Last Friday we moved into our new apartment. It's lovely. The views of the city are so nice, that for a moment I forget that I live in Oklahoma City. I'm not completely moved in though. Half of my clothes, none of my shoes, nothing but furniture and some kitchen items for now. Not even my dog. We spent Friday and Saturday painting the apartment. Just a touch here and there. A red wall in the living room, some stripes in the bedroom. It was a bit of a fiasco because he decided he didn't like the green we picked out for the stripes. We spent Tuesday night repainting the stripes "black currant" - a purply brown. The biggest ordeal of all was going to IKEA on Sunday. I love IKEA. I could live in IKEA. But going to IKEA is oh so bittersweet. You get there all pumped with a plan, but then you go in and it is endless. By the time I get downstairs for the real shopping, I'm exhausted, I don't care anymore, I just want to leave. But when you get downstairs you're barely half way and it keeps going. We left with a bed, dresser, entertainment unit, and some random kitchen accessories. Not nearly everything we wanted, but that's okay. We'll be back. The thing about moving is how much you end up leaving behind. The hardest thing for me right now is riding the line of acceptability with my parents about this whole thing. I get married next month and I'm moving in...prematurely in my parent's eyes. My parents are of the mindset that one does not live with a boy...not even the boy you are engaged to. Although, they have taken it fairly well there is a comment here and there that makes me feel somewhat uncomfortable about the situation. Like I should keep it a secret that I will soon be living here permanently. It may seem odd, but my parents are Vietnamese. To them this is the problem with kids growing up in America. Too much independence, and not enough respect for family and traditional values. I respect them. I even believe it is important to uphold the traditions from the old country. Because if I don't, how will there be any connection with our relatives in Vietnam. It would be disrespectful beyond measure. But I'm also a 27 year old attorney who has never truly lived on her own. Sure, there were those four years in college, but I brought my laundry home on the weekends and they paid for my living expenses...so that doesn't really count. Now is the time that embark on something just for me.
