(no subject)
So, I got this book from the library yesterday (after paying a $16 fine):
And, I gotta say, it's probably one of the best veg cookbooks I've ever read.
Not only does it give you a huge array of recipes, but it tells you about
the nutritional facts, different types of the foods you're going to be eating, et cetera.
I love it.
I wanna steal it from the library, too, but I'm not...
Ah, anyway. Maybe I should actually update.
I baked a cake and made some fries and put my dishes in the sink with water/soap in them.
We have a "rule" that if you cook, you clean your stuff (and everyone else's stuff). Which I think is ridiculous because it seems to only apply to whenever I cook. But, whatever.
So, Kevin and Matt show up and I get excited and leave with them without cleaning my dishes. MY BAD. Okay, I know. I messed that one up. Whoops. We come back and are sitting around outside hanging out and my dad comes up and is like "Will you take 15 minutes to clean out the box on your chair?" Leaving me a bit confused. After Kevin and Matt leave I go in my room to find my dirty dishes stacked on each other along with a half-empty container with grape juice (that I was supposed to refill) sitting in a cardboard box on my chair. What? Exactly.
So, whatever, I'm a little pissed but I go and I clean up my dishes and put them away.
Dad has been working on our door and gorilla glued some tiles to it. Two fell off so he reglued them (while the door was on it's hinges). One falls off, shatters, I clean up the pieces and wipe the glue off the floor. Go in my room after making myself some food.
He comes storming it, telling me I have an attitude problem (so, okay, I clashed around when cleaning). Yelling at me for missing ONE piece of tile underneath the cabinet. For not cleaning up everyone else's food shit that they should have done before. That was there before I started cleaning mine. I tell him that he pissed me off by leaving dirty dishes in a box on my fucking chair and his excuse was that he didn't want my mom to clean them.
Oh, and apparently it's okay to do that because I had "food on my desk". I look around, see a cup with juice and a plate with two toothpicks from the food I just ate. I ask him what food and he says "The plate with crumbs!"
...
So, whatever. I don't cry in front of him. I go back in the kitchen and clean the rest of the damn dishes. Still clashing shit around. MY BAD I'M SO SORRY I HAVE AN ATTITUDE PROBLEM.
Go back in my room and he comes in to my doorway and says "You can drive your car wherever, whenever. I don't care anymore." (Why?) "Just don't worry about it."
Why, oh my brothers, do my parents FUCK with my head?
I've worked so hard to not feel depressed and it's really wearing on me.
My heart is sinking and I hate this feeling.
I hate going to a party where I'm supposed to have fun with friends,
and I end up leaving. I drove to Kevin's last night and ended up staying
because I couldn't stop crying/I couldn't drive.
Again, Melody, I'm so. so. so. so sorry.
I couldn't even sleep well or stay there very long this morning cause I was paranoid that my parents were going to drive by Mel's, then drive to Kevin's (again). Driving there I was paranoid that they were somehow following me.
I'm still so upset that my stomach is in knots.
This isn't right?
Kevin is getting fed up with it.
He tells me to call Social Services, but
what good will that do? I'm not being physically abused.
And even if they do act, where will I go?
Foster care? Fuck that. I'd rather live on my own.
Anyway, I'm going to plant cucumbers today!
And look through the Veg Bible to mark recipes and stuff.
And I'm actually going to go through my drawers,
and do my English homework.
Sigh.
I hope everyone has a lovely Sunday. ♥
And, I gotta say, it's probably one of the best veg cookbooks I've ever read.
Not only does it give you a huge array of recipes, but it tells you about
the nutritional facts, different types of the foods you're going to be eating, et cetera.
I love it.
I wanna steal it from the library, too, but I'm not...
Ah, anyway. Maybe I should actually update.
I baked a cake and made some fries and put my dishes in the sink with water/soap in them.
We have a "rule" that if you cook, you clean your stuff (and everyone else's stuff). Which I think is ridiculous because it seems to only apply to whenever I cook. But, whatever.
So, Kevin and Matt show up and I get excited and leave with them without cleaning my dishes. MY BAD. Okay, I know. I messed that one up. Whoops. We come back and are sitting around outside hanging out and my dad comes up and is like "Will you take 15 minutes to clean out the box on your chair?" Leaving me a bit confused. After Kevin and Matt leave I go in my room to find my dirty dishes stacked on each other along with a half-empty container with grape juice (that I was supposed to refill) sitting in a cardboard box on my chair. What? Exactly.
So, whatever, I'm a little pissed but I go and I clean up my dishes and put them away.
Dad has been working on our door and gorilla glued some tiles to it. Two fell off so he reglued them (while the door was on it's hinges). One falls off, shatters, I clean up the pieces and wipe the glue off the floor. Go in my room after making myself some food.
He comes storming it, telling me I have an attitude problem (so, okay, I clashed around when cleaning). Yelling at me for missing ONE piece of tile underneath the cabinet. For not cleaning up everyone else's food shit that they should have done before. That was there before I started cleaning mine. I tell him that he pissed me off by leaving dirty dishes in a box on my fucking chair and his excuse was that he didn't want my mom to clean them.
Oh, and apparently it's okay to do that because I had "food on my desk". I look around, see a cup with juice and a plate with two toothpicks from the food I just ate. I ask him what food and he says "The plate with crumbs!"
...
So, whatever. I don't cry in front of him. I go back in the kitchen and clean the rest of the damn dishes. Still clashing shit around. MY BAD I'M SO SORRY I HAVE AN ATTITUDE PROBLEM.
Go back in my room and he comes in to my doorway and says "You can drive your car wherever, whenever. I don't care anymore." (Why?) "Just don't worry about it."
Why, oh my brothers, do my parents FUCK with my head?
I've worked so hard to not feel depressed and it's really wearing on me.
My heart is sinking and I hate this feeling.
I hate going to a party where I'm supposed to have fun with friends,
and I end up leaving. I drove to Kevin's last night and ended up staying
because I couldn't stop crying/I couldn't drive.
Again, Melody, I'm so. so. so. so sorry.
I couldn't even sleep well or stay there very long this morning cause I was paranoid that my parents were going to drive by Mel's, then drive to Kevin's (again). Driving there I was paranoid that they were somehow following me.
I'm still so upset that my stomach is in knots.
This isn't right?
Kevin is getting fed up with it.
He tells me to call Social Services, but
what good will that do? I'm not being physically abused.
And even if they do act, where will I go?
Foster care? Fuck that. I'd rather live on my own.
Anyway, I'm going to plant cucumbers today!
And look through the Veg Bible to mark recipes and stuff.
And I'm actually going to go through my drawers,
and do my English homework.
Sigh.
I hope everyone has a lovely Sunday. ♥