Day 102.

It is currently 3:24 central time and I am sitting at the office where I just impersonated my boss/mother for the past hour trying to fix a stupid billing with Century Link's customer service. I swear I have to call them once a month, which I guess isn't very often, but it is terribly annoying. Technically I should still be on the clock though I intended to leave the office at 3. The phone call went over my three o'clock limit of being in the office until I just decided that they didn't know what they were talking about and I wanted some down time before I had to go to work at the Tin Top. Hence, I decided I would call customer service back tomorrow with the direct number I was mercifully given. A good friend of mine, I lived with her for a week not knowing her before hand and decided we would be friends for life, said that you are what you need in the world. On a smaller scale maybe that is why I blog so much. Maybe I need to see others having the same raw, unfiltered, stream of conscious thought that so often ends up appropriately or inappropriately on this blog or my other one. I admit I try to save the appropriate content for this public one and hide everything else in my other...  This thought comes because I so enjoy reading other's blogs about random stuff that they feel like talking about. Take Pi Crust for example, I read his blog every time he posts and I would feel like a stalker about it except for the fact that he knows I read it. It makes me feel more sane to read someone else's blog about their thoughts and life and to hear that i am not the only person who finds relief in writing, relief in sharing one's thoughts with the world, with whomever cares to listen, errr read, I mean. I know it is rather early in the evening to be writing, but I have to go to work tonight and I just don't want to have to write afterward when I feel gross and my finger nails are covered in a unique mixture that I would attempt to describe to you but I don't want you to throw up.

My professors have always told me I am horrible at writing transitions and I should use this outlet to practice them; however, today I have been inspired to deprive any readers of a smooth and luxurious transition and just throwing a writing brick to your face. I hope your nose didn't break.

While I was driving to the respectable job this morning I heard an artist talk about a song they had written for their father as a Father's Day gift and why they had written it. Listening to the artist and her lyrics made me reflect my most interesting childhood and the father figures I had, what they provided me with, and what I felt/feel for them. For various reasons I feel like I only had one (out of a lot of men) father figure that many others don't believe exists. Yes, I'm talking about God being a literal father to me while I was growing up. Currently and for the past years I have been extremely close to my dad, well former step-dad. but my dad for all intents and purposes. He is my favorite person to live with, to talk about boys with, and to get advice from. He is the one that I rely on the most, which thinking about it may be weird thinking about how close I am with my mom. But it's true, I rely on my dad more and partly because now there are things I try to protect my mom from and I need my dad to lean on. When I was younger I don't think I was as close with my dad though. for various reasons too like John being n my life and my dad working all the time and the fights that were always going on in my family. So than my father figure was really the ultimate father and we cultivated what I think was kind of a weird, but, never the less, a close relationship. Feel free to think I'm crazy--I think I am. So I guess this morning I was overcome with a thankfulness for my two fathers and the peculiarity of the way I was raised and the possession of such a close relationship with an earthly dad now. it has been such a blessing these past few years. I think he knows he will always be my daddy and that I will probably ask him to tuck me into bed until I get married. I'm a very fortunate girl.

Now for dinner and work. Yay for being a busser. Remind me to discuss the issue of my pride associated with this job. I've told myself I cannot quit until I either get over it or go back to school.