So the Me with issues has been the one is full swing, the one that doesn't like to talk about fandom, doesn't want to write any fic at all, and just crushes myself with guilt until I can't breathe. Oh, I can breathe, I'm just being melodramatic.
Which is where the poetry comes in. Yes, poetry. Been writing quite a bit, which is pissing me off. I don't like writing poetry. I don't like it because I don't write personal things, the poems are clear characters, sexless voices, and I hate it because I want to share it with others but I recoil at the thought that people will assume that poem is an answer to that old question: "Who Am I?"
No, it's not a real memory, and no, I've never done that, and no, I've never felt that. Or maybe I have. It's complicated. But the poem, like the story, isn't me.
I don't really share who me is.
So, life. Life's been okay, it hasn't been fine at least. Fine is my stock answer, I could be bleeding to death and if someone ambled over and said, "how are you feeling?" I'd answer with "fine."
Okay just means bleh and blah and other bland, colorless remarks devoid of stirring emotions.
My mother's bought a puppy. A Yorkshire terrier. I am not excited nor unhappy, just wary. I've long ago come to the realization that my family are not pet owners. We're not terrible people, it's just that, well, we're not pet people. It's all good when the pet's being cute and adorable and such, but when he misbehaves or starts acting up, then, well, oh yeah, last time Mom fucking gave away the last pet, Shadow, which broke my sister K's heart.
Still. His name is Valentino. He's a sweet-tempered, funny dog. I'll just try not to get too attached.
My dad's not speaking to me.
He's pissed at me.
Basically my mom and I got into an early morning argument on Saturday. She did her usual laundry list of "you should have done this and this and since you didn't, I'm going to yell at you and insult you" and I did my "I don't give a shit, oh now you're really taking it too far, now I'm really going to disrespect you" act. I said something really offensive and she got pissed.
Later that day, auroraslily and I acted on behalf of the English department to basically welcome incoming freshman to the school and give them info on the English major. (And I shamelessly pimped the English Club, as I'll be heading it next year.)
The Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences was impressed with us and she (very nice woman) informed us that Admissions is always looking for newly graduated people to work in their department and that if we wanted to go to Grad school, that's a good way to get it, because employees go for free.
When I got home, I tried to tell my mom about how much I enjoyed it and just what I had been doing, but she wasn't listening and I got pissed at her.
Then she did her passive-agressive "I'm not letting you leave until you hug me" act when she basically blocks my exit until I give her a hug. Now, my problem with this is that I'm not a body-contact sort of person. I don't do the major affection routine. Yeah, it's a problem, but she's doing this just to freak me out. Which happens.
Later at dinner, my mom and dad want to hear about it. I tell them, though I'm still annoyed that NOW I have to tell them, when before, I tried to and was pretty much ignored. I tell them about working at college and they're all, "that great! and you can live here and we won't make you pay much rent!-"
And that's where I just got incredibly angry, shot a dirty look at my mom and said, "I do NOT want to be living here for that long."
My dad just got really angry. He said how dare I disrespect him and my mom and then he threw the exact same thing I said to my mom earlier in the morning in my face.
So he's not speaking to me.
I'm actually not upset about that. I am irritated that again, I should be pleased as punch to consider living here for the next several years, never having a real personal life and just never been "away." I don't want to live with my parents forever because a part of me needs that experience of being separate.
I certainly don't want to live on Long Island either. I WANT to live in the city, or considering my lack of money, in the boroughs. I need that.
So yeah, I'm writing this because it is time for a change in my lj. I'm going to be more honest. I'm going to acknowledge that I was a total asshole for that behavior to my parents.
I'm also going to point out that the reason why I don't want to be living here isn't because I hate my parents or I'm just a fucking bitch: it's because when things get bad, they get really bad. And when my mom just freaks out, I'm the one who gets attacked, even if it's not my fault and then I'm forever singled out as the bad one.
Things have got to change. I'm 21. I have a good part time job. I'm doing okay in school. I know where I'd like to go and what I need to do to get there. And yeah, I'm not fan-fucking-tastic, but then, was I ever?
The answer's no. So maybe it's time to work at that too.