Wednesday, October 8, 2003

The boogey men are comin. The boogey men are comin.

Mood: Not too good, really.
Music: A Perfect Circle-Pet

Well, I added a link to Tony's Butthole Surfers fanlisting. Check it out and sign up if you want.

I am not really feeling too well right now. I just got back from eating and listening to my Dad tell my this and that and this and that that I have to do and what I am and all that crap.

Usually I just ignore it, but I guess today I'm just weak and fragile.

I have to get a job, he says. There's not a reason I shouldn't have one. He says that almost all the kids at my high school probably juggle a job and school. I suppose he's right in some way.

I don't want to get a job. School is stressful enough at this point for me. I'm not a really stable person, I cannot stand doing work/school/things of this sort for long periods of time. I get stressed from it, and I break from it.

I guess I do underestimate myself, but really...if I don't want to do something, usually I don't. Not that I can't, but when I loathe something, it becomes painful to me. Like Math. Anything like this...that I'm not the best at. It depresses me.

Right now I have loads of homework to do, and I just don't want to do it. I need some downtime every single day, it's the only thing that keeps me going. Without this downtime, I get very depressed, and I get very, very negative and cynical. I don't want to be like that again. But I'm being stretched to it.

My Dad never ceases to make me into a bad mood in some fashion when he just tells me things. Me having to get a job itself is stressful enough. Where am I supposed to work? I don't know. I don't want to work fast food again, I don't want to work at some supermarket. I don't want to do anything...because I know any job I have I will hate, and it's not like I need one so badly.

Oh, but since I got in a crash, and it's my fault, and it's my Dad's car (he bought it), I am supposed to pay the 700 dollars or whatever it's going to cost to fix it. I see.

He laid this on me too. Yeah, that really is going to help me want to get a job...just realize that I'm so stupid that I rear-ended someone that was parked AT A RED LIGHT, of all things. Yes.

Then he also starts saying I am lazy, that I do not do anything, all I do is sit on the computer. It isn't true, and I don't just waste my time here in my room. It's my sanctuary. I go here and just lay low and do my homework and listen to music. It keeps me working and in good enough moods.

Then he also begins talking about how stupid it was I got in my wreck. And he jokes about it like it's some blonde joke, something that should never happen ever. It hurts, you know. He probably doesn't say this stuff realizing that I am actually taking it all in, and it eats at me. I suppose not.

Ah well.

I believe it is time I start writing a column about all this...I have to have another column by tomorrow, or edit my KFC one. I'm just so sick of the KFC one already. I don't want to edit it for the fifth time. It's perfect the way it is, it's saying the truth. I don't want to abridge it. I don't want to do it.

I thought there was a thing called freedom of press/ freedom of speech, but whatever. The people in newspaper consider that it will "make" KFC angry. Well, it better. It better do something; because you know what? That's what the truth does.

I also have about three other papers I have to write...each for AP English.

We got our papers back recently. I got a B+ on the thing...which is good, I suppose. But I tried on that thing. I put eveything into it. I wrote like I meant it. And I get a B+?

The teacher said that "The use of many metaphors causes your paper to loose its focus. Try not to use so many."

Yeah, and fuck you. I can write whatever I want and however. I totally loathe writing a formal essay. It's so useless when I could be writing it so much better. Erg.

A kid in AP class even wrote his paper about this exact thing I am bitching about. He got kicked out of the class, too. It's sad. He was probably even a better writer than me...
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