What's this 'blogging' of which you speak?

Call me Joseph, because I haven't updated since the day I started classes back.  What an eventful four weeks it has been.  Well, not so much eventful as emotional.  There hasn't been a day I haven't missed Dad more than ever, and it all started on moving-in day.  He isn't here to possibly build me a loft (although I wouldn't want one in the setup Charity and I have got now, but it's the principle of the thing).  He's no longer here for me to text about a test grade.  I'm glad he got to experience some of my academic collegiate accomplishments with me, but I haven't felt grief and nostalgia and longing this profound in months.  The two-year 'anniversary' of his death is approaching, and is the day I've got my first paper of the year due.  That kind of sucks, but maybe it'll keep me busy…well, I can dream.

I'm thinking of taking piano lessons next semester.  The university offers intro classes for select instruments, and I think that's one.  I hope it fits, but it'd be nice to even take somewhere that costs, as long as it's not too much.  I miss playing piano.  I can still play my seventh-grade recital piece almost perfectly, but I've lost the skill of teaching myself and working on things successfully, and there are so many songs I want to learn.  So, I think piano lessons are in order.

This blog is kind of pointless, except to air my sadness out to the world.  It's still so hard to deal with.  Knowing I won't hear his boots on the wooden floors of our house, knowing I can never play basketball out in the backyard until our hands are brown from dirt and we can't see the goal because of the spotlight that shines just over the top of the goal…all this is so difficult to accept.  It feels so long that I've been without him, but it hasn't even been two years.

I had a dream in which I went to my psychologist (it's been forever in real life, too), and it was a very bad experience.  I saw someone who wasn't my psychologist but I thought she was her until I realized it, then the real she was angry with me and snappy and not at all understanding.  I know it was just a dream, but it set me back.  I usually don't have a problem with going to therapy, but maybe it tapped into some deep-set subconscious fear I have.  I don't know.

All right, I'm done.  Goodnight.