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A rant. Otherwise known as Me Being Stupid. And its best if you don't read it.

“Now its your turn to speak. Tell us what your thinking.”

I hate any form of that phrase. I truly do. It has always seemed to be the biggest, stupidest, lie ever spoken. It is always said in such a way that is supposed to be comforting. What a joke! What a joke. I’m sorry but if anyone knows anything about me, when I’m upset, I don’t like to talk about it. When I’m really, really upset, I refuse to talk about it, because I know if I do, nothing but bad things are going to happen. Yeah, yeah I know “I’m being over dramatic.” Bah! I don’t care. When I’m mad or upset you don’t ask me to talk! I would rather bite my lip until it bled then talk. Because half the time when someone uses that all-so-wonderful (gag me with a spoon) phrase I have nothing going on in my head. Or at least nothing beyond trying not to barf and run off. So when I’m upset DON’T ASK ME TO TALK.

Dad got mad at me today. Really mad. And afterward he asked me what my side of the story was. I wasn’t about to tell it. You want to know why? Because in my little messed up mind I believe that all my words will get twisted. And most of the time nothing can make me think other wise. But I’m going to tell my side of it. Right now. And I’ll probably get ‘talked to’ about this post. Dad will want to know why I didn’t say it before, why I stayed silent, why I didn’t mention it, etc. etc. You know why? Because I was too upset. And I didn’t feel like cleaning up vomit. But I’ll say my side of things now, and I’ll try to relay what I think he thinks was the problem too.

I had an awesome weekend planned. It had been planned for about 2 weeks or so, and about last Friday-ish (as in the 24th) final details had been solidified. Yes, you heard right, I actually planned something ahead of time. Between the 24th and Wednesday, things went to hell. My weekend plans were as follows: Stay at home Friday night, do homework and catch up on sleep-after all, I had a big weekend. Saterday morning, go with dad to the big rocket launch, and after the launch, around 5 or 6-ish he would drop me off at my friends house (about 10 minutes from the field). I would shower, and change into my holloween costume (that I never bothered to buy), and at 7 hang out (aka. Party) with a bunch of friends I don’t see often, due to different counties, until Midnight. Dad would then have picked me and Paul up on Sunday morning, we would have gone to day two of the Launch, and then have headed back up to Dale City. It would have been a good weekend. Needless to say, its 7:50, and I’m sitting at home typing this, and not at the party. Instead, I got stuck working today, the rocket launch was flat out cancelled because the farmer didn’t harvest (I can sympathize with that), and I have a huge headache and my lip is bleeding where I bit it.

Now I, like any other typical teenager, got pissy about it. I didn’t get pissy at work, gotta give me credit there, but starting at about 5:30 on the drive home from work, I started sinking into pissy-ness. After all, I wasn’t going to get to see my friends this weekend. So me and mom got home, and ate dinner, which dad had already finished making, I changed into ‘human clothes’ (aka. Jeans) and ate dinner. We watched a episode of West Wing and I had some apple/cheese cake-thing-ie. Which by the way was excellent. But I was still pissy. Mom and dad said to go feed the dogs. So I did. But it was that really nasty stuff that looks like corn beef hash. And as I stood there waiting for it to slide out of the can (as I held it upside down) dad said the first thing that pissed me off. I wasn’t going fast enough. (Here’s my cue to get super snarky, I said not to read this.) I was waiting for it to slide out so that I could chop the ‘log’ in half and make sure the two dogs got equal amounts. Apparently that’s not how its supposed to be done. I shrugged it off (apparently with a lot of attitude) and did it dad’s way. I then proceeded to feed the dogs. Afterwards I was cleaning their water dish. Dad asked for the rag. I balanced the dish-which was full of water-on the divider between the two sinks. And handed him the rag with one hand. Big mistake. The rag was wet, I didn’t wring it out, and I didn’t rinse it for him. I got an attitude. Me being the idiot that I am, didn’t realize what I had done. Dad blew up, and told me to go upstairs. So a bewildered me did. A few seconds after I get into my room, still not comprehending what I did wrong, dad starts talking to me from the bottom of the steps. I lean on the railing and listen, I don’t remember any of the exact conversations after this point. I got the gist of it though. Basically I was grounded from Stage Crew for the week, including Tuesday (a teacher work day). A few minutes later mom comes to the bottom of the steps (dad had left) and asks if I understood. I said no, and she said I needed to talk to him. I said okay, give me a minute (I needed to calm down, rinse my face with water, get a drink, etc.). I go down, they’re talking, I get sent to the kitchen for a moment while they finish. I come back in, and it turns out I’m not grounded from Drama. Yea! But we hence have a conversation- aka. they talk, and I’m silent trying not to get in more trouble. By the end of it, I have no phone privileges, I can go to Drama, but I might not do the winter and spring shows. There was more that was said, but I don’t feel like typing it. Because as I said, I still have a huge headache.

Dad just asked me if I was okay. My response: “Yeah, just a headache”. He offered me aspirin, I said “no thanks, I don’t like aspirin.” That’s all for now. But basically this whole thing happened because my weekend got ruined, and I didn’t wring out a rag. And if you’ve bothered to read all this, your freakish. And you don't know how to follow directions (or you just didn't want to). Lol. But bear in mind that that was a very, very simplified version of things, Dad could probably retell the whole thing from another angle and be just as correct. But to me, that’s what I believe happened.

God I need therapy.

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Comments

I am not Freakish!!!

Wait I am but I knew that long before you told me.

I dont think your instructions were that clear though.

Comments

Mookie, your mom was the same way for a long time, she'd rather write down her feelings than say them out loud. For the same reasons too. She learned over time to talk it out with me so we could get past it.

I'm still learning who you are, and this is something I'll take into account next time we get into it. But something you need to know is that giving you your chance to talk is a sincere offer, so don't just blow me off about it.

Mom pegged it last night (before you came back down). She knows us both too well sometimes, which is why I listen to her and ask for her viewpoint. I know I overreact sometimes, which is why I step back and calm down. You have to admit though, I don't lose my temper often.