Ctrl, Alt, ...

One

No one ever tells you whether or not you're doing a good job living. There is no rubric on life, 10 points to cleaning your room, 30 points to not having just pre frozen dinners in your fridge, 5 points to washing your clothes or at least spraying yourself with spray before going out. No one tells you how important it is to know how to change  a tire, or even set up a bank account, not to mention how to make sure you don't get any of their ridiculous bank fees for transferring money more than their set limit. Speaking of which, that was never clarified to me when I finally did set up a bank account and now I will forever owe the bank $30 because I wanted wings, and my wing money was in my savings. And here I thought that my 20's were going to be much more than just teenage years with less money and less hope. At least when I was 17 my mom did my laundry and I didn't have to worry if my lunch was going to be more than just a handful of chips, and my roommates 2-week-old sub from the local sub shop. 

I don't think my family did a good job on preparing me for this real world shit. 

Is it entirely possible to be a 23-year-old who still sits in her underwear, sat in front of her laptop and watching internet tutorials on how to make something other than a grill cheese sandwich, and still be functioning enough to go to class, keep friends and also survive? If this is how the world was supposed to work, why don't I see more funeral services for 20-somethings, because at this rate I'm going to die of hunger or utter lack of perseverance skills. 

My mother aggressively tells me that I need to 'get a handle on my life'. 

"I can barely make a cup of tea, how am I supposed to get a handle on my life?" Usually this is accompanied by my mom patting my head and sighing. "Anthea, you're 23-years-old, I can't be telling you how to do everything in your life. You know I was married and already pregnant at your age.." I know mom, you haven't let me forgotten how much of your life I've wasted. "and I was working a steady job that paid for-" This is usually where I think about what I'm going to order for dinner, or if I should continue to look at Ian McShire's feed, he gets tagged in a lot of really good candid pictures, also Chinese sounds so good right now. "Anthea, are you listening?" And just on time my mom drags me out of my euphoric thoughts, "Yes mom, get my life together, give you grandchildren, bladdy bladdy blah and so on." A quick, yet sharp smack landed on the top of my head, "Ow mom." She just laughed at me, and shooshed me out of her room. "Go home, my show is on." I love you too mom, thanks for wanting to spend time with your eldest daughter. Out of all of the years I lived in this house, on this street, I never noticed the way that the light shone through the windows, and made everything look so... yellow. It even made me look yellow, and that's saying something I am always a toasty tan tone. I tipped toed through the yellow light into the kitchen, quickly stuffing some of my siblings fruit snacks into my pocket and knicking a juice box, or three. Those little suckers are lucky, they don't have a clue how life is going to bite them in the ass one day. "I saw you, you know." Ugh, the youngest twerp is in the living room. "And?" She's a 8 year old with the attitude of a 45-year-old business woman fighting for the last chair in the committee. "I won't tell mom." I nodded my head, knowing that there will be multiple terms and conditions. "But," Here we go. "I want you, to take me, Jake, Isy and Fernando to the mall, and buy as PG-13 movie tickets." She grinned, I couldn't help but snort at her. "PG-13? Ok, whatever you want, see you later dork." I saluted her and walked out of the house. I can't help but to think back at myself when I was 8, was going to a PG-13 movie really that 'cool'. Man, I was a dork. 

As I walked to my beaten up used car, the only thing I could afford to buy since tuition and bills have been hindering me from my dream car, I looked around and noticed the eerie quietness. I still can't grasp the fact that sitting on your porch isn't a common thing anymore, it's been replaced with live tweeting a political campaign or some horrid gossip stories. But I shouldn't complain since all I do is stare at my phone and creep on my ex boyfriend, who really does get tagged in some really good pictures. What does a person with little money, little life experience and little expectations and goals do with herself, all I can think about is that when I turn 30 I will have it all together. Student loans will be a thing of the past, I'll have a house, maybe a kid or two and a 401k, but I have to be honest with myself. It's not going to happen. The quick trip home had me thinking about what I was meant to be, why I'm not what I thought I was going to be when I was a 8-year-old punk like my sister. But then again, being a successful person in your twenties is so rare. After popping in another frozen dinner into my microwave, I strip down to my undies and tank top and continue to do the millennial thing, binge watch netflix until there is nothing else but the sounds of friends or the x files filling my room. Here's to my twenties, another 10 year span of still not knowing what I want to be when I grow up.