who am i?

I don't know what happened. I don't know what snapped, or clicked, or popped, or [insert onomatopoeia here].

I have become a person I know not of.

I'm talking about that moment where you finally begin to process that you have, indeed, left childhood. That you are, unbelievably, an adult. No qualifiers, no "to an extent", no "occasionally" or "sometimes." You just know: this is what adults do, and I'm one of them.

It did not happen when my student loans came due. It did not happen when I realized I can pay off my car loan (hooray!). It did not happen when I bought a shirt whose tag reads "Dry Clean Only."

We're getting warmer, though.

Because it did happen in my room. Yes, my friends. The moment I realized I'd become an adult occurred right here in the space that is all mine (save for the family's ironing board in the corner).

I have somehow become a person who makes her bed. Who puts things in drawers...and not just any drawer - no, no...the right one. I'm a person with a file box that functions perfectly. I hang my clothes facing the same direction, I iron my skirts, and I keep all my African clothes together in a hanging shelf system.

I pick up my room each night before bed because I don't enjoy blindly navigating the mine field of throw pillows, high heels, purses, dirty clothes, and the occasional book first thing in the morning.

Who am I?

The fun answer is "my mother's daughter." Because the truth is that I become more like my mom every day I move around on this planet.

But the truer answer to that question is that I'm just growing up. I'm putting childish things behind me, and finding new ways to take control of my own life. It starts with dry-clean only dress shirts, and the next thing you know, it'll be a job.

Oh come on... you didn't actually think I could write a post with no mention of my job search, did you?