So, this is... my last day of legally being a minor... and it's going pretty much like any other day...
- except that my mother took this computer to remove some of her files (finally) and I don't think she can have avoided seeing the Oasis tab, so I just hope she respects my privacy and doesn't read anything; she's generally pretty good about that sort of thing, but I'll have to find some clever way of confirming that she's not reading my journal -
...and I don't know why I'm making such a big deal of this whole turning-eighteen thing...
Actually, I turn eighteen at nine o'clock-ish tonight, because I was born in a different time zone...
And... I'll either be Oasisizing or lying in bed watching the clock. And that will be what I remember, which is why I'm making a big deal about it. It will be one of the things I remember.
I remember when the millennium turned. I was seven years old, and the family was gathered in the living room watching the countdown on the television. I wanted everybody, not just the humans, to be in the room, so I rushed to my room to get my snake (not the one whose tail was recently amputated, but the rather short-lived one preceding), and couldn't find it - I think it was probably hiding under its water dish. By the time I gave up and came back to the living room, the year 2000 was already upon us. When the millennium turned, I was trying to find my snake.
I remember my eighth birthday. That evening, my family went to Chuck E Cheese's for pizza and play, and then we headed to the airport to catch our midnight flight to Belize.
I remember my eleventh birthday, in Amsterdam with various Dutch-American relatives. They gave me a music box shaped like a windmill and made of blue-and-white porcelain. There was a cake that had something to do with pineapples.
I remember turning twelve, on a boat from Crete to Athens. We had gotten a cabin for the night just for my sake - on the way out, we had slept in chairs. The next day, my birthday, we searched Athens for cake and souvenirs. The cake was disappointing because of its anise/fennel/licorice flavor, and we couldn't find anything even resembling a lyre despite their being in all the myths.
I remember my thirteenth birthday, the first one spent at home in a long while. I went to school, my friends hugged me and wished me a happy birthday.
I remember turning fourteen, sitting in bed reading a book of which I now remember only the title, and I remember the birthday following, when I went to school and was upset because I had no friends and no one knew it was my birthday. Out of the blue, a classmate asked me how old I was. I told her I was turning fourteen that day, and then broke down crying. The entire eighth-grade class, or at least the female half of it, made me brightly-colored birthday cards using graph paper and lined paper and highlighters and gel pens. It may have been my best birthday of all.
And I remember fifteen, hiking through a quicksand-riddled canyon in Arizona, trying and failing to get back to civilisation in time for a real dinner. We must have hiked fifteen miles that day. My dad got a stress fracture in his leg. We dry-camped, late at night, and laughed about trying to get out.
On my sixteenth birthday, Leigh and I went to Disneyland.
Seventeen was thoroughly unmemorable.
And tomorrow, unless - as is completely possible - I am overpowered by fear and doubt, I will start asking people to call me Adriel. I'll be clear about the fact that I'm just trying it on to see how it fits, because my gender is not female enough for my given name, and I don't want a sex change or anything but just want to experiment with being something else socially.
...Yeah. We'll see how that goes. Heheheheh. Nervous laugh.