the air near my fingers
08.31.03 @ 8:15 p.m.
*silent scream of murderous outrage* MY FUCKING FATHER. *note: this is not crying jag angry, it's fast-talking, venomous rant angry.* I believe I wrote about my decision to stop burning CDs for the mad album distributor. Well, I think I wrote my thoughts about it but not perhaps that I actually announced my intent to never burn a copy of one of my albums for him to distribute to the world in general. No. No more. This act was spurred by him INSISTING that I burn a copy of an album he's never listened to (it would be far too easy for him to just borrow the album and see if he actually likes it enough to want a copy rather than just taking left and right. Bastard.) Anyway. I burned the album but declared it to be the last one, that it was sitting on the computer table, and he'd have to label it his own damn self. All seemed well in the world. The CD disappeared as it should. I even left my original copy of the album out so he could put the appropriate track titles down, not that I think he really cares. This was perhaps a week ago. Perhaps less. I was working, I know that, and I was annoyed because I ended up staying up late to finish it and was fucking exhausted at work the next day. Mom remembers my announcement of "It's on the table, label it, whatever, I'm through."
So, today. I come back from possibly the least stressful driving lesson ever (back and forth between the condiment factory and the new high school on near deserted roads) and I ask if he still has one of my White Stripes albums, because this morning I was freaking out that I lost it. He asks if I burned that album, and I said yeah, it's gone, you must have taken it. Back and fucking forth.
I have to go eat dinner now, I'm sure I'll still be all angry when I get back. It's so fun to eat with a 55 year old who is sulking like a fucking three year old.
Well. That was.... silent. I spoke a couple of times, but Mom was the only one to reply. Aren't awkward silences grand? *sigh* I'm less angry, but I still think he was being petty and stupid. I forgot to mention he vowed 'big revenge.' For refusing to burn a fucking CD. Revenge. I cannot express how stupid I think that is.
But I get ahead of myself a little. What happened was that I said "Well, I left it out, maybe Mom moved it." Mom said "Nope, never touched it." So he must have moved it. I said "You must have taken it and forgot." Etc. He is so, so petty. Anyway. I maybe screwed up when I said that I made him a copy and it's not my fault it got lost. I don't have it and Mom says she doesn't and that leaves one person and I'm not going to make another. Maybe I react this way because I've suddenly sprouted some vague morals about that sort of thing or maybe I'm super pissed that he's stolen at least a dozen of my CD cases. He told me I'd be sorry, that he'd revenge himself somehow. And he got angrier when I said he was blowing things out of proportion (am I not right, with his 'big revenge' comment? I mean, what the fuck is that?). Arrgh.
But here's how paranoid I am and how low I think of my dad: I took my White Stripes tickets off the fridge and attached them to the calendar in my bedroom. Part of my concern is that I'm still watching over Andrew's ticket.
Another thing: He seems to think that I should sign my first paycheck over to him. WHAT? Why the hell would I do that? It doesn't make any sense whatsoever. Especially considering I have to buy food and pay rent next year for the first time, really. It's not like I'm out of college and totally on my own, like my brother. I have a bad feeling it's going to be much the same as with my brother, where he bitches and moans about money owed behind his back and doesn't seem to say anything out front. I don't know. He's also convinced that I simply MUST pay back all the money my parents are taking out and my mom privately tells me that she thinks it's rather ridiculous to expect such a thing. It's all so frustrating. And maybe I'm bringing a lot of it on myself by being kind of insolent, but I'm not willing to jump at his command. It's just not going to happen. And I'm going to stick to my resolve of not burning any CDs for him. I think I can deal with that, since there isn't anything of his I want except possibly some Bob Dylan, but you know what? I can live without it.
But today wasn't all stupidity and anger. I spent the morning in bed reading a cheap romance novel (a Signet Regency, which is a deviation from my usual Zebra Regencies--Hey, I wrote one, I might as well read them and figure out how a London Season should go) and then yet another trip to the library. This time I actually did get my tape of The Rutles and from the sale shelf I got a copy of The 1978 Annual World's Best SF. Two of the authors in it wrote stories I read when I took a SF class Winter Term of my freshman year. I also had a really good driving lesson. It was way easier shifting up to second gear on the road of an empty industrial/commercial area than stopping and starting over and over in a big parking lot, which is pretty much what I had been doing. I'm getting more confident, though I really doubt I'll have my license before I go back to Eugene, which still sucks. I had misunderstood and thought that at some point I'd get a car for myself, but I was apparently wrong. *sigh* I need a job in Eugene.
Simpson time, dessert time, book time, logic problem time, basically it's time to be doing something else.
(Title track from Elephant by The White Stripes)
Previously
fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
