!) and my relationships with my family (*coughdadcough*). I want to figure out what I believe in. I hate being 22 and idealistic (Steve would probably point out that I'm not 22 for another 9 days, but I digress).

Ah - the upcoming birthday. Requisite phone calls from distant family members. Having my little Ukrainian grandparents sing "happy birthday" to me in their sweet, out of tune voices over the phone. Dinner with mom and Regan. Requisite dinner with my dad. It stops getting excited about about 13, doesn't it? Birthdays are a real sore spot for me. I had my last birthday party when I was 12, and since then (10 years!) I've tried not to tell people about it, not to make a big deal about it, not to expect any sort of celebration for it ... then I won't be disappointed if no one remembers, or if no one makes a big deal, or if we don't celebrate. And I like it that way. Maybe being at home for my birthday will be different; my mom and I can have a nice day together. But if it's not, I won't worry about it. There are always more birthdays to look forward to :D

This wasn't supposed to be a bummer post - but considering my recent lack of updates, the fact that I've got anything posted at all is a minor accomplisment in itself. Stay tuned for more episodes of my West Coast installment - I promise you, I'm figuring it all out. After all, I can't be an angsty teenager forever, can I?