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Really need to get back on the diet thing, as I have stocked my fridge again. When my brother and Lindsay leave for their new home in Vermont, I may be able to.
In other news, family's situation is bleh. Don't want to go into details, but financially it may be tough for a while. Really need a job and am still looking in Gainesville. I saw the house my friend has offered and it's plenty big for me although it will need a good bit of cleaning (I'm assuming that's from the last "tenant"). Can't bitch about the rent though.
Got doll stuff finished and sent. Deadline isn't until 16th so ahead of schedule. Am also doing triathalon and ran too close last time so need to work on #2 tomorrow.

Things I want in a house: claw-foot tub, window seat, new plumbing, BOOKSHELVES, a real pantry, a closet that can be walked in facing forward.
If I ever have a wedding, bridesmaids' dresses = infinity dress. No hassle about styles really so long as we all agree on guidelines (ex shoulders covered, no halters, whatever).
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I hate how I keep getting reminded of how completely insignificant I am in the universe. I mean, I know I have about as much impact as a dust speck, but it sucks to be continually reminded. I have no job. Of the three friends I had in town, one is across the state, one has dropped off the radar (which is kinda worrying), and one is not responding to texts. I haven't tried calling her because I know she's busy with a job and with family issues, but I haven't heard from her in over a month. Her brother was supposed to meet me for dinner one night, ended up cancelling and I haven't heard from him either.
So I spent this fourth of July at home squabbling with mom and not setting anything on fire. In other words, it sucked.
I hate not having a job because it means I have no reason to get up. I have no room to work in my room because of all the junk I've collected over the years, and dad hates the house being a mess. I'm kinda looking forward to their vacation (not mine) because for a few days I can spread out and do as I please. That probably won't include any visitors, since all my friends are out of contact and I got dumped at the beginning of summer. I haven't even gotten my essay back from the study abroad yet, but that's partly my fault as I didn't send it until June 25th.
I hate my life right now. I'm gaining weight because I almost never leave the house as I'm broke, and it's too hot to walk anywhere. Going somewhere would just cost money anyway. It's like my trip to Paris existed just to throw sharper relief on how much life would suck here in J-ville.
I'm thinking about taking up horseback riding again. I was too scared last time to really throw myself into it. Now that I realize how little I am regarded, who'd be around to care if I got thrown off and slammed my head into a fence post? or broke a bone or vertebrae? No one.
I can't wait until I get back to Gainesville. I need the regimentation. Gym three, possibly five mornings a week, and class the other two. I honestly don't want to live anymore but one has to keep up appearances, don't they?
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I really hate this pattern my mother and I appear to have gotten into. Anytime I bring up something that bothers me that she doesn't feel I have a reason to be bothered, she gets huffy and I'm left to deal with her anger and sometimes whatever it was that bothered me as well. She had been complaining about the light and water bills, so I said that perhaps the water faucet right outside my bedroom that's always running might have something to do with it, as well as the fact that I'm home so that's one more person using the light and water. She countered that the faucet has been running for almost two years (!) and that it makes no sense that the bill would go up now. I mentioned that gas prices were increasing and gestured toward the AC (which today, it's the middle of a hot summer - 90s outside - and I'm wearing a corduroy hoodie in the house). She's all mad because the AC is off and she's been ironing and is now sweaty, even though she suggested I turn it off for dinner. I comment that the water running constantly outside probably doesn't help the water-electric bill and she goes off on a tirade about how it's inconvenient to turn it on and off. I said, ok it's just that it's running 24/7 and I can hear it at night and it's hard to sleep when you keep having to pee because you hear running water all the time. So she gets mad and asks me what I think should be done about it. By now, I know that no matter what I say, it's going to be the wrong thing, and even damage control is kinda useless. But I try, saying it doesn't really matter, no big deal, etc. She twitches outside and shuts it off, remarking that someone has to be responsible for remembering to turn it on and off and I can't sleep until 4 and think that the hose can only run from 4 to 6 or something like that.
You know, next summer, I'm getting an apartment. Not so I can stay in town for a summer term or be close to the university and all, but just so I can stay away from this crap. What is wrong with discussing this like rational human beings? and besides, aren't there laws or something about watering one's lawns and plants more than twice a week anyway? I just see it as really wasteful. There's got to be other ways to keep the ground moist for her plants - either that or replace them with plants that don't need as much water.
It's not the plants that bother me, it's that almost every time I bring up something that bothers me, she pitches a hissy fit, unless whatever it is can be turned to her advantage. I'm sick of it, and I do not like people who play passive aggressive games with me. My mind is fucked up enough already, thanks. I don't need your bullshit too.
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I hate this time at school. It's the time of the revisitation of the Inquisition, popularly known as Nine-weeks exams. The only teachers who give such exams, of course, are the very ones you despise the most. Like my band class, for instance. He took a number of ridiculously complicated rhythms and mixed them up with a bunch of scales that have entirely too many flats and sharps. He gave this to us on Friday. The test is on Tuesday. We have to play in front of him. Great. Not only do I have to play a bunch of rhythms I can hardly play alone, but I have to play them in front of that asshole, which means every measure is going to suck major sweaty donkey balls because I have really really bad stage fright. No, it does not go away the more I perform; it gets worse. If I have to speak or play an instrument, forget it. I can't hardly refrain from passing out, much less actually sound even half decent. I hate having to play; I don't even enjoy it at all anymore. As far as I'm concerned, once I graduate, I probably won't play again. It ceased being fun last year; now, it's just my personal form of torture. I'd rather take calculus than band, and you know how much I despise math of any kind. I wanted to take chorus this year, but no, my parents were all, "you don't need to be graded on singing" blah blah blah. I'd much rather be graded on singing, because I might *gasp* actually enjoy that! I get graded on playing, singing can't be that difficult once you know how to read music. The only thing I'd need to work on was being able to sing the right note. At least I know how to fix it if it's just my voice. With my crappy ass clarinet (which was used when we got it six years ago, and it's plastic- it's not even wood- and it's a freaking Yamaha, so practically by definition it sucks) it could be almost anything that's screwing up the sound: the reed, the keys, the pads, my fingers, my embouchure, or it just plain isn't working. I told my parents I hated it. They're like "you're stuck now. deal with it." Thaaanks. I should have known better than to expect ANY sympathy whatsoever from them. I asked if I could take voice lessons from a college student (so it would be cheaper) and they said "you got out of band so you'd have more free time, you can't go filling it up with stuff like that." No, me getting out of band was because I didn't want to march anymore. I had the extra time so I could do stuff I wanted to do, not just band band band all the time. I wish I could just get someone to work with me instead of against me. If my voice really does absolutely suck, then tell me "your voice sucks, stop trying to be a singer" and I'll never sing again. If it doesn't suck but could use a lot of work, then work with me! I asked Scott to help me, but he won't. I think he doesn't want me to be able to sing. Right now, though, it's one of the things I want most. And I can't sing, because I have a clarinet shoved in my mouth that I don't want to be there.
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Another year of school has begun. Whoopee. More torture. The teachers are (mostly) nice , it's the administration that "irks my tater" as one of my friends puts it. Today we wasted over 30 minutes in what one teacher described as a "Thou-shalt-not" assembly. As in: "Thou shalt not wear midriff baring shirts, thou shalt not wear spaghetti straps, thou shalt not leave campus early unless thou hast first wasted a lot of time in the morning trying to get through the (dubiously named) student services, an (my least favorite) Thou shalt not show affection for thine fellow human beings. And by the way, you are not alone, we are here to help you." Pardon me whilst I laugh my ample ass off at that last sentence. The administration is lying. They are not here to help us, they are here to keep us in our federally subsidized cells and herd us from cell to cell, yelling occasionally just to keep things fresh, you know. I told Scott I wanted to get an orange jumpsuit and put my student number on it. I do so thoroughly despise the administration, most especially the principal.
School obviously is major suckitude, not excepting the band which I am not marching in this year. I miss it some, but I really don't want to have to deal with Mr. "Unpronounceable Conglomeration of Letters who is a pain in the arse" any more than I absolutely have to. I wish I could sing instead, or even draw. But no, I promised my parents I'd take one more year of band. Boy am I regretting that. My parents are reaching new lows, even for them. Even the youth minister at church thought some of their attitudes were abnormal. Hey, I have to agree- who else plans their kid's birth around the University of Florida football schedule and then has the nerve to tell them that? He suggested I could write them a letter telling them how I feel. It's a good idea that would work fine with normal-scope parents, but seriously, I doubt that IF I took the time to write a letter and IF they got it, I doubt they would ever take the time to read it and even if they did that there would be any sort of favorable result. What would probably happen is that one would read it, get hyperoffended, tell the other one to read it, and they get offended, and then both of them gang up on me and scream and yell and cuss at me and follow me when I try to get away from the barrage for a minute. Yes, I am a sensitive person who doesn't take criticism well. Blame my parents who concentrated on Doogie for 20 frickin years. They still help out "poor wittle samwy" beacuse he's a chronic driftless moocher. He gets confused about where he's going in life for a couple of months, and they fix him up with happy pills and send him lots of nice cash. I go around for FOUR AND A HALF YEARS in a dark cloud (which only started to dissipate within the last few months) and I'm told to "Shut up, I don't want to hear about how unhappy you are, you have a roof over your head and food to eat, that's more than my schoolkids have, I don't want to hear you say stupid things like you want to kill yourself and waste my time with that bullshit, blah blah ad infinitum." Yeah, I just love the equality in this house. It makes me all warm and fuzzy... like the feeling you get before you vomit violently from food poisoning. I never like coming to this house in the afternoons. You walk in and the very walls are institutional and oppressive. Every thing is the color of regurgitated milk and oatmeal-beige. Beige walls, carpet, ceiling, baseboards, tile, everything except the wood, which would take too much time to paint. If the house itself isn't bad enough, remember I also have to deal with my parents. And they wonder why I spend so much time either away physically or on the internet.


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September 2012

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