Stop this train...

I really must start blogging more. I want to write so much, but I don't make time, then when I do update, I only want to get out what's on my mind at the moment. Grr. So much to remember. This journal will be fun to look back on one day, though. I will post things of significance that I can remember off the top of my head:

Thursday night we had fondu, and let me tell you, that was a hoot and a half. Participants included T.J., Graham, O'Brian, Jeff, Jessica, Chris, and myself, as well as a special guest appearance by one Jonathan Dunlap. We had cheese dip as the main meal with bread and meat and about eight different veggies; then we washed the pot and put together a chocolate dip for our strawberries, bananas, nectarines, graham crackers, and marshmellows. That was one of the best nights ever, I think.

Friday after class, Jessica, Jeff, and I headed to Birmingham, where we saw Britni, Lance, Thomas, Karen, Joe, Jennifer, and Mark, as well as assorted other loverly people like Jessica and Tyler. I hope I didn't leave anyone out. THAT was a top night, ladies and gents... I don't think I'll ever tire of Captain Dickhead... it's so much fun! We also watched some Dane Cook and ate some candy and smoked more cigarettes than I have smoked in a LONG time... Lance is such a bad influence... ;)

We had to leave early Saturday because Jessica had work at 12, but we did that, no problem, and I spent a good bit of the day packing. Sunday morning I awoke and moved a lot of the big furniture outside for Dad and Graham to pick up, which they did, and then another load Monday evening. We should be outa there by now, but we're not. Tomorrow, though, definitely. I hope something at Hensley Square opens up soon. I hate I hate I hate that when I leave here tonight, though, I can't go to Bungalow 12 and have a snack and watch a movie and go to sleep. I miss it already, and we haven't even turned in the keys.

I've been a bit of an emotional wreck these last couple weeks; turns out the last two weeks have been awful all around, from what I hear... no one seems to have had an easy time of it. This, too, shall pass, right? It must.

I slept at Jeff's Monday night and he fixed us breakfast in the morning before work, and I haven't felt so special in a long time. Last night I slept at my parents', and that was nice. It really was. I love my family so much. Mom was asleep when I got in, but she came in the office at like 4 this morning and was like "Who is that?!" and I mumbled a sleepy "me" and she gave me the biggest hug ever and I almost woke up enough to cry, but instead I drifted back to sleep. It's recently come to my attention that perhaps Shareese can understand how I feel about her better than anyone, because I think you go through the same sort of thing with your family... it's like... all the negative is there and it's awful and it hurts, but the positive is there too, and these people are wonderful and beautiful and loved (I may be way off, but I was thinking about you today, and I came to that conclusion). I guess we're so used to positive and negative canceling each other that it's hard to deal with their co-existance. I love my mom more than I can possibly express. When something goes wrong (outside of family stuff) she is the first person I want to call and I can still throw myself into her arms when I really desparately need a hug. I think all this good is what makes the bad so difficult to deal with... I don't think I can deal with all the bad that is inside of me because of her anymore, but if could somehow find out whether letting her know would help me (and her) or just ruin what good there is, it would make things more difficult.

Enough rambling about that... in other news, Morgan turned 13 a couple days ago. Uncle Wade's birthday was last month, too, as was Aunt Dana's. He's been gone for almost three years now, I guess. When Graham and Dad came over Monday, we talked for probably an hour out beside his loaded truck; we talked about Mom and family and school and work and apartments and death. He told us about getting the call for Grand-Bob, and getting the call for Uncle Wade. He told us about calling his siblings, and worst of all calling Grandmomma and telling her. I have ached and ached for my grandmother, but I never had the visual before. I hate that... he was at the house on York Circle, and he had to call her and tell her to come over, and she must have known something was wrong from the very beginning, but driving up and seeing the house with two fire trucks and police cars there, and Dad in the driveway...

Ugh.

Sorry to be depressing, but with September gone, he's on my mind a lot. It's of some comfort to me that, as I type this, my eyes keep welling up, as they do whenever I think about him to much. I think that's a good thing.. I will be very sad if a day comes and I stop missing him, though I imagine that day will come, when the wound will be so covered in new memories, good and bad, and he will be thought of in passing with a twinge of regret, but he will no longer be mourned. I suppose that isn't a bad thing.

In closing, my dad is my hero, I have amazing friends, and my life is perfect-- you can't tell by all the fingerprints covering the class, but once those are wiped away, the perfection will once again be obvious.

And also, I'm not proof-reading... :)