it's starting to rain a little bit outside...

So I might be getting kicked out of Hood housing. I just got a letter in the mail saying basically how when they went in to clear out the room after I left, they found a lot of empty liquor bottles and some pot with papers. FUCK. Because of this, they have no choice but to report me to Campus Security and the Dean of Students and they're gonna decide if I can remain on campus. 

I'm really nervous. I know I messed up big. Last semester, or basically all of last year, I was in a really bad mental place. I was sleeping around, drinking every night and smoking pot every chance I could get. I was dating people I shouldn't have been and doing a lot of other really bad things. I think it says a lot that I am trying to change, and have made huge changes in the right direction by joining ROTC. While I'm in the program, I'm not going to be able to drink or use drugs for fear of expulsion. I've also made the decision to live, not on my own where I know I'd be tempted to keep doing exactly what I was doing, but with a girl who is very straight edge and doesn't allow me to do any sort of drug. I've also finally realized that I don't need to sleep around... I'm pretty enough to make people have to work for it. I'm worth so much more than what I'd been doing to myself...

I think... what I might just do... is call the Dean first thing Tuesday and explain myself. I will offer to be drug tested randomly for the entire year, at cost to myself, as well as speak with the counseler in the Wellness Center about my drug use and other issues and attend NA, AA meetings. I'll seriously do anything for them to allow me to live on campus next year. 

Not to imagine how freaked out my parents would be if they kicked me off campus. I'm pretty sure they'd kill me. They don't need me aggrivating them any further. They're already freaking out epicly over ROTC. Oh.. here's a fun fact: the night before my Bat Mitzvah in seventh grade, my father beat the shit out of my mom. Aparently, while I was at my final dress rehersal of my service, she didn't fall down the stairs, she fell into my father's fists. Twelve times. This lovely fact was just shared with me earlier... I really needed to know that. Thanks guys. So now not only do I have the guilt and embarasment of being physically and mentally abused by both parents for 18 years, I know that I share those feelings with my mother. 

35 days till I leave for Ft. Knox... that's the only thought keeping me going right now. Otherwise, I think I'd be in a much worse place. And that's pretty hard to imagine.