"Good times, bad times, you know I've had my share..."

Here's my rant of the day. Brace yourselves, my friends.

First of all, my dad is irritating me beyond belief. He didn't want me to go on the computer today, but I thought he was joking so I turned the computer on to download my photos. He went into a fit over it, I retaliated, and all hell broke loose. He has it in his head that I act like the computer's mine. I'll admit that I overreact, but he does, too. So my strategy is to go on the computer when he's either: a) working or b) sleeping. When he's home and awake, I'll ask him in a civil tone. Which I already do.

And now, for the other half.

I hate my grandfather. My grandmother is getting better about not excluding people, but my grandfather is another story. He doesn't make an effort to get to know me, my brother, and my two favourite cousins, and neither does my grandmother. Just because we're a little different. One of my least favourite cousins, however, is in my good books. I actually didn't mind being around him. He seemed to be genuinely kind to people, which is fantastic. But my grandparents never tried to get to know us different folk, and it really annoys me to no end. My least favourite aunt is the same way.

It never really occurred to me that my grandparents treat me like a kid until my mom brought it up once. It makes sense. They don't take me seriously. They don't take my brother seriously, and they don't take my favourite cousins seriously.

Because we're different.

What's so fabulous about being normal, anyway? What makes them so bloody special?!