December 20, 2002 :: 11:45 p.m.
white boy rap is never good
I'm strangely tired. It's strange because I didn't get up until 11 this morning, and thus have only been awake for under 13 hours. And it's not like I've been Producto Girl or anything; all I did was see a movie with Adam. He had to have some very nasty procedure done to his toe this morning, so he called off work and we went to see
The Two Towers instead. To that I say: very good movie. I want to see it again, definitely. Gollum was slightly annoying to me, in sort of the same way that Dobby was in the latest Harry Potter movie. Maybe I just have a genetic aversion to gnarled, lumpy, greenish computer animated creatures.
Okay, I have this problem. My brothers like to rap. They are suburban white boys who like to rap. They are possibly the whitest white boys in all of Whiteonia, and they like to rap. And I do not mean that they like to listen to rap, though they do that also. I mean that they like to speak rhyming phrases very quickly to an atrocious ghetto beat. It's a shameful secret that I've been keeping. But now you know. It used to be just a thing that Adam did, but now he's lured Mason into the fold with him. I'm terrified.
Also terrifying, to cleverly segue into a less comic train of thought, is the fact that I am losing all motivation to return to school of any sort after finishing up this year at LVC. I like the idea of art school. I really, really do. And I'd like it a lot, I'm sure. But it's all so big and expensive and scary and overwhelming. And now, with my parents even farther out onto the rocks than before, it's even worse. Because how can I make college work when my parents completely forget about me? My dad hasn't so much, but my mother seems to have had the memory of a daughter wiped from her brain. I've been home from school for a week, and I've seen her once. One time, for five minutes. And she wasn't here to see me, she was here to talk (read: argue) with my father. She hasn't called to say hello or see how I am, she hasn't stopped by... nothing. There is nothing. It's like separating from my dad has severed her ties to me, as well. My dad can't do college payment things. It's impossible. And with this heaped onto my plate right now, I don't even want to think about school.
They're not getting back together, by the way. It's almost definite. I've been used a sounding board for my dad for the last few days, which is very depressing for me. He tells me all of these personal relationship things that I do not want or need to know, and what can I possibly say in return? Not a damn thing, that's what. I just cry and pet whatever cat is around, usually Giles, until he decides that he's had enough of playing Scary Therapy Patient for one night. Tonight he came home and told me that they had a serious falling-out, and that he's probably going to move someplace. She'll move in here, I guess. I don't even know what to think or say or do. The first thing that actually came into my head was "where will the cats go?" They'll stay here if my mom takes this place, I assume. I hope.
See, this is why I love cats more than people. Cats do not separate/get divorced or tell you things that you didn't ever want to hear or forget that they ever knew you just because they're not living with another cat anymore. They are soft and lovable and chock full o' unconditional love. That is why I love cats more than people. Well, except for Adam. I love Adam more than anything, cats and coconut popsicles included.
Anyway. The prospect of getting a job and renting an apartment and just living for a while is becoming more and more appealing. I don't want to think about school. I don't want to watch the entire foundation of my life thus far break into pieces and blow away in the wind. I just want to have a little space of my own and do normal living things. Maybe share that space with Adam, if he'd want to. It would be good. However, since it would be good, it probably won't happen. Such is life as the butt of all the Universe's jokes.
I'm going to read now, and drink something liquidy and cold. Like water, or maybe a soda if I'm feeling adventurous. Books are good. They are my everlasting friends. Go books, it's your birthday.
'Night.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
I like pina coladas - March 30, 2005
must... finish... projects... - March 22, 2005
Mr. Postman delivers the good stuff - March 18, 2005
when everything is bad - March 16, 2005
of fruits and menstruation - March 15, 2005