Movement.

I've been a sort of...miserable person lately. I'm getting really frustrated about a lot of things, and I may not be showing it when I have to be around people, but I'm just...annoyed. Really annoyed.

I'm not gonna lie; I've felt pretty much invisible to, well, just about everyone lately. I feel like I haven't really talked to anyone who wasn't my mother or a coworker in a long time, and I wonder if anyone misses me. This is probably my paranoia talking, because that happens fairly often, and I do go through this on occasion. But there's so much going on in my life, and I'm having this moment where...I haven't really said anything, because I don't think anyone cares about it. I'll try to let it out at work, but they really don't care, and that makes the whole thing even worse.

Usually there's some blame to be placed on me when this happens, because I won't say I've never isolated myself before. But I only do it as a defense mechanism. I can't be disappointed if I don't put myself out there.

Anyway.

My biggest issue right now? The moving out thing. After losing one place, I got back on the horse and started looking again. There isn't too much around here in my price range, so I've been relying mainly on individually-owned properties on CraigsList, since they're more likely to be on the less expensive side. I found a couple places I wanted to take a look at, and I told my mother about them. That was the first mistake. Without seeing any of them, she found something wrong. Instantly.

The first place was an efficiency, about a half hour from here and fifteen minutes from work. $625, all utilities included. The second place was a one bedroom, fifteen minutes from here and a half hour from work. $575 plus utilities. Before seeing either, her reaction was, "I'd rather see you live in the first one." Because of the location. Okay, great. Opinion noted. But I was still going to look at them.

I brought her with me to see it the first place. It was in an old Victorian house, divided into seven apartments, in a decent area. We walked in and it was...way too small. I would have had to put my bed in the kitchen. It was the kind of place someone would go if they absolutely needed a place to stay. It's a roof over one's head; not exactly meant to be "home," if you know what I mean. We talked about it after, and while I agreed that it wasn't for me, my mother couldn't leave it at that. "That was gross. I can't believe you went to see that." No...it's just not for me. It wasn't dirty or anything like that. It simply wasn't what I was looking for. But I need to see it to know. There's absolutely nothing wrong with shopping around. And let's remember... Before laying eyes on it, she wanted me to live there.

I went by myself to see the second place. It's in a house with four apartments, in a residential neighborhood, but also sort of in the woods. The layout of the location is a little strange (dead end dirt road and such), but I really liked it. The size was right, the landlady seemed cool, and I liked the idea of living in the same building with some people, but not dozens. I came home and told my mother about it, and her reaction was, "That's too far away. Have you thought about how you'll get to work when it snows?" (In my car, I'm guessing...) She was in the area today and drove by to check it out. Her response was a lovely passive-aggressive, "Yeah, it's...interesting."

This morning, she set up an appointment to see a place that's literally two minutes from our house. It's an in-law type apartment, owned by a woman in her 90s. It was tiny. And it came furnished, but all the furniture was from the 70s. It reminded me of a hotel rather than somewhere I'd choose to live. When I told her I didn't like it, she looked disappointed.

She's also trying to get me to commit to moving to the complex her boss owns, also two minutes down the road. The place really isn't bad, but I'd be waiting for a vacancy (for who knows how long), and it's electric heat, which can get really expensive and push it well out of my price range. Tonight, my mother says, "Well, if it comes to that, I'll help you with the heating bill."

NO. HELL TO THE MOTHERFUCKING NO. The point of moving out is to not have anyone's help. And if I'm going to move out, I'm going to move out of this town. I'm paying rent to live here, but why pay three times as much to live down the street? I might as well just stay where I am. And that's not what I want.

I like the second place. I filled out the rental application and I'm meeting with the landlady again on Tuesday. She's had other interest, and I may not be the candidate of choice. But I think I'd be happy there. This is not my mother's decision to make, and I'm well aware that whatever I choose, it won't be good enough for her.

I don't know why she won't just say she doesn't want me to leave. That doesn't mean I'm going to change my mind. But I'd rather she be honest.

This is all very stressful. Needlessly so, in my opinion. I'm supposed to be happy about this, but I'm too busy trying to justify my decisions to someone who insists, when prompted, that they don't care, but continues to nitpick every little detail...

Yeah. So that's what I'm going through. I guess...we'll see.