Well, classes finally started up again.
Apparently, I have 4 new brand-spanking books to buy. Yeah, isn't that just fantastic? *Eyeroll*
Well, I do get to return two of the ones I already bought, one which is ever so expensive at $1.50 and the other 8.70. So I'm saving ten whole bucks and the *four* other books I'm getting, I have no idea how much they cost.
It's times like this that I'm glad I pursued that car accident (guy hit my car while it was parked, some denting, but nothing that's so terrible that it *needs* to be fixed), because that money is definately coming in handy. I've been cleaned out despite sacrificing my weekends to work extra hours for much needed money. However, I'm done paying my car insurance so I'll be able to save up for the next round of highway robbery known as the school bookstore.
First up at 9:25 AM was my "Indians of North America" an anthropology course. The professor I expected to have wasn't there because of jury duty, so I had the head of the anthro department as my professor for the day. He's actually very nice and doesn't seem to be evil which is good because I was worried that he'd be really difficult, so I had avoided taking classes with him. I may want to do a double major with anthropology, however, I want to finish up my English major first and if I play my cards right, I'll be done with all my requirements halfway through my junior year.
I did mention I'm a sophomore, right?
After that surprising nice and informative overview of what we'll be learning in class, I went to the second half of the Shakespeare courses offered at my school. Its name? Why, Shakespeare II of course.
I actually know I'm going to love it because my favorite professor teaches it and already it's looking to be a great course. I love Shakespeare and as a bonus, I don't have to read the first play (due Thursday) because it was already covered in one of my classes last semester.
My last course, after a long lunch break, was the one I fought to get into, a seminar course on the Renaissance. Now, the reason I had a lot of trouble getting in is because I'm only a sophomore and usually it's a class that seniors take, after they've been trained to write over-analytical, extremely wordy papers on the idea of the Renassiance as a construct of Italy regaining power lost over time due to the shift of power in the Roman Catholic papacy.
I managed to get into the class by writing my final paper for this professor (again, he's my favorite-est professor ever) on...you guessed it, the Renaissance as a contruct.
Yeah, I knewn exactly what I was doing, but I think this class will be extremely challenging, hella difficult, and really, really interesting and complex. So, I'm overwhelmed, but excited.
Now the reason for my mood "annoyed"...
I love my mom. I really have to preface this rant with that.
I. Love. My. Mom.
She can be wonderful, she's done a lot for me, fought for me when I really needed me, and given me the opportunity to go to Spain and France, as well as partially paying for my tutition.
But... (and yes, I know I'm going to sound like an ass)
She is fucking killing me.
Look, I get all A's last semester, I worked my ass off for them. I come home from school, extremely tired and I have to clean my car because there's half an inch of dirt/dust turning the color *brown* instead of a midnight blue.
And I come home and the house...is trashed.
I hate to clean. I *hate* to clean. But I do. I cleaned the kitchen *three* times yesterday because my sisters had trashed the place, I did several loads of laundry (not mine, mind you), and I straightened up the living room. My 15 yr old sister, she didn't lift a freakin' finger all day, except to bake a cake (leaving me with the mess), and to download something off the computer for my little sis, Cuppy (my nickname for her).
Okay, so the next day, I wake up (getting ready for school), and my voice? Is gone. So gone, it's in California right now. So, with a Peter Brady like crackle, I come downstairs, looking a bit like death warmed over and then kicked my ass, to...
A messy kitchen.
Which I cleaned last night.
Seriously, this is insane. So, I go to school and I come back home much later, around 3:30. I know that I'm just there to have lunch (I didn't eat at school) and then to get my car cleaned and run some errands. So...my sister's at the table, doing her homework. I ask her to clean the kitchen. She refuses. I'm too pissed off to argue, so I eat and then go back out.
By the time I'm back, it's past 5. The house is even more trashed. My dad's home and my little sister as well. I'm really annoyed. I don't want to clean, I'm tired and I just got back from a hard day of school and sometimes, I just don't wanna clean all day.
Plus, I know, whatever I do, I'm going to be cleaning again at night after dinner.
So...I wait. For anyone do anything. Finally, I clean the kitchen up (again!) and notice that someone did laundry but didn't put in the dryer.
Okay, you know what? That's not my job. It seriously isn't. I do my clothes, I'm responsible for them. I'm not responsible for everyone else's crap especially when they don't help me at all.
So, tired, I go upstairs and get online for a bit. Now...my sister told my dad that she'd do the kitchen this time, which is great.
And then my mom comes home. Since she didn't yell at me in the morning (I guess it isn't fun to yell at me when I'm kind of sick), she decides it's open season.
Apparently, to live in her house, I have to:
1 - Get another job. Yes, *another* one. Full time. And go to school. And work on the weekends. And have friends. And a boyfriend.
2 - Be her maid. Clean, clean, clean, be fucking Cinderella.
3 - pay her 800 dollars a month to live in her house, pay for *her* food so I may eat, buy food for the family since I don't provide anything and apparently, I'm such a fucking burden that I should move out now.
Let's review what I do:
1 - clean and do other people's laundry, take care of two sisters, and an insane dog
2 - not mess around in drugs or alcohol, or partying
3 - work hard in school
4 - respectful to others as long as they're respectful to me
5 - take daily (yes, daily) shouting matches and mind-messing activities (I've been told to go whore myself out on the street to make money since I'm not apparently making enough)
I'm slowly coming to my wit's end. I can't fight with her, I shouldn't, I can't talk back, I'll clean and then it's not "good enough," and and and...
This is drving me insane!
Now, that rant is subject to change. The perspective is all mine and is most likely not a full picture of my life. But...I needed to vent.