My dad, as the title implies, is gross. It's not that he is just constantly physically revolting; more likely, he doesn't have any idea what normal standards of hygiene are.
Exhibit A: He flosses in public places, and not even in the bathroom either. Because of this habit, he now carries a small piece of floss in his pocket so he can clean his teeth after he eats out, literally right there, at the table. The floss is kept loose, without a container or bag, and I'm pretty sure he reuses the same piece.
In this journal, I'm going to be bitchy. Maybe catty even. But most likely just bitchy, because I have to get a few things out of my system.
1)Playing guitar, getting stoned, and singing about peace will not bring peace. It's a nice sentiment, but the fact remains that you are not doing shit to make the world a better place.
2)If you are pale, you will look stupid in a white tuxedo. It's not racism, it's color theory.
In order to eliminate all pretenses of literary merit, I'm going to just point out right now that the title is part of a metaphor comparing baseball and my pubic education, specifically the final part of it.
You see, there are ten days left of school, and I find myself in a bit of a pickle; there seems to be a schism in my group of friends. Put simply, my two best friends are fighting, and I seem to be the only one caught in between the two.
So here I am, stuck choosing who I keep talking to after graduation. Goodie.
Have you ever felt like a paper plate, once loaded down with other peoples' slop? They blab over you until you help them to dispose of their mess and then you get thrown, feeling soggy and disgusting, into the trash can.
Or maybe like a plastic cup, designated to control their sloshy mess while they toss you back and shake you around until their flying high and dancing while you sit crumpled next to half empty bottles of beer.
Ok, the pity party is officially over. I'm gonna stop with the similes now; adult diaper was coming next, and nobody wants to read that.
I have to break a "social norm" for my psychology project. The person I'm doing this project with (also one of my best friends) suggested we be nice to people, as it seems to be a social norm to act like you have a stick up your... I'm trying really hard to keep this PG.
Anyway, we where planning this, and I came to a pathetic epiphany; I have no clue how to act "happy" and "nice" to complete strangers.
This week I was faced with a choice.
Go to a small, extremely liberal school in the mountains where the academics are ethically grounded and everyone and their brother is bisexual. Option one could possibly be a social haven for me. I identify better with most of the students going there; they're liberal, open minded, and love the outdoors.
Here's the thing about dances; if you aren't planning on actually dancing, don't go to a dance. Because, guess what: You wont have any fun. Just don't give a shit what people think, kick up your boots, and you may actually enjoy yourself. Trust me on this one.
And this advice is as much to me as anyone else, because sometimes I forget my own mantra. I promised myself I wouldn't think to much, and I have been. About how people are smarter and more physically fit and more attractive than I am. I forgot that these things don't really matter.
When churchyards yawn, and Dave sits and wallows in self pity. Ugh.
1) I feel absolutely no relief for having come out.
2) I am still completely stunted when it comes to social situations.
3) I still let my dad control my life.
4) I have no clue what else I can do.
These are the reasons I'm considering therapy. Of course, there's no way I'm telling my parents about this. I'm going to use some of my savings money, and only go a few times. I'll think of a nice story to tell them. They'd probably prefer that I lied.
I would like to clarify that this is not going to be a normal journal for me. This isn't going to make any sense. There is just so much not said, so I have to say it. And I didn't know where else.
Odd, that it took so long to see that I had the option. Not just to get in, and arrive at the doctors on time, but to know you.
And we are different types, you and I, from different homes with different friends. But you still gave me that option.
This is very unlike me to talk about something so fruity, cliche, and meaningless as my senior prom. Usually, I just don't give a crap about things like this. But I have my reasons for getting excited about this one.
First of, there's my date, who I shall refer to only as "Ella". Ella, is the type of girl who, where I straight, and this dance romantic, would be way out of my league; she's gorgeous. But more importantly she's always unusually kind, very modest but also usually quite shy. She's just a really cool person, and I want to make this as fun for her as possible.
Oasis is also a Facebook group? Mind blowing. I kind of want to join now. But can you just up and join? Does anyone know?
Well I just saw Bruno. Honestly, I thought I would be more offended. I'm actually not, not even in the slightest. It was hilarious. Though there was one thing in the film that was pathetic; an openly gay man is apparently more safe in the fundamentalist middle east, interviewing a terrorist than he is in a US Ultimate Fighting arena. That's disappointing, to say the least.
follow this web address.
Tired now. Sleep.
It's how I look. Sunburn. Snowboarding sunburn. Really, really stupid of me.
I can't seem to form decent sentences at the moment. I'm practically dead. Too much spring break. Good thing it's almost over. Except then I'll have to deal with friend drama. I hate it when my friends fight. Bothersome and awkward.
Spring Break has been pretty amazing. Lots of snowboarding and cross country skiing and time on my exercise bike, catching up on movies I haven't seen. Too much time with parents. But that can't be helped.
So I got into college. It's not really my top choice, but I wont hear back from my top choice until mid-April. Besides, it's still an amazing school, and I'd be thrilled to attend.
The relief I'm feeling is hard to explain. It's just that I finally know for sure that, worst comes worse, I won't be stuck in this goddam town my whole life. I won't have to go to a community college with everyone from high school. It's one less thing I have to worry about.
Off guard is how I felt today after I got this text from my sister:
"We need to have a bit of a heart to heart when I get off work around four. It seems we've been keeping secrets from each other"
I read this literally seconds before an essay exam. Yeah, to say the least, I didn't remain focused too terribly well.