The semester is coming to an end. Aside from exams, you'd think that would be a relief. My life remains complicated and out of whack no matter the season. Thanks to my slacker advisor and top secret registrar's office, I missed early registration. Thus I can't register for Spring until January 7th. I have to go to traffic court on the 15th. I'm seriously considering paying the ticket. The court date and time is right in the middle of an exam which just adds more conflicting madness. If I could pay off my professor instead, believe me I'd do it. My exams really aren't going to be hard. It's just once again a combination of all kinds of things. I'm still not happy with where my life is right now. I don't feel like I'm walking around with a crappy attitude all the time. Actually it'd been several weeks since I had an "I hate ASU" session. My emotions, or should i say, serotonin levels, are a different story. I've taken anti-depressants for over a year now. They haven't failed me yet...until now. I can't stop eating. I realize it's not the most glorious thing to post on the web for all to see, but if you saw my waist and how it expanded you would know anyway. In high school, Christmas of freshman year, I saw a picture of myself and had a life changing epiphany. I saw I was fat and did something about it. I've kept it off ever since. I'm finding it where I left it now. In midnight cookies and extra helpings. For some reason, apparently a biological one, I see food as a comfort. Food doesn't reject me and it always fits, not too mention tastes good. Oh my Lord, I'm becoming my mother! Worse still, I just got switched from Lexapro to Prozac. I am now the ultimate psychological cliche.
Adding to that is the season of Christmas. Only the second without my dad. My mom has taken a turn for the best. She seems to truly be accepting the concept of moving on. The problem is that her idea of moving on directly conflicts with my idea of remembering. I stood in the kitchen tonight getting something to drink. I looked at the white Christmas tree with blue ornaments, the new couch, the empty left side of the carport. I thought about the bookshelf now in place of my dad's desk and I thought "it's like he was never here". Nothing is the same as it was 15 months ago. I'm not the same and I never will be. I've always thought of a house as a permanent physical structure that only changes every fifty years. Suddenly this is not the house I grew up in. The last place I saw Daddy alive was on the end of the couch. He always sat there watching tv and dozing off at night. Before I went to bed I told him goodnight. The couch he was sitting on isn't there anymore. It's in my apartment, yes, but it's not "where he left it".
Wow. I sound ridiculously pathetic. But wait! There's more. I like a guy who is most likely severely wrong for me at best and sees me as a sister at worst. Maybe not. Maybe I imagine these things. I can honestly say that I have reached the age of commitment. I'm craving "the one" and all that comes with him. The support. The love. The affection. The house. The dog and 2.5 children... I'm only twenty years old, but I'm a junior in college. What happens after that? What if I'm in the same spot I am now? I don't know. I don't understand why God couldn't send him last year. In the moments when I was truly more alone than I've ever been. Why not let him be there to help me through. Sometimes I think maybe he was, but that's a whole other blog.
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