понедельник, 8 октября 2007 г.

makeitmorphine: Bitching and moaning...

Being right too soon is socially unacceptable. - Robert A. Heinlein


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So, I'll start my post off for this evening in a very disgruntled mood. Came home today to a blessedly empty house, was in a fairly good mood, ate a power bar, became severely hyper, talked to Janis on the phone for 45 minutes, drank tea, and piddled around with a drawing. And then my parents got home. My good mood prevailed for all of ten minutes before I decided I don't like my dad all that much.

I know I should be looking for college stuff now, and hurrying to apply and all that crud, and I actually have been starting things, but that hasn't stopped my dad from pestering me every waking moment about getting things done. And that's almost tolerable. But when I told him today that Jamie got two full-ride scholarships from two very nice schools, ((Which I'm so happy for her about! She completely deserves it, after how hard she's worked.)) he became very pushy and rather irate about the fact that I hadn't received any scholarships from schools. Why wasn't I hearing from as many colleges as Jamie? Why wasn't I valedictorian, like her?

Look, I know I'm not exactly perfect; I definitely have my flaws. But I have busted my ass to impress him my entire high school career. I am not exactly the most brilliant of students; I struggle to get the grades I do, which, I might add, have never been good enough for him. Everything I have done I've done in the hopes that I could make him proud of me. And apparently he was expecting me to be just like Jamie. Maybe he should have been HER dad. Well, no. I wouldn't wish that on her.

And, again, there I go sounding like I'm complaining about a good thing. I can just hear people thinking, 'Well, she's just whining. She's got it good, her dad loves her and wants her to succeed.' Yeah, ok, that's the truth to a degree. Yes, he loves me.  Yes, he wants me to succeed. But he isn't a good dad. A good dad wouldn't pick fights with you whenever you show the slightest inkling of being happy. I know I sound like I'm exaggerating, but I'm not. He does it maliciously, and I'm not lying.

Wow. I really sound like a whiny little baby. Maybe if you knew him you'd understand. I can't explain it all to a stranger, it comes out all wrong.

Well, whatever, enough about him. He's a bastard, whether or not anyone else thinks so. I've got my mom and my friends and that's all I need.

I'm meeting Janis after school tomorrow; she's my friend/semi-boss, and she's adorable. We're going to get coffee at the new bookstore they just opened in Spirit Lake, and I'm excited. Next week we're going into town to go shopping and go to an internet cafe so I can teach her a few more things about her laptop.

Speaking of next week, it's Homecoming! I'm rather excited, even though I'll only be at school for three days of it. Finally, Homecoming as a Senior. Yay me. Thursday, which is also my eighteenth birthday, we're going to see Antigone at Whitworth, and then after school I'm going with my mom and a friend of ours to the casino, and we're staying a night and I'm taking Friday off. On Friday I'm either going to the Homecoming game, or going with another friend into town to mess around. Saturday is Kristyn's halloween party, but I'm not sure if I can go. Anyway, I'm excited. It'll be a full week, but fun.

Oh, and this weekend... Friday is Sarah's birthday party, Saturday I may be taking pictures of Jamie, and then later going to the powderpuff football game, and Sunday I'm sleeping. Woo.

I shall collapse.

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The problem with defending the purity of the English language is that English is about as pure as a ribhouse whore. We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary. – James D. Nicoll

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