They say there’s linings made of silver folded inside each raining cloud Well, we need someone to deliver our silver lining now. And are we there yet? Home, home, home.

I’m told that being an adult involves thinking ahead and making goals and knowing what you want to do and paying bills and taking actual responsibility for your actions even when you don’t really want to. Because no matter how much you think back to your glory days—college or even high school; take your pick—you’re grown up now.

And being grown up means rationality. Logic. Sacrifice. Restlessness that was okay in your teen years because it meant you were open minded with a wide variety of interests; now it just seems flaky and a little juvenile, even to yourself.

So fine, I’ll make goals. I’ll graduate from university next year with two degrees and two theses, but probably still no concrete idea of what I want to do. Or where to go next.

I like Chicago. But I’m told it’s cold. And then I wonder…does it matter? Do I care? If moving to Chicago is what I want, why don’t I just go?

Is that too selfish of me? Do I care? Of course I do. Usually.

Yet it just occurred to me that it’s kind of hard to make goals for myself when my self doesn’t quite know what it wants. So excuse me for a moment while I process. Call this a running diatribe if you’d like, but I prefer the term “open and unfiltered self expression.” So maybe just consider yourself lucky that I’m sharing this at all. Because usually I wouldn’t but today I’m feeling a little irrational and quite a bit petulant and there’s a first time for everything, right?

Well then, what do I want?

I want to go home. And I want to know where that is exactly.

I want to eat speck and pasta with my Host Dad’s tomato sauce and Tuscan bread with olive oil and salt. I want to have real gelato one more time. Or maybe more than that, if this whole thing is about being honest.

I want to go everywhere and see everything and meet everyone; without worrying about money, without being shy, without wasting hours upon hours in stuffy airplanes and long immigration lines.

I want my senior thesis to jump from my brain into the hands of my professor and basically research, outline, and write itself.

I want to be consistent. As a blogger (what an awful term. Bleh), a student, a secretary, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a general human being.

I want to be able to cry when I know it would make me feel better. And I want to know why I can’t.

I want to write something people want to read. Partly because I’m a words of affirmation person and partly because ideas, even fictional ones, are better when shared.

I want to be with someone who’s a little dangerous, a little wounded, and probably a lot bad for me. And I want it to be okay that I probably won’t find him at church. I’ll just have to bring him there and hope he doesn’t lose what it is that drew me in the first place.

I want to protect myself without seeming villainous or self-centered. If you feel you can tell me anything, please know that you truly can and I will do my very best to be loving and supportive in any way possible. But if this is not reciprocal, then where does that leave me? Alone and drowning in myself.

I want to express what I want without seeming petty or childish. Or like I don’t care what God’s plan is for my life. Because that isn’t true.

I want life to be easy. Not for me, but for the people I love. I want my parents to retire whenever they’d like. For my sister to get into her dream school. For my Dad not to worry about my ever deepening academic debt.

I want to have lots of kids so that 50 or so years from now I will be my grandma. And I want to be the same inspiration to my grandchildren that she is to me.

I want River Song to come back to Doctor Who. I want Eun Sang to choose Young Do. And I want Maid Marian to go back in time where she belongs.

I want exactly twelve happy days to every one that is even moderately sad.

I want university snow days. Or at least rain that is only ever warm. Even in winter.

I want the A’s without the effort. And the ability to go back and improve those grades from the days when I thought such academic magic was actually possible.

I want to go to Cuba. And North Korea. And Saudi Arabia. Just because I know I can’t.

I want extraordinary willpower so I can use it to exercise every day. But mostly just so I’ll read my Bible, even when it’s not Sunday.

I want my hair to be long enough for people to instantly tell I’ve never cut it because “You’ve never cut it? Really?! Then, why isn’t it longer?” isn’t exactly something I like to hear.

I want clean cut to be enough when I really know that I prefer sharp edges.

I want this to mean something. To be more than a petty, childish expression of my current (and likely changeable) desires. And I want this to actually assist me in the writing of my goals so I stop feeling too unorganized and irresponsible for all the sacrifices that have been made for me.

I want to think I’m not the only one who feels this way. That maybe my exercise in self help has maybe helped you too.

So lastly, I want to thank you. No one asked you to stick with this project; to read all the way to the bottom; to attempt to relate to the wants of someone else, but you did. And I thank you for it.

**Title: “Are We There Yet?” by Ingrid Michaelson**

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Stand a little taller. Thanks to you I got a new thing started; thanks to you I’m finally thinking about me. You know in the end the day I left was just my beginning.

So it turns out that being a real adult is a lot more difficult than it seems. Who knew, right? As children we tend to miss what’s right in front of us. Case in point: lewd jokes in children’s movies and TV shows (http://www.buzzfeed.com/daves4/adults-jokes-in-cartoons-you-didnt-understand-as-a-kid). Kids can be super perceptive about some things, but I for one know that I spent most of my childhood blissfully unaware of the hardships of the real world. This is how childhood should be…ideally. Unfortunately, 21st century earth is not Utopia, Thomas More’s or otherwise, and child soldiers, child abuse, and high infant mortality are very real and pressing current issues. Despite these global troubles, my parents did an award-winning job of shielding my sisters and me from the negative aspects of adulthood.

Not that I thought being grown up was a “piece of cake” (I never understood this idiom), but I didn’t expect the heavy weight of responsibility which so often accompanies living on one’s own. I also believed my future adult relationships would be spontaneous, long-lasting, romantic, and straight out of a fairy tale. I recently started watching Once Upon a Time and have come to realize something interesting. My parents are, and have always been, hopelessly in love with each other and are, therefore, basically Snow White and Prince Charming. Because of their relationship, I believe in true love and even soul mates; but actually though.

I recognize that the likelihood of meeting my one true love at 20 is not very high. But a girl can dream. And since “a dream is a wish your heart makes,” it’s bound to happen eventually. Disney taught me that. Amy and Rory did too.

And that’s what being an adult is about I think. Learning from personal mistakes and experiences–of course–but also finding life lessons in the most unexpected places. Like a cult British television show. Like a young person giving up their bus seat for an elderly person. Like the stomach ache you get from eating too much chocolate  (which you can do now, as an adult, but probably still shouldn’t).

So what brought this on? My life has been so blessed and I’m very lucky to have parents who are still supporting me through college, even financially. Because they want me to fully appreciate Europe while I’m here, they’ve agreed to pay for travel costs during Fall Break. Starting this Thursday evening I will be going from Florence to Barcelona (affectionately referred to as “Barca”); Sunday Ty and I are off to Madrid; then Wednesday I leave Spain for Prague, where I’ll be until Saturday afternoon when I return home to Florence. It’s a lot; I know.

Which is my point. My family and I have travelled a lot over the years but I haven’t really had to coordinate plans for any of those trips. I merely packed a suitcase when instructed and enjoyed the fruit of my parents’ labor. Now that I’ve had to plan for myself, I’m beginning to understand why going on holiday might seem more like work than relaxation, at least at first.

And going to the doctor! That’s another thing. I’m not agoraphobic by any means, but interacting with people I don’t know is hardly my favorite pastime. Honestly I’d rather stay home and read a book than hang out with other human beings. Escapism: we’ve discussed this; it’s a problem. Normally this behavior is fine, if a little lonely. When it comes to my health, however, I probably should be much more proactive.

I’ve had chronic ear problems since, well, ever. This means that I’ll occasionally get an ear infection which won’t go away unless it gets treated. The last time I had one, I neglected to visit the doctor and temporarily lost hearing in my left ear for almost a month. I brought it on myself but it was still pretty awful. So this time I dutifully called the doctor and made an appointment as soon as I felt ear pain. A few days after my visit, I felt much better and was mentally patting myself on the back for actually being responsible this time.

I still visit home when I’ve got time off and a ticket to China, so I have a tendency to lapse back into irresponsibility and revel in the time I spend with my parents because it not only means I get to see my family, but also that I’ll be taken care of again. I’m sure my mom and Papa would drop everything and come to me if I absolutely needed them to, but for now I’ll settle for a balance between being a self-reliant adult and being an overgrown, completely dependent child.

**Title: “What Doesn’t Kill You (Stronger)” by Kelly Clarkson**