I need to vent

My parents appall me.

Seriously. Yeah, I've been known to go on and on about something, but yelling at me won't make me stop, it'll just infuriate me even more. Why don't they get that?! If they want respect from me, they need to treat me with respect, plain and simple.

My dad, for instance. We're at the library, and he told me off for 'going on and on' about something. He had told me to walk around to pay my fines because I forgot to remind the librarian that I had fines, and I don't know if she saw them on the monitor. So I'm about to walk around when my dad says, "Just hold on, and give them your card here!" And I called him a hypocrite. And I 'went on and on'. And he yelled at me.

It was raining when we went home, and when I got in the door, I took my shoes off, thinking Mom would yell at me if I walked on the wood flooring in wet running shoes. My dad, who came in after me, yelled at me for not stepping in (on the wood floor, in wet runners...), and he KICKED MY SHOES OUT OF THE WAY, OUT OF HIS WAY! AM I SOME KIND OF INCONVENIECE TO HIM OR SOMETHING?! THIS IS RIDICULOUS!

I swear, every time I go to the library with my father, he tells me that Mom and I need to stop reserving so much stuff. Hey, I can't control when it comes in!

I think I'll start walking to the library, even when I have a large amount of items to go back and/or pick up. Anything to avoid my old man. Yes, I'm willing to break my back to avoid going to the library with him. I need the fresh air anyhow.

My mom is nearly as bad. When I was crabby and recovering from that headache, my sister called after I'd calmed down, and she was tellig my sister that I get so frustrated over my algebra, and that the black belt test was so for me, and now... oh, and according to my mother, I should get my florist's certificate. Why would I need a florist's certificate?!

Whether you like it or not, MOM, I'm going to university. Got it?!

On top of that, I'm supposed to like Steph because she's my brother's pick. I never said I hated her. All I said was that she's rather irresponsible. She has allergies, and a cat. Now, I have no problem with folks getting married young, I just think that my brother is too immature to handle marriage. I don't even know where he's working anymore, and if he doesn't have a steady income, how is he gonna support Steph?

I can't wait 'til youth group starts up again.

I want to walk to the library tomorrow.

Since apparently I'm being very disagreeable, I'm gonna rebel. I think I should be a little self-indulgent. For too long, I've smiled, nodded my head, obeyed people, and didn't give myself credit.

I'm not such a bad person. I have skills. I can knit. I can read. I can do math, even though it drives me nuts. I can defend myself from an attacker. I can protest peacefully. I can play music - not as well as some kids, but I know how to read music, which is a plus. I can work, but nothing seems to grab me, which is why I don't have a job. I am not completely worthless. I have potential.

I'm not going to let anyone squash my dreams. I will work in radio. I will continue playing music, and hopefully, I'll become a session musician or a singer. I love to sing. And I think, if given the chance, I would love to act. Because I was in karate for so long, I never took acting classes. Maybe I'll start.

Maybe I'll write for a living, too. Heck, Stephen King writes and is in a band. If he can do it, I can, too. And my parents aren't going to stop me.

Now, my dears, here's some music. I believe my Ravelry friend, Dianna, would call these songs 'pretty noises', right, Dianna? :)

First, Blitzkrieg Bop by The Ramones




Bad Reputation by Joan Jett. This video might not be suitable for younger readers, or readers who don't like swearing.




Rock n' Roll High School by The Ramones




My Generation by The Who

Take that, Combat Mom

My mother, well, she's in combat mode today. So I'm up here fuming with my music blaring. First it was the Rocky Horror soundtrack. Now it's Queen.

Man, I love being able to access the internet from the Spare Oom and blast music.

We got into a fight over school safety - I know, it's an odd subject to argue over, but we're a strange family. You see, we were watching Dr Phil at the time, and the episode was about violence in school. So I'm trying to get my point across, and she's cutting me off, and gets all offended when I tell her not to interrupt, because apparently I sound condescending. I probably did sound rude, but trust me, that was not what I was aiming for. So I hide up here, and scream that she always has to be right, and it's been that way since the day I was born. Dad calls me back down and calmly tells me that that was uncalled for and that the sun doesn't shine outta my, er, butt. I would use the alternative word, which is what he actually used, but I don't want to offend anyone. You have to feel sorry for my dad, really. He got caught in the middle of a catfight (again, I'll avoid using the explicit alternative).

So now I'm up here, blogging, with a Ravelry window open, Queen's greatest hits blaring, and a can of V8 on my desk.

♪Can anybody find me somebody to looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooove?♪