Everything is yucky.
Just yucky.
In case that wasn't clear enough, please allow me to expand, so you can grasp the full scale of the ickiness and appreciate as I surely don't. So! To sum up, these past few weeks have been nothing short of ridiculous, as Mom and Dad work through to their separation. Well, really, only Mom is working for it. Dad is still in denial, and he takes every opportunity to try and change all of our minds about getting involved. It's not our place to do this, both morally and HIPPAA-ly, and none of us are sure that we even want to get in the middle of the storm. But this is terribly hard to explain, because Dad is unused to not getting his way about everything. Both parents are using me as a therapist, which is charming in its own way, I suppose, but I'm sadly not very excited about it (and I'm continually growing less so). How many heart-to-heart conversations can someone have in one day? I'm certainly testing my limits on that one.
Today, Dad found out about my antidepressants, and shockingly didn't yell as much as I thought he would. He's still upset with me, though, I think. What can I say? I'd rather not feel suicidal all the time, if I can possibly help it, even if I have to sell out to the evil drug companies to do it. Think of it as me doing my part to aid the economy. Mom also told him about hers (and he took it okay as well). Now I have one less secret to keep. I like that a lot better, because I'd like to think I'm an honest person, and keeping secrets (well, secrets about me) feels uncomfortable. I'd rather be open about who I am and what I'm doing. But some things can't be said out in the open, especially in this family. I think there are some things that my parents will never ever know about me.
Mom has gotten me a job over the summer, and it's decent, because I get to work from home. But it's also not so great, because she keeps giving me stacks on stacks of work, and not money. I feel a bit like the Sisyphus of the academic world. It's not even fun stuff either, like I have to do data entry on about a million surveys, and apparently, I have to write an entire textbook from one of her coworker's lecture notes and Powerpoints and stuff. Well, okay, that part does sound fun, doesn't it. And I guess it might be, but it's about pharmacy, and call me a hedonistic humanities heathen, but that just doesn't seem very exciting. Now if someone wanted me to write about the linguistic habits of pharmacists, we'd be in business. Currently, I'm also volunteering at a week-long international conference for science teachers at the university. It's surprisingly not so bad. Aside from a 29-year-old from Georgia who may or may not have been trying to flirt with me and a completely inconveniently placed School of Public Health that I had to guide people to, everything is going smoothly. There's air conditioning and free wifi and lots of free pasta, and I get to sit in on the sessions, and people are very nice to me (some excessively so, but let's not worry about that). I hardly have to work so far, and it's all a very nice and easy way of boosting Mom's connections at the university (and maybe my own, though what they will be good for is beyond me). Even so, I'll be happy when the week is over and I can go back to my ignominious life at home.
Beep is texting me now, and I'm not sure why. These boys are really persistent, aren't they? I'm honestly not even sure why. Maybe they like linguistics puns, or maybe they're just entranced by my freckles. Either way, though, they keep on coming, and they don't stop. These are probably my peak days, and in twenty years I'll be bereft of all romantic possibility. But I can't say I really mind that. There are sentences to be diagrammed, and codes to be written, and life stops for no man. These are the days to collect the stories that I can tell to the children that I won't have, and when I can no longer gather rosebuds, I'll content myself with the memories of time before it went a-flying. Hopefully, I'll be as content with that then as I am now.
I'm still not sure what to do about Beep, though.
Talia has gone off to a summer music festival for three weeks (under extreme duress, may I add), and Xander has gone with her to be an RA. It's very quiet without them practicing scales and vibrato exercises at all hours of the night, and now there's no one to rant to about Les Misérables (which I read in five days, thank you very much). But I guess it's good for them to be out of the house, and I am happy that they're doing something with their summer. Maybe they can make friends with some rich people who will take us all out to dinner or something. Can you believe it's already the middle of July? Time flies, doesn't it. Well, it does and it doesn't. But I'm pretty sure this will be the first year when I won't dread going back to school.
It's 1:16 AM, and I should probably be getting off to bed so I can make a nice early start for the conference tomorrow. But first, I think I'll read some cute Les Mis fan fiction, because you know that's how we do it here. Some of it is so good that I'd almost say it has literary merit. Anyway, have a lovely night! Vive le France!