I've always had this strange vision of what it would be like to be a grown woman, finally done with the preliminary steps that are taken towards adulthood, out of college, into a steady job, and into a home. I've imagined it two ways: the single way, and the married way. Although one sounds more desirable than the other, I assure you, this picture in my mind [whether complete rubbish or not] of single, or dating, adulthood is not altogether a bad one.

Grocery shopping alone. I've had this love/hate relationship with the grocery store since my beginning college. I love it in that I am able to spend money on the thing I adore almost more than all other things: food. I hate the hassle it is to get out of the house, into my car, and down all the isles. But that sweet feeling of home after all of the things are unpacked and you know that the cupboard is full--that is a good thing.

Running errands. Today was full of them. Go to the bank, get the oil changed, return a movie at the absolute last minute, mail paperwork, grab quick cups of coffee in between--and all of this on my own time, with my own money, in my own car, out of my own house. It was frustrating and it was empowering. "Running errands". A phrase I always heard my mother use, a definitively grown up saying.

Time with friends. I'm beginning to realize that as I get older, my friends do as well. Bear with me on this one. Dinners with friends are no longer fast food get togethers, a quick lunch has now turned into brunch at a coffee shop. I like that. Maybe it's not like this for everyone, but dare I use the phrase "I've outgrown the fast food culture"? Granted, tonight I ate at Sonic, but the general idea of a 'quick meal' now has changed for me. I want good food. Quality food. I don't want to feel sick or dirty afterward. I suppose moving to a bigger city also has something to do with this change. More options. And I'm seeing that my friends want this as well as they change with me. Today I sat outside a coffee shop with a friend and just talked with him about things. All things. But mostly books. I look forward to getting older and older and older and having more and more and more to talk about. Just thinking six years back, my unstretched mind only grasped at boys and my immediate surroundings. If only I could compare my coffee today with coffee fifty years from now.

I imagine myself sometimes living in a big city alone, and not being lonely. I have a group of friends with similar lifestyles and we meet on a regular basis--talk about little things, joke, go to exhibits, go to movies, get ice cream. Granted, I know that I am spelling out an episode of Seinfeld, but this is the picture that has formed in my mind of how it could be. Tonight was a big step for me in the direction of independence without the fear of being alone. I went to a movie by myself. At first, I was ashamed, as if I thought that the man tearing ticket stubs knew that even though I acted casual and flippant, I was meeting no one in that dark theater. I felt pitiful. But as the lights dimmed and the picture began, I was lost in the story. In the end, I was glad I was alone. This was a film for me to relish, to smile and tear up at, and had someone been with me, my emotion would not have been so frank and real. To myself, I was the only person in the room, smiling openly for minutes on end, just because I loved the colours on the screen.

The film was Julie and Julia, and for all of my ramblings on a single lifestyle [or dating, for I am not single, but still caught in the phase of in between single and what lies beyond] it all comes around to this: I think for all of the quirky perks of staying in my own loft in a city with friends who understand me and the strong, good feeling of getting things done on your own--I think I'd like to not have that. I left the theater tonight with a smile on my face and my little dress blowing in the wind, and my thoughts on matrimony. Not rushed, not forced, but one day. One day. I think I'd like that a lot. And especially tonight, to be married and to cook.

On another note, my roommate Lee had a cocktail party last night. Lee broke out the old Polaroid and was able to capture myself and the elusive Daniel Hester on film.



It was a classy affair that I think we all enjoyed immensely. Not to mention our house is very clean now as a result.