I Just Got Told By a Five Year Old!

Believe it or not, my father and I inarguably share the gift of gab. Most usually, the "mother" persona is perceived as the maternal,house-hold figure whom tell their children stories and tuck them into bed. However, within the Alford residence, things ran much differently. Generally, during my childhood, my mother endured countless days filled with my sister and my trials and tribulations. Trust me....these "adventures" were numerous. Therefore, as a result of the aforementioned, my mother was usually the first to hit the sack. I was generally the only kid on the playground who's mom's "bedtime" was before mine. Unfortunatley, this lead to a false sense of superiority.
These, inevitable days of yore lead to my father's imminent role as "story-teller." My father was so amazing, so inspiring, so entertaining in telling a story....that he would literally let me REQUEST my own stories before bed. He operated similarly to a fast-food operation. I, at five years old, requested specific, fantastic literary elements. He, in turn, provided those (probably ridiculous) fictional themes into a satisfying night-time tale. On a side note, I will never forget the time my poor father unthinkably took a business trip; forcing mom into story-monger. As she naiveley reached for a book that night,I shouted, most offended at age 6: "NO MOM! The story needs to be about Kathy and her red SHOES!" As if she was an absolute fool for not knowing better.......
As I grew older, I learned that my father was also gifted in telling stories about his most favorite subject(s). My sister and I. Within one story...my father could effortlessly relay the personality of my sister or myself. Perhaps the one that sticks the most closely to my heart is one of his favorites, which undeniably expresses who I am.
The abovementioned story goes that my father would consistently visit my room on Saturday's to awaken me as a child. Each and every morning, I would enquire what we had on the agenda for that particular day. Usually, these lists would be lenghty and wrought with adventure (cuz y'know..my dad was the coolest), yet I was never satisfied. After each, spoken plan I would similarly respond: "Den what??!!" As if my life just might end if there was nothing more to do. My father once claimed he named TWENTY things, and that the response he met from me was still the same.
Currently, I still feel that this particular story summarizes who I am as a person. As I sit here on summer break....I honestly don't even know what to do with myself! As a 22 year old college student, I can honestly say that my life has been filled to the brim at certain instances. Usually, I complain about these times and consistently vent: "this is JUST too much." ALways, ALWAYS, ALWAYS!! I think that I would be so much better off if I just had time to get all my projects done, time for sleeping in, and perhaps a nice, relaxing bubble bath. However, as I get older, I think I'm starting to realize that I don't know what to do WITHOUT my life-calendar fairly full. Eerily, as a college student on break, I still wake up at what has previously been referred to as the "ass crack of dawn," and search for things to do on my days away from work. Today, alone, I folded laundry, marinated steaks for tonight,watched Cold-case, went Dollar Tree shopping, organized my Orlando Scrapbook, cleaned up the front rooms, prepared the guest bedding for good-will, and supplied new guest bedding. OH! And I found a few songs that I really enjoy on you-tube. I also considered buying a few books...then vetoed that in favor of renting them from UCF's library...then remembered the money I owed UCF"s library.....All in all, a fairly uneventful day.
Finally, an even scarier reaction occured to me as I sat watching a "Desperate Housewives" I must have already skimmed five thousand times. I'm actually, seriously, honestly, profusely ready to start back for summer classes. I cannot even believe that I finally wrote that sentence...but I really am ready!! Once examining the crux of UCF's database (with special thanks to my super-secret-op friend Mary ; ) I discovered that I had not only passed, but done fairly well in all my classes from Fall. I cannot tell you the amount of pride this brought about within myself without sounding cocky. Eventually, this pride lead me to the realization that I am more ready than ever to bust butt this summer and see if I can't graduate. Maybe it's just my determination speaking here...but I"m pretty sure its that inner-child Eliz cheering me on to the finish line, and consitently screaming "NOW WHAT??!!" as I lay on my sofa being lazy. I sort of feel like that empassioned child was missing when I attended community college...and I diserviced myself as a result. Now though, it sure is exciting to have that fire back in me. I feel, now, that I am a person that my dad can be proud of. But most importantly, I feel like a person little Elizabeth could have envisioned herself becoming...and thats the greatest acheivment of all.