One step at a time.

My mother had surgery today. She's almost 60, so I was a little anxious about her going to get her procedure done. She woke me up at 530 this morning telling me that my father, who is home until Sunday, and her were leaving. She seemed in good spirits, and since it was almost 6am I didn't really think much of it until I heard the car pull out of the drive way.

I remember thinking all of these horrible thoughts, because that's who I am, always looking on the dark side of things, and I actually started crying. I cried myself back to sleep and woke up at 840, and I had class at 905. Of course I was late to class because I had slept through my alarm, but my professor is nice and understanding, and he patted my back and smiled at me.

Yes, she's fine. When my father called me around 1 this afternoon he sounded tired, but the surgery went picture perfect and she was in recovery. I went back to my lunch table, and I wanted to cry with joy. I know I wrote an entry about my father, but my mother, well, she's my mom...

Anyways, my father told me that he would call me when she got settled into her room, which was at the start of my 4pm philosophy class. I told my teacher I was expecting a call and how my mother had had surgery and she gave me the okay to walk out of the room when the call came in. I fucking love how understanding my professors are. So my father said she was recovering well, and my eyes began to swell up again after I hung up. I walked back into class, sat down smiling, and Christine looked over at me and gave me smile back because she knew.

At dinner, I called my sister, who picked me up from my school and myself, her, and her two-year-old all went to visit my mother. When I saw my mother I almost started to cry. I don't think I've ever been so happy before to see my mother, I gotta be honest about that. So I told her about my day and how awesome school is going this semester (which I will touch on later) and she kept smiling at me.

When I went back to school, I called Kim where she let me into her dorm where I laid on her bed while she read at her desk. I had my iPod pulled into my ears, and I started to cry silently. I don't think I've said this, but these past few weeks have been one hell of an emotional rollercoaster ride. I started dosing off, until Kim and I went to go take part of the movie English club was putting on that night. I didn't stay long, because I had one hell of a day and I really needed to relax. But tonight, on the ride home while I was speeding past cars on the expressway, I was listening to the radio and I felt relieved.

I know things aren't as great as they could be, but goddammit I can practically smell the Boston air in my nostrils. School is going amazing so far this semester. I'm becoming a very active member of the English club, cause, well, it's my major and it's about damn time I joined a club! I also am looking forward to doing the Vagina Monologues again at my school. I bought the 2008 edition of the book to get a feel of the monologues, even though I was in them last year. I was the sad side of the monologue "My Vagina Was My Village" which was amazing. All of the girls were amazing and I look forward to working with the ones that do it again. I've already got two monologues picked out I'd like to possibly perform, but it's a secret and I have no clue if I'll get one of them haha.

I say the Boston air because I think I have a top pick for graduate school. Emerson College looks very promising. Since we know I'm an English major, I know exactly what I want to do with my degree. I want to go into Publishing and Writing. Of course I like to write, I mean holy crap I write better then I talk most of the time, and I remember when I was transferring from my community college to a 4-year everyone kept asking me, "What the hell are you going to do with an English degree with a concentration in writing?" Well, there's your answer. Betch.

I look back at all the professors that have told me how my writings are different, and have praised my writings, and have encouraged me to get into writing because I have talent in that area. Not just writing, but in editing. C'mon, I'm a grammar nerd. When someone sends me an email and there are no periods, semi-colons, or commas in it at all, I don't even read it. You seriously just sent a senior English major that piece of shit? Okay, send it back to me when you learn how to type properly.

I know I could never be a teacher, or a professor. I was looking over Kim's shoulder tonight, and looking all the stuff she has to learn about different exercises and methods and this and that... ugh. I also have my father's patience level, which is very... miniscule.

OH! This brings me to another reason why my professors are awesome.

A professor I had last semester for creative writing is an amazing lady. She's a published author, but a majority of the professors at my college are published (which drives me furthur to get published in more literary magazines). I was helping out with English club last night. A group of British actors from Cambridge, UK called CAST came to our college during their tour to perform Henry V. While we were setting up, this professor approached me and started asking about my grandfather, who was not doing well at the end of last semester. I ended up missing a few of her classes to be by his side and to help my grandmother out. I told her that he was doing better, but he is wheelchair ridden now. I also told her about my sister's car accident over the summer where she totaled her car with my nephew in the car. I told her how I saw her get unloaded from the ambulance (which hit me really hard) and how I stayed with her, drove her home, helped her out until she was okay on her own. I called off work for her too, I remember that. And then I told my professor how my mother was getting surgery today, and how I was nervous and this and that. She looked at me, and started telling me how I was one of the most caring people she knows. "It's a very good quality to posess, and you have it." I didn' t know what to say, so I bowed my head and thanked her. She went on though, briefly, and I explained to her how, at first, I wanted to become a nurse, since I like helping people. She smiled and said, "you went from a nursing major to an English major?" We laughed, and I replied that, "I found my nitch." I had no clue that something I found to be therapeutic would acutally get me somewhere in life... hopefully...

I mean, I love physiology. Anatomy is what got me. Memorizing all those bones, yea, not gonna happen. In my prime, I could describe how the respiratory system works flawlessy. I could also, in my prime, tap dance like a freakin Rockett. Ah, the good ol' days.

Now I'm an English nerd, who actually is enjoying reading Robinson Crusoe for one of my classes and is reading Pride and Prejudice for another. It's like 19th century chick lit and I'm a sucker for chick lit.

Oh, and get this, my minor is philosophy. Yeah, I have no clue what I'm going to do with that either. Just thought I'd throw that out there.

I titled this entry "One Step At a Time" because, yes, of that dumb Jordin Sparks song that gets stuck in my head every time I hear it, but mostly because I agree. It all takes one step at a time. No, I'm not posting lyrics. Sorry. I'm too tired to post them.

Speaking of tired, I think I'm going to retire for the night. I think this entry is long enough, and it makes up for me not writing in a while. I'm a busy girl with school, work, babysitting, and trying to enjoy my college years before I hit the real world.

Ciao!

Daddy's girl.

My father is coming home today. I'm extremely excited about this because I have not seen him in 3 weeks.

No, my parents are not divorced. My father lost his job around christmas time last year, and the only job he could find was in New Hampshire. So he moved there around June. Since my sister lives on her own with her child, my mother and I are to fend for ourselves in the house that I grew up in. I hafta admit, it's been hard because my mother and I have never seen eye to eye on certain things, but over these past months she's been more understanding then she ever has been towards me. Her only beef with me is that she doesn't like it when I don't come home at night because she doesn't like to be alone in the house by herself, so I usaully try to be home at a reasonable time.

Whenever she gets too overwhelming for me, I'll call my father up and he'll calm me down and give me some suggestions as to what to do. Like one thing is that my mother thinks she can do everything around the house by herself. I'll offer to help, but she'll shoo me away and it gets very frustrating when I see her overwhelmed with the amount of work she has to do and she won't let me help.

We're going to get the upstairs bathroom re-done soon, so my mother can sell the house in the spring and move in with my father. Everyone looks at me and asks, "where are you going to live?" Well, the answer is that I'll get an apartment for the last semester of my undergraduate studies. I'm planning on moving out of state when I graduate since there is pretty much nothing left for me around here. Of course I'll miss my family and friends, but I'm so sick and tired of living around here. I've lived here my whole life, and my job, if I still have it, gives me the opportunity to just about move anywhere there's a store.

Back to my father, the whole reason why I started writing this entry, is the fact that where my mother leaves off he takes over. When I was learning how to drive, my mother would freak out every time I would go too fast, or make a turn a little too sharp, but my father, when he would take me out, would just comment on it.

My father is probably my favorite person in my life. He supports me in everything I do. He actually will sit down and talk to me about my future, and the possible schools I want to get into. He'll talk to me and actually want to know how I'm going to get the goals that I have set. My mother, I know for a fact, pretty much laughs at me at points. My father will make sure that I know that "I'm very proud of you," because I think he knows more than I know that I'm going to mount to something.

Here's a funny story. It was around 1:30 in the morning, and I was just coming back from a bar and going over to Bryan's house. I was starting to feel the drinks I had that night, and as Bryan and I start talking in my car, my cell phone starts vibrating. I look at the screen, and it says "Home" is calling me. So I answer it, and it's my father. He begins yelling at me and wondering why I'm not home yet. I tell him, "because I told you I'd be home around 2." He starts going off on me because he's afarid that I'll make mother worry and some shit like that. I mean, I hafta give him credit, he was leaving a few days from that night, so I start crying because, well, I'm tipsy as all hell, and he goes on for about 15 minutes. Bryan, who is sitting patiently sitting next to me, is dying to hold me and comfort me, but can't because of the arm rest in the way. After my dad is done yelling at me, I say to him, "ya know, all the yelling you just did to me... I could be home by now."

The next day, I'm up and about, and my father has to go to the store for some last minute items. So he asks if I would like to come with him. I agree, and grab my purse and he hands me the keys. Now, mind you, my father just bought a new Audi A4. His way of making up his last night tantrum is by letting me drive his Audi to the store. Pure awesome.

Now that I'm done being sidetracked, he knows I'm going to mount to something because of how strong I am. I'm not looking to get married, or looking to have a child anytime soon, I'm looking to let myself grow, and maybe along the way if I find someone like that again then I'll actually think about it. After you're engaged once, you look at things a little differently. Or, at least, I do.

Every girl needs her father, and I just so happen to be one of those girls.

Look at what we have here.

Hey, what can I say, I finally have one of these.

Basically, I'm a writer who has a lot to say. I'm sick and tired of having all of these writings loaded up onto my computer and not having the guts to actually share them with anybody. Every time I do share them though people enjoy them. Even if their dark, or on the lighter side, people think their good.

I hope to someday become published into some bigger named magazines. I have already been published in my school's literary magazine.

I'm currently an English major, and am hoping to get into grad school to concentrate more intensively on the writing, composition, and rhetoric of English. I'd like to go into publishing or editing. As much as I would love to write as a full time career... well, let's see how things go.

I named this "the rantings of a 20something year old bitch" because it's pretty much true. My rantings and writings may seem to be a bit bitchy at times. It's not by choice that I'm bitchy though.

I feel oddly content with this. A smile has crept across my face, along with the constant sniffling that I seem to be doing. Gotta love hay fever.

I feel like I should say more, but won't. Porcupine Tree's "Synesthesia" is putting me in a mood of slumber.

Yeah... I'll write more later.