Tuesday, December 21, 2004


In two weeks, I'll be leaving my home in Arizona and moving into the frigid Northern clime of South Bend, Indiana. Of course, between then and now I have to plan as much of my wedding as humanly possible, pack up my entire life into boxes (again), spend as much time as I can with my siblings and parents, and celebrate the holidays in style.

I'm stressed out.

I feel like plunking down on the floor and having a good solid cry. Then, after my face is all red and blotchy and gross, I could indulge in a stack of my mom's decadant Christmas cookies before getting depressed about my woefully large waistline as of late. At which point, I would naturally have to sit down and cry again.

My mind is stuck in a thousand little cycles like this right now and it's frustrating. Instead of heading in one solid direction with focus and determination, my ambitions are scattered like one of Gallagher's watermellons. I suppose part of vacation is supposed to be about letting your direction ebb and flow as it so chooses, but ugh! My direction is choosing a dumb route.

I feel stuck. Maybe this is a piece of the calm before a tornada runs through my life and settles me in a dying Northern hamlet. Man. I sincerely hope that South Bend turns out better than I'm currently picturing it. Somehow, in my unflinching optimism, I can see myself getting a job that entails asking the ever-so-important question: "would you like fries with that?"

Mmmmm. French fries.