Since the beginning of time, there comes a moment that has been repeated in all species of the animal kingdom. That moment when the fledgling tries it's wings and flies away from the nest. In all corners of the globe, though the destination of the fledgling may be different, the scene and the motivation is the same: independence.
And that's exactly why I have been packing up my stuff for the past few days. Independence. So, it looks like I will be leaving Tucson and start a new life in Milwaukee, Wisconsin as a clothing buyer for a new store. And it hasn't been easy. But not for reasons, you may believe.
My mother has decided to go on a non-stop rampage to try and stop me from going to Milwaukee. Like, the other day, for example: I was packing up a box with all my personal belongings and was just finishing with the first layer of packing tape, when all of a sudden my mother freaks out about the tape I was using.
"What are you doing?! You're using very expensive carpet tape to tape your boxes?! No! Absolutely not! That tape is very expensive and very hard to find! No, I am sorry, but, you cannot use any more!"
Who knew we had priceless, expensive tape laying around in our house? Priceless tape that could not be purchased just at an ol' carpet store, you know? And I couldn't just go out and buy tape, since I am still broke and I am still waiting for my unemployment check to kick in, which has been really hard to get, since Alice, my boss, has been very uncooperative. My mother said was an obvious sign that I probably shouldn't move. If I can't afford tape, how can I afford life in another city?
The other day, she asked me if my future boss knew I wasn't a good worker. Yeah. Just like that: "Does your boss know you're not a good worker?"
I asked her what she meant by that, and apparently, she doesn't think I go the extra mile in my work. That I don't perform at an exceletory level. Ok, so "exceletory" isn't a real word, but the point still stands. She wasn't basing her bias opinion on my job performance at work. She was basing it on the work I do at home, which apparently isn't top-notch. At least, by her standards.
She's even told me, that once I'm gone she's converting my room into a family room, by knocking down the wall that's connected to the living room. More open space, as she calls it. More open space? That's what my room will be when I'm gone? Space?! Once my brother got word of her ideas, he started arguing with her claiming he was gonna make my bedroom, his, since he was the second to oldest. Then, my younger brother went off about how he was promised the bigger room when we moved again, and since I was moving, the promise still counted. My bed isn't even cold and the memory foam mattress still has my ass print on it, and already my family is fighting over my room.
Granted, it is a desirable room, because it used to be a dining room when we first moved into the house, and nobody wanted the room because it wasn't a typical "bedroom" and it had tile, not carpet, which made it less homely. Since, I was the last one to see the house, I didn't get dibs on any of the bedrooms, so I got stuck with it. And since that time, I've transformed it into a small studio apartment of sorts. I put in bookcases, a desk with a hutch, an armoir, a whole seating area with a club chairs and a big sleigh bed right in the middle. And now everyone wants it and soon every memory of me in that room will be just that - a memory.
In some twisted, demented, and deluded way, this is probably my family's way of making me give Milwaukee a second thought and to keep me from going. Especially my mother's idea. But I couldn't let her stop me. My mind was set. In fact, it's been set since December 24. That was the day I got an email with my results from the oral interview I had with the Records Specialists at the Police Department. Before opening the email, I knew I had to make a decision soon. And I chose Milwaukee. Something in my heart told me Milwaukee was for me. That it was this giant waiting room, where I had to put in my time and soon enough my name would be called and I would go on to do bigger and better things.
That's why I never opened the email. I didn't want it to make me second guess my decision. Because if I opened up that email and it said I had passed my interview and would move on to the next level, my head would battle my heart and tell me to go and I would still be no closer to coming to a decision. But now that I was at a decision, my mother was not making it any easier on me.
Is this normal parent-child behavior? I've never done this before, moving out and living on my own, and I always had this image in my head that when the time came, it would be a family-type event where everyone would help and pack and everything would be done in a few hours. Do parents really make the moving process difficult on their children?
And that's exactly why I have been packing up my stuff for the past few days. Independence. So, it looks like I will be leaving Tucson and start a new life in Milwaukee, Wisconsin as a clothing buyer for a new store. And it hasn't been easy. But not for reasons, you may believe.
My mother has decided to go on a non-stop rampage to try and stop me from going to Milwaukee. Like, the other day, for example: I was packing up a box with all my personal belongings and was just finishing with the first layer of packing tape, when all of a sudden my mother freaks out about the tape I was using.
"What are you doing?! You're using very expensive carpet tape to tape your boxes?! No! Absolutely not! That tape is very expensive and very hard to find! No, I am sorry, but, you cannot use any more!"
Who knew we had priceless, expensive tape laying around in our house? Priceless tape that could not be purchased just at an ol' carpet store, you know? And I couldn't just go out and buy tape, since I am still broke and I am still waiting for my unemployment check to kick in, which has been really hard to get, since Alice, my boss, has been very uncooperative. My mother said was an obvious sign that I probably shouldn't move. If I can't afford tape, how can I afford life in another city?
The other day, she asked me if my future boss knew I wasn't a good worker. Yeah. Just like that: "Does your boss know you're not a good worker?"
I asked her what she meant by that, and apparently, she doesn't think I go the extra mile in my work. That I don't perform at an exceletory level. Ok, so "exceletory" isn't a real word, but the point still stands. She wasn't basing her bias opinion on my job performance at work. She was basing it on the work I do at home, which apparently isn't top-notch. At least, by her standards.
She's even told me, that once I'm gone she's converting my room into a family room, by knocking down the wall that's connected to the living room. More open space, as she calls it. More open space? That's what my room will be when I'm gone? Space?! Once my brother got word of her ideas, he started arguing with her claiming he was gonna make my bedroom, his, since he was the second to oldest. Then, my younger brother went off about how he was promised the bigger room when we moved again, and since I was moving, the promise still counted. My bed isn't even cold and the memory foam mattress still has my ass print on it, and already my family is fighting over my room.
Granted, it is a desirable room, because it used to be a dining room when we first moved into the house, and nobody wanted the room because it wasn't a typical "bedroom" and it had tile, not carpet, which made it less homely. Since, I was the last one to see the house, I didn't get dibs on any of the bedrooms, so I got stuck with it. And since that time, I've transformed it into a small studio apartment of sorts. I put in bookcases, a desk with a hutch, an armoir, a whole seating area with a club chairs and a big sleigh bed right in the middle. And now everyone wants it and soon every memory of me in that room will be just that - a memory.
In some twisted, demented, and deluded way, this is probably my family's way of making me give Milwaukee a second thought and to keep me from going. Especially my mother's idea. But I couldn't let her stop me. My mind was set. In fact, it's been set since December 24. That was the day I got an email with my results from the oral interview I had with the Records Specialists at the Police Department. Before opening the email, I knew I had to make a decision soon. And I chose Milwaukee. Something in my heart told me Milwaukee was for me. That it was this giant waiting room, where I had to put in my time and soon enough my name would be called and I would go on to do bigger and better things.
That's why I never opened the email. I didn't want it to make me second guess my decision. Because if I opened up that email and it said I had passed my interview and would move on to the next level, my head would battle my heart and tell me to go and I would still be no closer to coming to a decision. But now that I was at a decision, my mother was not making it any easier on me.
Is this normal parent-child behavior? I've never done this before, moving out and living on my own, and I always had this image in my head that when the time came, it would be a family-type event where everyone would help and pack and everything would be done in a few hours. Do parents really make the moving process difficult on their children?
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