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Sep. 22nd, 2012 02:49 pm
(no subject)
I should have posted a mirror to the stories I posted lately, as I have negletted this journal a bit, but I really can't. To do so, I should be in a slighthy good mod, which, right now, I am not.
Right now, I just feel like ranting, and hope you'll allow me to. You don't need to read this. You don't need to answer if yiu don't feel like. I'm aware that I'm beig a bit childish (just a bit, though) but I need to put it down at least on paper (well, screen, but you get it).
The jerk. The absolute Jerk. and I'm calling him a jerk because it's the nicest thing coming to my mind.
According to the jerk, also known as father (I refuse to call him dad right now, I'm too mad for that), I am a loser, a delusion, a failure. Apparently, I also have no respect whatsover for him (guess what? I dared to change channel while there were the adversatings!) and I do absolute nothing. I don't cook, so, fogive me: I just wake up every morning at half past five, make HIM coffee, get breakfast ready.I work also from seven in the morning to eight in the evening, but, ehy, it's behind a counter! So it doesn't matter and I have to just shout the hell up because I do nothing. Also, I apparently waste money buying and buying. Apparently. I have the gift of the ubiquity, because, while I'm on the job six days a week, and "free" the only day of the week every one is closed, I'm around buying clothes (nothing new in over two years), purses (five years) books (few months) and shoes (two years). I psent my mondays working at home, cleaning, grocery shopping, and trying to get an hold of burocracy, all on my own, and this month I've already gone two times at the hospital for bringing this person or that one. (I don't have time to go to my own visit).
I also tell Lies after lies, apparently, doesn't matter if there's plenty of people saying the same thing as me. Oh, and I should stop being a dreamer and writing, because, sriously? Why wasting my time? Who's gonna read what I do?
I was that mad that I spent my free hour cleaning, and now I don't even have a canvas to paint to calm me down (the only two things working for me).
So, sorry, but, what the hell! if at 58 he decided to have a middle age crysis, well, sorry, but a, he is a bit too old, and b, he can do soemthing else instead of taking his anger or what the hell it is on me!
Right now, I just feel like ranting, and hope you'll allow me to. You don't need to read this. You don't need to answer if yiu don't feel like. I'm aware that I'm beig a bit childish (just a bit, though) but I need to put it down at least on paper (well, screen, but you get it).
The jerk. The absolute Jerk. and I'm calling him a jerk because it's the nicest thing coming to my mind.
According to the jerk, also known as father (I refuse to call him dad right now, I'm too mad for that), I am a loser, a delusion, a failure. Apparently, I also have no respect whatsover for him (guess what? I dared to change channel while there were the adversatings!) and I do absolute nothing. I don't cook, so, fogive me: I just wake up every morning at half past five, make HIM coffee, get breakfast ready.I work also from seven in the morning to eight in the evening, but, ehy, it's behind a counter! So it doesn't matter and I have to just shout the hell up because I do nothing. Also, I apparently waste money buying and buying. Apparently. I have the gift of the ubiquity, because, while I'm on the job six days a week, and "free" the only day of the week every one is closed, I'm around buying clothes (nothing new in over two years), purses (five years) books (few months) and shoes (two years). I psent my mondays working at home, cleaning, grocery shopping, and trying to get an hold of burocracy, all on my own, and this month I've already gone two times at the hospital for bringing this person or that one. (I don't have time to go to my own visit).
I also tell Lies after lies, apparently, doesn't matter if there's plenty of people saying the same thing as me. Oh, and I should stop being a dreamer and writing, because, sriously? Why wasting my time? Who's gonna read what I do?
I was that mad that I spent my free hour cleaning, and now I don't even have a canvas to paint to calm me down (the only two things working for me).
So, sorry, but, what the hell! if at 58 he decided to have a middle age crysis, well, sorry, but a, he is a bit too old, and b, he can do soemthing else instead of taking his anger or what the hell it is on me!