(no subject)
Said I'd explain at the end of my last post. You know, my being gone and all. I'm sorry. I still haven't gotten on IMs to explain. I will, I think when this dose of Benadryl wears off a little. Or if I've worked up my nerve, right after this.
Last time I was on the computer it was right before Thanksgiving. That weekend should be self-explanatory. Baking, cooking, the whole shebang. Loads of it. And the shopping beforehand, all the groceries and extras and on and on. Then Friday I didn't feel well. I woke up dizzy. So much for shopping. I slept most of the day. Saturday, we went out, mum and I. I got this adorable hat, I don't know what they're called, but it's got a wide, round rim and it's like a sun hat. It's black and felty and really cute, in this kind of womanly way. Made me think of Elena. We drove around a bit and I got some books and I found Pendragon book nine in the bargain bin. Holy snap! The entire trip was justified right there.
Got a few more Christmas presents and spent the evening wrapping, wrapping, wrapping. Even people that are getting several different things, it's all individually wrapped. I'm just...I can't wrap well, but I love doing it. I love adding a little more anticipation, even if it's only for twenty seconds.
I fought I don't know what sickness the entire next week. I slept for three days straight and then I spent one day out job hunting before grocery shopping a little. The next day I took a Benadryl and conked out the whole day. And a little later, more job hunting, some exploring the roads, and another grocery trip. Mom's birthday was the twenty-ninth, too. I made her a card. We spent the evenings of a few days watching some Redbox movies--X-Men: First Class, Super 8, Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides, and Transformers: Dark of the Moon. I went to the library once, got seven books, but I've read all of them but one. I'm a sucker, too. Two of them were sequels to The Monstrumologist--the one that, with Amnesia, gave me nightmares for months. But the second and third were not so bad, and I waited with bated breath for the last in the series. Behemoth saved the downfalls of Scott Westerfeld's first book in the Leviathan trilogy. I love him, but it was so clichéd. This second was a good example of steampunk, though, and I can't wait for the last. As for Philip Reeve and his The Hungry City Chronicles, I have to get the last book soon or I'll die, and he'd better come up with his next sequel for the Fever Crumb series (prequel to the City quartet) soon or I'll have to hurt somebody. The last one, Good Omens, has made me giggle four times so far by page sixty, so Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett are on the right track. I wish Neil wrote more books and fewer scripts. But I can't wait to finish this and get back to Lestat (and more importantly, Armand) and Memnoch, the Devil.
Most of the holiday hiring is already done, I'm too late. But I put in an application at the library anyway and I'm about to apply for DressBarn. I'm just biding my time till I'm eighteen and can work in mum's plant, really. Eaton needs manufacturing workers, might pay part of my college, and has a good track record for employee treatment.
Really, I've either been down for the count with allergies and the drowsying Benadryl, or out and about looking for a job. Today I plan on printing my stationary--I've been out of colour ink to do so till yesterday--and getting at least two of the presents sent.
I need to find a better hiding place for my parents' presents, too. Oh, by the way--I got a cologne the other day. Chrome Azzaro. My gosh, it's heavenly. I almost got the Oak cologne at Bath & Body Works, too, but I don't need so many that they just go to alcohol before I use them. Hopefully they'll still have Oak later on.
Dad's depressed. While I was asleep on the couch he and mum had a row and woke me up and he started going on about how he was a failure. His first and foremost example was the fact that I was planning on going to a heathen country and haven't prayed about it enough. I don't know whether to be mad that he thinks that he's so important that it's because of him, or sad for his being so stupid sometimes. You know, I haven't prayed since I was...seven? He's said he's so worried for me, going out into the world and losing my faith like so many other teenagers. I think the fact that I was only six or seven years old when I stopped liking God, is proof that either he's shoved it down my throat too much, or there is no God that would let a kid stop believing. But that's just me. Mum came in and let me rant about him while I was reading in my room and she agreed with most of what I had to say, no matter how mean it was about him, and said that's just his way of being depressed. So I felt pretty mollified, I guess. Still kind of bad for him, but not enough to actually feel bad for him, if you know what I mean.
The most practical plan is to wait till I'm eighteen and live here while I work at Eaton and they pay for my tech, but I want out of here so, so badly. It was frustrating, before, pretending to be the good little Christian girl. But now I can barely do it at all. I'm sick of pretending and I want to get on with what I really am so I can improve my flaws instead of just my acting skills. But that's melodramatic. I'm just being self-pitying since my allergies are out of control.
If it helps anything, I seriously missed you guys while I was gone the last week and a half. Or has it been two weeks? I've slept most of it so I don't remember.
Last time I was on the computer it was right before Thanksgiving. That weekend should be self-explanatory. Baking, cooking, the whole shebang. Loads of it. And the shopping beforehand, all the groceries and extras and on and on. Then Friday I didn't feel well. I woke up dizzy. So much for shopping. I slept most of the day. Saturday, we went out, mum and I. I got this adorable hat, I don't know what they're called, but it's got a wide, round rim and it's like a sun hat. It's black and felty and really cute, in this kind of womanly way. Made me think of Elena. We drove around a bit and I got some books and I found Pendragon book nine in the bargain bin. Holy snap! The entire trip was justified right there.
Got a few more Christmas presents and spent the evening wrapping, wrapping, wrapping. Even people that are getting several different things, it's all individually wrapped. I'm just...I can't wrap well, but I love doing it. I love adding a little more anticipation, even if it's only for twenty seconds.
I fought I don't know what sickness the entire next week. I slept for three days straight and then I spent one day out job hunting before grocery shopping a little. The next day I took a Benadryl and conked out the whole day. And a little later, more job hunting, some exploring the roads, and another grocery trip. Mom's birthday was the twenty-ninth, too. I made her a card. We spent the evenings of a few days watching some Redbox movies--X-Men: First Class, Super 8, Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides, and Transformers: Dark of the Moon. I went to the library once, got seven books, but I've read all of them but one. I'm a sucker, too. Two of them were sequels to The Monstrumologist--the one that, with Amnesia, gave me nightmares for months. But the second and third were not so bad, and I waited with bated breath for the last in the series. Behemoth saved the downfalls of Scott Westerfeld's first book in the Leviathan trilogy. I love him, but it was so clichéd. This second was a good example of steampunk, though, and I can't wait for the last. As for Philip Reeve and his The Hungry City Chronicles, I have to get the last book soon or I'll die, and he'd better come up with his next sequel for the Fever Crumb series (prequel to the City quartet) soon or I'll have to hurt somebody. The last one, Good Omens, has made me giggle four times so far by page sixty, so Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett are on the right track. I wish Neil wrote more books and fewer scripts. But I can't wait to finish this and get back to Lestat (and more importantly, Armand) and Memnoch, the Devil.
Most of the holiday hiring is already done, I'm too late. But I put in an application at the library anyway and I'm about to apply for DressBarn. I'm just biding my time till I'm eighteen and can work in mum's plant, really. Eaton needs manufacturing workers, might pay part of my college, and has a good track record for employee treatment.
Really, I've either been down for the count with allergies and the drowsying Benadryl, or out and about looking for a job. Today I plan on printing my stationary--I've been out of colour ink to do so till yesterday--and getting at least two of the presents sent.
I need to find a better hiding place for my parents' presents, too. Oh, by the way--I got a cologne the other day. Chrome Azzaro. My gosh, it's heavenly. I almost got the Oak cologne at Bath & Body Works, too, but I don't need so many that they just go to alcohol before I use them. Hopefully they'll still have Oak later on.
Dad's depressed. While I was asleep on the couch he and mum had a row and woke me up and he started going on about how he was a failure. His first and foremost example was the fact that I was planning on going to a heathen country and haven't prayed about it enough. I don't know whether to be mad that he thinks that he's so important that it's because of him, or sad for his being so stupid sometimes. You know, I haven't prayed since I was...seven? He's said he's so worried for me, going out into the world and losing my faith like so many other teenagers. I think the fact that I was only six or seven years old when I stopped liking God, is proof that either he's shoved it down my throat too much, or there is no God that would let a kid stop believing. But that's just me. Mum came in and let me rant about him while I was reading in my room and she agreed with most of what I had to say, no matter how mean it was about him, and said that's just his way of being depressed. So I felt pretty mollified, I guess. Still kind of bad for him, but not enough to actually feel bad for him, if you know what I mean.
The most practical plan is to wait till I'm eighteen and live here while I work at Eaton and they pay for my tech, but I want out of here so, so badly. It was frustrating, before, pretending to be the good little Christian girl. But now I can barely do it at all. I'm sick of pretending and I want to get on with what I really am so I can improve my flaws instead of just my acting skills. But that's melodramatic. I'm just being self-pitying since my allergies are out of control.
If it helps anything, I seriously missed you guys while I was gone the last week and a half. Or has it been two weeks? I've slept most of it so I don't remember.