Wonderful My insurance company does not cover lost wages and I�m off work again today. It�s literally impossible for me to be coherent and not have pain. So, today, I chose to not have pain and instead sleep. My normal dosage is supposed to be 2 vicodin pills, but that knocks me on my ass, so I tried only one to see if I could make it at work.
Nope.
One vicodin still knocks me on my ass.
Well, I haven�t really done much in the past few days and it was exciting just to go to the grocery store yesterday. Well, I also bought myself a six-pack of Guinness, so I guess there was an actual reason for me going. I was equally excited to get some new work clothes at Old Navy. Maybe next weekend I�ll go get some more.
See my thing is, maybe if I have clothes that I�m excited about; I�ll be excited to go to work again.
Ha, probably not, but I can try, can�t I?
I�ve been reading a lot too. I�ve added a list of books to my sidebar with reviews for each. It seems that books go through dry spells with me. Most of the time, it seems, the books I buy suck so badly that it discourages me from reading at all. Lately, I�ve liked almost everything I�ve picked up. All of those books have been read since I arrived home from school.
Well kids, the good news is that I�m getting a new car. The bad news is that my mom is using the money she was going to give me to get settled into an apartment when I graduate. So, which is more important? Obviously the car. If I don�t have the car, I can�t go to work to get money for next year.
It�s a nice little car. It�s a 1993 Ford Taurus, plum colored. It�s a four-door car with an airbag and a real trunk! YAY! No more hatchback for me! It�s roomy and comfortable. It drove well, the shocks, tired, and brakes were in good condition and it only had 75,000 miles on it. We�re buying it from the guy who got me my escort.
I know, I know, I had a lot of problems with the escort, but they were all problems that happen as a car gets older. My little escort did well during its time, but now, now I must move on.
Goodbye little escort.
I can�t believe that I�m on my third car in the 5 years that I�ve been driving. That almost seems normal for people our age, which is kinda scary if you think about it. Most people I know are on at least their second car. I�m not sure if its because of accidents or because the cars just die eventually, but it�s still weird to think about.
Oh, something somewhat exciting did happen this weekend.
Saturday, my mother took me over to my father�s to pick up Bandit�s paperwork (he�s getting declawed tomorrow) and a few other things that I need. She actually came in the house because I begged her to and while I was downstairs grabbing the kitty litter that I�d left there she and my father chatted.
Now, keep in mind that he was in a decently cheerful mood when I talked to him on the phone to let him know that I was coming over.
Well, I come upstairs and put the kitty litter near the door and he was sitting at the kitchen table writing out a check for my summer tuition. Out of fuckin nowhere, and I kid you not, he says, �You need help.�
I was a bit confused and responded with, �Huh?�
�You�re mentally unstable, you need help.�
Now in all fairness, I wasn�t sure if I was having some kind of hallucination from the vicodin or if I was even hearing my father correctly. I looked around in confusion, looking for my mother. She was looking around his living room, I think, trying to stay out of the situation.
�What are you talking about?� I asked him as I walked by him to get to my room.
�I can�t even talk to you, you need to talk to someone,� he was referring to the argument that we�ve had several times in which he says that I�m crazy.
Yeah, me.
I�m crazy.
He�s the one who basically has some kind of romantic relationship with his mother minus the physicalness.
He�s the one who whenever something is said about him deflects it to someone else, �Well what does your mother do��
He�s the one who hasn�t had a stable relationship with a woman since my mother.
He�s the one that chooses women and his mother over me.
I�m crazy.
I�m so crazy that I have a 3.5 in electrical engineering, I�ve never been in any real trouble, I�ve had the same job as an intern for three years, and I do good work.
I�m crazy?
My response to him was, �I don�t want to argue with you.�
Apparently, my father, who was an English major in college, did not understand that sentence. He started yelling at me, right in front of my mother, the person he actually hates. Then, if that weren�t stupid enough, he started complaining to my mom about me. Yeah, he spends every argument that we have badmouthing my mother and suddenly he acts like he�s her best friend when it comes to bitching about me.
�I told you that I don�t want to argue with you,� I repeated coldly. I knew, just knew, that he�d been talking to his mother, that bitch of a woman I�m supposed to call my grandmother.
Again he ignored my pleas to leave me alone. I mean, seriously, I�d just been in a major car accident in which my car was essentially totaled. I�m on medication, I�m tired, I�m worried about my future, and he has nothing better to do than add to my stress.
What an asshole.
He brought up that my friends and I went into his house late Sunday night when we had gone to St. Andrews and had to use the bathroom. Well, I know that was a little bit ridiculous, but we had looked everywhere for a bathroom and he had told me that I was always welcome in my house. Even my mother wouldn�t have had a problem with it.
So, here he is, screaming at me in front of my mother, trying to get her involved, while I�m repeating to him to leave her alone, and for what reason did this actually start?
There isn�t one. I didn�t say anything to him, at all, just that we were coming over. He, again, talked to his mother and she found some stupid way to manipulate him into thinking this accident was my fault and it was going to cost him money.
How, exactly, has this cost him money?
My mom is paying for the new car, she pays for the insurance. He hasn�t even helped look for a new car. He has done nothing, as usual. He�s not even paying for the full amount of my college class; my mom is paying half. Yeah, that�s right kids, he promised to pay for my last two years and who is bailing his ass out again?
My mom.
My �wonderful� father who spent two years wearing on my mother about how when he was going to be paying for college, I wouldn�t be going into debt at all like my mom was making me.
Now, I�m going into twice as much debt per year.
This is the same father whom I had to listen to talking about with grandma how I was �faking� my illness when I was down to 90 pounds in California.
This is the same �wonderful� father who didn�t talk to me for two months because he refused to take the block of my mother�s phone number because his crazy girlfriend at the time was jealous.
He married a woman that didn�t want me around, so he refused to see me any times other than the court mandated times.
He left me summer after summer during my early teens when I needed him most of all.
I�m crazy though?
My mother suggested counseling for my father and me when we left his house. I, frankly, don�t feel like wasting the money on counseling with a man who has too many problems to even address.
My question is, since he was so caring during my accident, should I even bother with an actual father�s day present? I planned on sending him a card, but I don�t feel like putting too much effort into something for someone that doesn�t put too much effort into being a father. Wouldn�t a real father be taking care of me instead of leaving it all on my mother? Wouldn�t a real father be asking my mom if he could help instead of starting a fight with me? Wouldn�t a real father be offering to help me get to and from work or take me places since I have no car?
Yeah, exactly.
Comments are still appreciated and wanted.
