So, I've been home a little over 48 hours now, and it does feel quite weird. It's Thanksgiving... it's a break from college! I'm not complaining, but I just feel odd.

Let me start with my mother coming to pick me up in Albion on November 22, 2001. She came, and I was expecting to see a vision of home. I expected beauty. I expected hugs and kisses (though we have never been the hug & kiss type). I expected uncontrollable hugs and kisses! Instead I saw her, and I wanted to cry. We were friends when I left. We are friends on-line... I am a controlling, evil friend. I force my opinions and beliefs on others with my big, opinionated mouth. When I left in August, I had shaped my mother to believe the same way I did. But she is her own person now. Why did that make me sad? No, I wasn't sad. I was judgmental. I saw her embroidered pin with a mock flag and the letters U.S.A. Where did this patriotism come from? (Later I found out that the entire Quad Cities has become very patriotic.) It's fed to us like brain candy. It's in so many advertisements... it's sickening. "United we stand... go buy a car." September 11th suddenly feels so exploited. I know it's a touchy subject with her.

"Did you know we blew up a Red Cross?" I asked.

"Yeah. Wasn't that a while ago though?..." As if time makes a difference.

But I do love my country. I have no answers. If nothing else, maybe this "new kind of war" and all of the patriotism it possesses will thrust us into a much-needed age of innocence. Maybe we will realize what really matters. Probably not though. I just saw someone on the news saying how "out of the sake of our country" we should buy big-budget items for Christmas... entertainment systems, cars, furniture, and so on. I would like to believe that I don't like the pin for this reason—lack of patriotism. Really... I don't know. I think I'm just a snob. I think I just didn't like it because it was tacky, ugly, and expected. It was probably given to her by that boyfriend I hate or one of her American Legion buddies that spend every weekend drinking beer. I am a snob.

I came home to our ridiculously rundown house. I wonder if any of my friends would guess my former living conditions. I mean really... I go to Albion College. I must be wealthy. Almost everyone else is. A girl on the swim team is going to California for Christmas on her father's private jet. Ah, but this doesn't bother me. When people at school mock "trailer trash" I point out their stereotypes. "I used to live in a trailer..."

"Oh," they say quietly. The truth is that I would give up anything to go back to those days. I loved the trailer. I loved life in the trailer. I finally appreciate this rundown house. I expected to feel comfortably at home when I left. But I walked in this place, and it was dead cold. It just didn't feel right. I didn't feel welcome. My cat just looked at me. My room was turned into a storage area. I felt unwanted. My dog did get excited though. I petted her until she went into a pleasant coma, and then I slept as close to her as possible. I stole her heat.

Flash-forward to November 21, 2001 and swim practice... boy I felt odd there too. It was so strange to see my old high school friends. Granted, I was never that close to any of them, but it was still overwhelming to see how uninteresting my presence was. The coach that never cared asked how my times were, and he seemed shocked to know how well I swam the 1000yard freestyle. I probably could have swum well in high school, but I lacked the motivation. Oh well. I have it now... or at least something close to motivation. Brianna hugged me like a bear, and we made tentative plans to hang out. I saw Joel, and he seemed shocked to see me. We shook hands, and we both pretended like it meant nothing. I pretended like he never met anything to me, and he pretended like... I don't know. I once meant something to him, and now I don't. That's it. A few other girls said their hellos, but everyone else ignored me. Well, everyone except Brian. I always liked Brian. He asked how the writing was going. Hah!

"What writing?" I asked.

"Didn't you win some contest?"

"Yeah, but it was nothing," I replied, and he gave me that look that says stop trying to be modest... "I'm not doing the writing thing. I'm doing Biology." And that was that. We all swam, and it felt good.

Later I went bowling with a bunch of people that pretend to like my face. Really they only like my sarcastic mouth. Really they only invite me out to have a laugh. I have always been the funny, fat one. Oh well. I like my title. I just wasn't in the mood to be with the people I was with. I smiled. I cracked jokes. But really, I was thinking, "You people don't matter. You are not who I want to be with." I wanted to be with him... the one that temporarily ended my bulimia. I wanted to be with him... the one that once called me "pretty". I wanted to be with him... the one that gave me faith without forcing me to believe in God. I wanted to be with Dave... the one I will always think of as a Howard Roark. Dave is really the opposite of perfection when I think about my attraction logically, but I love him. My heart thinks of him as perfect... On the way home, we listened to Travis, and the sweet music made my tears run silently all by themselves. I don't think anyone realized I was crying.

And today... today was Thanksgiving. We ate pizza and watched movies. I bought Run Lola Run... finally. I longed to call Dave, but I didn't. I couldn't confuse him like that. He's in love with another anyway. He is in love with someone that is perfect for him. Makes sense. He never liked me in the way that I adored him. He only like me enough to say, "I like you... a lot." What good did that do? He just wanted some returned affection... he wanted it in the open. He always knew that I liked him. He wanted me to tell him. He wanted to own my words. And then I left for college, and he forgot about me.

I am just thankful that he exists. I am thankful because he saved my teeth and esophagus. I am thankful for my mother. She refused to buy the expensive, brand names when I was desperate to fit in... and in the process, I became myself. She has given up everything to give me an education. I feel unworthy of all of this. It makes me sad to know that I have so much and deserve so little. Yes, I worked my ass off to get my grades, but let's remember that I am a fucking snob. Two days ago I was judging my mother for being herself and wearing a tacky pin. A year ago I started forcing my bias opinions onto everyone. THINK LIKE ME. This needs to stop. I'm such a selfish bitch sometimes. I'm fitting into that rich college student stereotype, and I hate it. When did I get so full of myself? This has to stop. New Years resolutions will be here in no time... Maybe I'll chuck the diet plans that never succeed and change the entirety of myself instead.