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I'm here. And home is there.

Did you know my dorm was originally designed to be cells for monks? I opened the door, and my dad, who's somewhat claustrophobic, laughed nervously. Took me several minutes to convince him I'm happy with this arrangement. I chose this place because it's the only place you can get a room to yourself (save the graduates' dorm that literally costs twice as much) and I've decided I need that for a bit.

Poor Dad, hiking my heavy crap up four flights of stairs. There are times I want to be the femiNazi and insist on equal treatment, but carrying a stereo, television, refrigerator, and microwave up to the fourth floor of a monk-building sure as hell ain't one of those times. I'll let Daddy get those, thank you. Gimme the suitcases and little boxes.

The wedding is counting down toward us. Mylord. Six days. Amy and I are having an intensive practice session tomorrow, she at the piano, me leaning over it singing my little lungs out. After this I never want to hear another version of Ave Maria again. Not Gounod, not even Biebl. Well, maybe Biebl. Definitely not Schubert. ::thwaps Schubert::

Let me take this time to mention, there is a distinct difference between a thwap and a thonk, in my little world of onomatopoeia. A thonk is for stupid, stupid people. People like nineteen year old bartenders who think they're the shiz. (See previous entry) A thwap, however, is for temporary annoyance with someone who is usually worthwhile.

I really love Schubert, and he knows that, right Shoobie? But his Ave Maria should die.

Anyway. I had a point in here somewhere. Lemme go look for it.

Oh yeah! Dad. Me. Two hundred miles in a very, very packed (but otherwise empty) car. I worried it would be three hours plus of silence, since he and I seem to be conversationally impaired when alone together.

It wasn't. We didn't paint each other's toenails or anything, but between going over the depressing details of the wreck last month ($3,300 estimate, can you believe that? Imagine if all four corners had been messed up, and not just one), and him ranting about my sister's irritating boyfriends of the past (I'm unsure whether this meant to be a hint or a tutorial, but prospective boyfriends, promise me you'll shake his damn hand and be respectful but not intimidated around him, k?), we somewhere got on the topic of how he believes that all four of us (the kids) are going to be All Right.

Matt's the socialite, the one Dad worried might marry a rich girl with snobby parents, the one who never dated too seriously in high school, the one who takes an hour in the bathroom. Now he's found Becca, and she's so flawless and perfect for him it's scary, and her parents are neat little ex-hippies who have treated me to lunch a couple times, since we're in the same town.

Claire's the rebel, the one that really frustrated him in times past. I used to envy her so much, because she always had boyfriends. She had lots of friends, and Dad didn't like her "crowd." (My dad is somewhat uptight in that way, don't be thinking he's all saintly or anything.) She was the one climbing in windows after two in the morning, smoking pot in her room (and actually convincing Mom it was incense, ha), having the stereotypical teenage party life, and scaring the living daylights out of my mother. After her freshman year in college she decided she wasn't going back, moved in with her boyfriend, and got a full-time job. My mom almost died, my dad struggled to be okay with it, I applauded her nerve. Now she's back in school, working part-time, no longer living with the guy (though still seeing him off and on) and Dad honestly believes she's going to be all right. I knew that long before he did, but bully for him.

Then there's me. I dunno, he's more elusive about me, simply because I'm in the car with him. But when I grinned and mentioned that Brian would be the most "all right" of the four of us, Dad actually said he thought Brian and I were about on a par. And that really surprised me, since I was always the "lazy" one, who didn't go that extra inch, who wasted time on poetry instead of homework, blah blah blah. It was nice to hear this new information from him.

Just to be fair, let's cover Brian too. If you know tons about him already (he's my favorite and I talk about him a lot, I've noticed), feel free to skip this paragraph. He's my baby brother, four years younger. I miss him more than anyone else when I'm at school. He and I have had an almost abnormally good relationship through the years, considering our distance in years and such. He's a straight-A kid, enough that you want to thwap him (see above, remember, only temporary...), he paints, he writes poetry, plays a smidge of guitar (he'll deny it 'cause he quit after a while, and he's embarrassed), plays offensive tackle for the varsity football team, and reads faster than I do, which is almost annoying. He's surprisingly insecure, and if he has any flaw it's that he wants to make people around him happy a bit too much, to the point that he can get exhausted trying. Darn perfect boy. I love him to death.

Anyway. So the guy I'm most afraid of (see a previous entry, I'm too lazy to link it) thinks I'm doing okay so far. This is happy-making.

Dang, this was a long entry just to say that.

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