24 hours
my last 24 hours have been more or less
hell.
i dont know why my mother feels the need to ruin every one of my nights.
last night before the improv show, she calls me and chews me out for about ten minutes for stupid shit. "you've been spending too much time at the fire house" "you're not making the safety of you siblings a higher priority" "don't you know that if you don't take care of your car, you could kill everyone inside, and the blood is on your hands?"
no shit, sherlock.
but i don't have to worry about that.
i've got enough blood on my hands as it is.
my night from then on was shot to stars.
so i stayed the night at the fire house because i had my State EMT final today.
good God, i did perfect!
i got an 85 on the written test, and a perfect score on every one of my practical stations.
except one.
the proctor was in a really pissy mood and marked me down two points (for things that weren't even my fault for that matter!) and failed me. so i have to go back next week and redo that station.
asshole.
so i call my mom when we get back to the fire house.
and she yells at me again because next weekend was supposed to be our "family christmas shopping day" and "you're not spending enough time at home."
Oh! i'm sorry i can't be perfect.
she wonders why i spend so much time at the fire house, but she never looks past her own nose. it's moments like that. moments that make me want to run away and never come back. i know that from reading this you can't hear it, but the way she talks to me makes me feel more hated than anything i've ever felt before. she tells me that i don't want to be a part of this family anymore. i have half a mind to leave and never come back, but it's the fact that i still want to be a part of this family that keeps me from doing so.
bryant came to pick me up from the firehouse, and about half way home, i see the Company 2 command unit going down the road and i told bryant to follow the truck. he threw a fit, but kept on driving, cursing at me the whole time. "what's so important? tell me what's going on!" a fire truck squeels by. do you not see the fricking fire trucks?!
so we finally end up in a neighborhood and there's a kitchen fire blazing at the other end of the drive way. i jump out of the car and start pulling and hooking up lines so the other fire fighters actually have something to put it out with. bryant drives off.
after a while, i'm finally able to get a ride home from one of the guys on the scene. i arrive and bryant tells me to call mom.
wonderful. i'm about to get my ass chewed off and spat back out at me again.
so i call and a few minutes later and brushing the chewed up pieces of my own ass off of myself.
"what the hell do you think you were doing? you're not allowed to do that! you were off duty! what you did was wrong. wrong!"
oh no. what i did was very, very right.
i'm bound by my duty to act, which basically states that i am to render help where needed; that if something is going down and i'm there, i have to act.
no, i was not off duty. paid fire fighters have set duty. paid EMTs have set duty. i'm a volunteer. i am always on duty, and my duty ends when i die.
"well i'm going to talk to your chief"
no worries. i already talked to him. i also talked to the EMS captain and the rescue sargent. hell, i even talked to the little dude fromt the red cross that shows up to this stuff.
so here i wait. waiting for my mom to come home, and trying to think of what i could possibly say. i think i have a good idea. but i'm also backed by the fact that i am on the right side of this situation.
so she'll be home any second...
and i hope to see you all at my funeral ; )
hell.
i dont know why my mother feels the need to ruin every one of my nights.
last night before the improv show, she calls me and chews me out for about ten minutes for stupid shit. "you've been spending too much time at the fire house" "you're not making the safety of you siblings a higher priority" "don't you know that if you don't take care of your car, you could kill everyone inside, and the blood is on your hands?"
no shit, sherlock.
but i don't have to worry about that.
i've got enough blood on my hands as it is.
my night from then on was shot to stars.
so i stayed the night at the fire house because i had my State EMT final today.
good God, i did perfect!
i got an 85 on the written test, and a perfect score on every one of my practical stations.
except one.
the proctor was in a really pissy mood and marked me down two points (for things that weren't even my fault for that matter!) and failed me. so i have to go back next week and redo that station.
asshole.
so i call my mom when we get back to the fire house.
and she yells at me again because next weekend was supposed to be our "family christmas shopping day" and "you're not spending enough time at home."
Oh! i'm sorry i can't be perfect.
she wonders why i spend so much time at the fire house, but she never looks past her own nose. it's moments like that. moments that make me want to run away and never come back. i know that from reading this you can't hear it, but the way she talks to me makes me feel more hated than anything i've ever felt before. she tells me that i don't want to be a part of this family anymore. i have half a mind to leave and never come back, but it's the fact that i still want to be a part of this family that keeps me from doing so.
bryant came to pick me up from the firehouse, and about half way home, i see the Company 2 command unit going down the road and i told bryant to follow the truck. he threw a fit, but kept on driving, cursing at me the whole time. "what's so important? tell me what's going on!" a fire truck squeels by. do you not see the fricking fire trucks?!
so we finally end up in a neighborhood and there's a kitchen fire blazing at the other end of the drive way. i jump out of the car and start pulling and hooking up lines so the other fire fighters actually have something to put it out with. bryant drives off.
after a while, i'm finally able to get a ride home from one of the guys on the scene. i arrive and bryant tells me to call mom.
wonderful. i'm about to get my ass chewed off and spat back out at me again.
so i call and a few minutes later and brushing the chewed up pieces of my own ass off of myself.
"what the hell do you think you were doing? you're not allowed to do that! you were off duty! what you did was wrong. wrong!"
oh no. what i did was very, very right.
i'm bound by my duty to act, which basically states that i am to render help where needed; that if something is going down and i'm there, i have to act.
no, i was not off duty. paid fire fighters have set duty. paid EMTs have set duty. i'm a volunteer. i am always on duty, and my duty ends when i die.
"well i'm going to talk to your chief"
no worries. i already talked to him. i also talked to the EMS captain and the rescue sargent. hell, i even talked to the little dude fromt the red cross that shows up to this stuff.
so here i wait. waiting for my mom to come home, and trying to think of what i could possibly say. i think i have a good idea. but i'm also backed by the fact that i am on the right side of this situation.
so she'll be home any second...
and i hope to see you all at my funeral ; )