Pocky and Watercolors

In less than five hours, my parents and I will be out on the open road towards Gatlinburg, where we have our reservations at what used to be a Holiday Inn Express but is now a 'lodge' of some sorts. Why Gatlinburg when my college is over an hour away in Johnson City? Because, we felt like it.

No, really it's because of the NASCAR race in Bristol. It has been decided that I am from the North, whether I was born and raised there or not. Not only do I hate tea (sweet, unsweet, cold, or hot), but I hate biscuits. What's worse is that I hate gravy, especially biscuits and gravy. I think that cornbread should have sugar in it instead of just plain Jiffy corn mix and milk. I hate most if not all canned vegetables unless done correctly. Especially green beans. I neither talk with a Southern drawl nor do I put up with NASCAR or stupidity. I just don't fit.

Which is fine, I guess. It would have been scary if my boyfriend and I had actually everything in common. He loves biscuits and gravy, which we generally have at Waffle House. Why Waffle House? Because no matter the hour, he can order a hamburger and biscuits and gravy if he wants while I have a pork chop or whatever else catches my fancy. It is our eat out of choice when we're in a hurry and we're too tired to argue over where to eat. Not that we argue, it's just that he'll suggest Jack in the Crack, I'll suggest Taco Hell, so forth and so on.

Everything (or almost everything) is surprisingly packed in the Jeep leaving me little room but I'll manage somehow. I always do. I can't complain this trip because all of what's in the back is mine. Just mine, no one else's. All of the overnight bags are being placed in the baggage carrier that's already been placed on the Jeep. I've had my last meal at home, said good bye to Donald, the family friend, my grandmother, and my boyfriend - which was a teary business but more on my part than his. One of my friends said that college will be good for me, it'll teach me independence. This friend doesn't know me very well.

After all, he's talking to the kid who, when she was three or four years of age, before they came out with the holster for kids and a leash for the parents, had a dog collar around her waist and a leash for her mom to hold onto. You're talking to the kid that had her parents on first name basis with the principals thanks to her antics. I was hell when I was a kid, I was hell when I was a teenager, I've surprisingly enough calmed down rather nicely and even then I'm the wild child. I've never had a problem with being independent, it's sharing and being a partner instead of just dealing with everything myself that's the learning experience. I'm going to have to let the distance not keep me from telling Jerry something that's bothering me. I'm just going to have to do what I always try to be with him - honest and open. Whatever happens will happen and he and I will work through it.

And what's with the title? I've been eating Pocky all night and I'm staring at my box of watercolors debating on whether or not to pack them. I think I will, for grins and giggles, along with my watercolor paper of course. There. That's decided. Now. Sleep. Perhaps I'll be able to post Friday. I doubt it so if not, happy weekend.

And it looks like I get another hour or two of sleep. Huzzah!