The luck of the Irish

Today I had a big talk with my dad about my life, and what exactly I plan to do with it. Well, I still don't have any idea, but my dad is (and this is not biased at all) the most brilliant man on earth. Well, maybe not, but he's definitely the smartest person I know, as well as the loving man who did his part to create me and provide for me financially and emotionally for the past 23 years. I have to say I could not ask for better parents.

Upon a discussion with my mom this past Sunday, I realized my life was going somewhere that I couldn't predict, and I didn't like that at all. I had no idea what to do with the rest of my life, so I went to Sky's and sobbed in his arms. Once he had calmed me down, he helped me realize that my life can be whatever I want it to be, whether it be editor, writer, hairstylist, aerobics instructor, or even a frigging zookeeper.

My dad and I talked about many things today, but the thing that most stood out to me is to live each day deliberately. I can't just aimlessly drift along, blandly accepting or rejecting whatever comes my way. So, I plan on living each day on purpose and not just plodding along.

And back to sobbing...how lucky am I to have someone's arms to sob into? It's not just that he's there, it's that he loves me. I'm sure he just comes off as this constant tall blob of jokes and farts, but he's the sweetest man ever. He never fails to notice when something is bothering me. When I sit next to him, he pulls my chair as close to his as is physically possible. If I sit across the room, he pats the spot next to him and scoots me close. He always calls after work to tell me how his day went, and calls me every day to say goodnight. He's there, always, proving day after day that he loves me. He's not some gallant romantic, sending me flowers or arranging candle-lit dinners, but every day is a day that I know he loves me and would do absolutely anything for me. Every day I count my blessings because I have him.