Americanism 101: Seize Your Adulthood Soon as You Can

Un-believable! He was being very loquacious and was asking a lot of questions. Have you been to Maine yet? Kennebunkport? New Hampshire? Actually being interested of what my life has become after the short four months since I left home.

I followed his instructions to not make contact until three months later. Well, I almost did. My Dad told me to send and email to my step-mom every three months, the only way he wanted to find out whatever happened with me. He was too upset with me leaving, and living with my boyfriend, to even see an email from me to him. I've actually sent emails every now and then to her.

For his birthday though, I made it a point to call him. I was brave enough to get hung up on, or be sent to voicemail. It was neither. He picked up the phone, and talked about his Pirates of the Caribbean skit -- nowadays the most successful way of presenting an occupational safety crash course in the world of Environmental Health and Safety! The new talk of the town! Maybe because they share the symbol of Skulls and Crossbones? Whatever it was, it worked. It was in line with his recent promotion. It was definitely his new stock of renewed happiness. Whew!

So, am I back in his good graces? Well, I don't know yet.
But I do have some New England lobster and clam chowder on the way.

A big pang of ambivalent remorse just eased out of me. Worry about what pleasing my Dad first of all -- checked that off my list! Or more like, "it's not there anymore"  kind of check-off. I've broken through the barrier that was a combination of his mind and mine; and the rest of the voices of authority in my family. An adult at last! Heavily exhorted about my fragile wings, but has taken off nonetheless! It feels so good!

When I first got here, my mind found itself in cognitive dissonance. Why do kids here hurry up to adulthood, and not know what to do when they get there? Boyfriend turnover rates in grade school; sexual relations at 13 years; prevalent misconception combined with an illusory streak of independence at 18; and then at 28, pushing 30, with no idea what to do with her life.

I think I know why. Americanism 101 says, "Seize your Adulthood, soon as you can."

You are not an adult as long as you live in your parents' house. Well, if you're in your late teens to early 20's, chances are you could use some of it to save for rainy days, but really, money is not an object.

You are not an adult of you let them tell you what to do with your life. Maybe even if you think you have a solid clue, you could use at least some points of their perspective, but you don't really want that corrupting your firm resolve. Don't listen to them - even their slightest ideas will undermine your "goals."

You are not an adult if you don't move far away for college. Never mind the money savings. It's all about the experience.

You are not an adult if you don't protect your freedom (well, from what your parents think). At all costs.

You are not an adult if you don't make yourself believe that you are. Even when it is very clear that you need parental assistance.

Of course this is an extreme generalization. This is not untrue, however.

Obviously the fundamental agents of deceit are "freedom" and "independence." Both overrated, mis-represented and misunderstood. I bet we all keep re-defining these concepts over our lifetimes. Just like these kids. Just like me.

Unless I am under any form of duress, freedom in America is something I already have. If I am raised in a simple life in the farthest reaches of the Kansas farms; or I'm a poor kid living in an LA slum, there is access either way. Both have public libraries, and free Internet access. I can start there. I am free to rise above the barriers I was born with, all it takes is the learning of where to look. Resources are available, if I wanted my dreams bad enough.

Independence, too, finds common ground. We are after all, in the most individualistic nation on earth! That is why competition is fierce, and standards are stiff. That explains all these great ideas, these innovative TV ads. From our iPods, to our RockBands; from the phrase, "There's only one way to know." We prove time and again that: 1) There is room for trial & error, and 2) Curiosity is rewarded. And that, my friends, is all borne out of independence. The mind is free to think. You can harbor any and all thoughts. Just don't act on those that will get you in trouble with the law.

In the hands of juvenile minds, these two concepts take different Play-doh shapes.

Don't get me wrong. I think trying to be the strongest, most street-smart, and seasoned adult that you can be is more often a good strategy. The wise man's methods are least applied out of all the cases, of course. Many of us are saved out of our disillusion, for many too, the damage has been, or will be done.

We all get there either way. I just think it's better to take your time. And if you don't, try to cut your losses. There is always a lesson to learn along the way. The most important part is to pick up on it, and live it like a true adult.

What It's Like to be Raw

Raw is what you call something that is not quite there where it needs to be. I am a raw individual, in many different ways.

Finish college for one reason, get employed for another, and desire get into graduate school for yet another -- that's raw right there.
Fall in [and out of] love with four completely different males. Yes, that is raw.
Desire to augment other's needs in the name of social welfare, but find that you yourself are also short;
Be fickle with your fashion signature; can't quite decide between preppie East Coast, easy-going West Coast, business chic San Francisco, clean-lined Wall Street, or just a drawer-full of push-up bras. That, is raw.
Non-fiction or novels;
Poetic or prosey;
Quality or money;
To be confident, or conservative;
Dreams, or other dreams;
A nice dinner together, or time to myself;
Stay indoors and get some rubber tire rest, or explore the world out there;
Sleep in, pay toll, and drive to work, or get up early, save gas, then take the train.
Save the world, or find myself first.
Pursue my dreams with reckless abandon, or consider people I care about and their feelings.
That all, makes me raw.

I am a child born out of wedlock. It never was a problem for me. My mother's family was very loving; while my father who migrated to the US before I came out gave me all the expatriate care all the way.

After college I decided to take advantage of my father's US Citizenship to be somewhere else, and try something different.

I now live in Boston, Massachusetts after calling the San Francisco Bay Area home for five years. Once again, just to try something different.

Before I flew to the US for the very first time, an ex-American told me to make this country my "playground."
That's exactly what it is.

And after all, I am still a child with an impressionable mind. Just recently have I come to use the explanation, "I am developing myself" whenever situations find me indecisive.
That's all OK. I am almost an American now anyway. Not just literally, but quite figuratively.

Here since Day 1, I've been presented with food servings fit for four-six people (unless I'm in a tapas bar), a multi-ethnic array of friends, the vastest commercial choices in the whole world, and a cute white boyfriend [who all along took huge pride in his German descent only to find out later he was Portuguese and Hawaiian, too].

This is where dreams are possible for conversion into your reality. This is America. And I am one of the many Raw Americans. Living within a continuously evolving hyphenation of cultures, and struggling to find my own.

I may not be as American as an apple pie, but I am for now the Bob's Red Mill Old Country Style Muesli found at your neighbor Trader Joe's; and prepared Swiss Style, eaten from a bowl made in China. This is my life. Only in America.