Guess What?

So I am pretty uncomfortable writing about this, but I think it's worth sharing so try not to judge me too hard. I had another encounter with Sesame Chicken the other day. And my father. And my brother. Go figure...
I spent most of last Thursday on the phone with my stepmother, dealing with some glorious family issues. After I hung up the phone, the only thing I wanted to do was sit in my room and sulk. Hey, we all have our means of coping. Luckily, my friends were having none of that shit. We decided to get into some...ahh...illicit fun. I spent the next five hours travelling. I traveled across my mind, my childhood, my present, and hell, my future too. I tried to figure out why things with my dad were so complicated, and why I wasn't good enough to fix it. I bounced questions off all of my friends, but to my immense irritation, they didn't seem to be able to understand me, my father, all of my problems, and how to fix them. So I left and walked off to be alone. I sat on the benches in front of Stenson, and just started to bawl like I was a toddler. I was bawling like a toddler that just wanted some attention. But, like I said about Rick and Spice Rice, I was in college now; there was not crying shoulder. Then, of all things, if you guys can believe it, I thought of the taste a meal. It was one of my birthday meal's at J.C Alexanders. I had Gnocchi, and half of my father's veal. It was one of the best dinners I have ever had in my life: the Gnocchi was very rich, and Veal worked well it because it was so tender (sorry little calf). I remembered the conversations we had at the table about Roman History, the Spanish American War, The Medcci, and growing up in Argentina under Perón. Point is, the food I ate stuck with me, and it served as a stepping stone to remembering that I shared that meal with my father. In that moment, as much as I wanted to clobber my father with a blunt object, I realized that at I also wanted to throw my arms around my dad and just be that same kid at J.C Alexanders. That's some serious stuff to be mulling over under the influence. I decided then and there that I was going to call my father and talk through this seemingly infinite mountain of bullshit.
It was an exhausting night, but it wasn't over. I went back to my room to shower and freshen up. I was still a little salty, and even more morose. Again, my friends were having none of that shit. They showed up at my door with what else? Yup, you got it, Spice Rice. We sat on the floor of my room, and didn't really say much. We didn't need to.