Wee. I should update more.
Some time ago: Jonathan hangs with the girls for the first time in what seems like forever. Other than some stupid driving errors, he gets Amy and Sam there safely. He says very little the whole time, because really, he has nothing *to* say. It depresses him, because he knows he's drifting apart, and that it's to be expected. The constant insistence to go to Keane (Keene? Keane? I don't know, whatever) wore on his nerves.
Last friday: Mom and Jonathan have the worst fight ever. It ends in Jonathan screaming something at Mom, barreling out the car door (we were parked in a restaurant lot) and slamming the door with BOTH hands as hard as he can. He is surprised the window does not shatter. He walks away, and kills 2 hours walking around before walking to work (it was only about a mile from where we were). Jonathan works, and ends up walking home at 11 PM because mom is a bitch and won't give him a ride. Two fucking hours, walking from Lowe's to home.
Saturday: Jonathan has to open. That's right, kids. After walking home the night before, he's up 4 hours later to go to right back to work. Jonathan's punishment for his behavior is that he can't use the car for a week, since he "abandoned" it at the restaurant. To be fair, he left mom and brothers in a very bad situation, because brothers can't drive manual transmission and they had two cars there. Walking back from lunch during work, because of how amazingly exhausted and strungout he is, Jonathan gets hit by a motorcycle. Yes kids. He got hit by a motorcycle crossing the street. More amazing still, other than a nice swollen bruise on his left leg, a friction burn on his elbow, and a bump on his head, Jonathan is absolutely fine. And so are his glasses. They flew off his head and landed on the one place cars AREN'T passing over at 50 mph: on the median. 20 years and counting for no broken bones. Because of how shitty he feels, he cops out of hanging with C, Erin, and the rest. Again, he's sorry guys.
Sunday: Jonathan opens at work again, 7:30 AM. Mom drives him there and back. Work is uneventful, other than him telling his coworkers about the motorcycle. 25% of them laugh, 25% of them call bullshit, 50% of them seem genuinely sorry. His department manager yells at him for not going home after it happened. Mom seems to have calmed down. He feels like death, and can't wait till Monday when he has a day off.
Monday: He spends the day playing video games, finishing up an essay for college apps, and just generally resting up.
Tuesday: Jonathan bikes to work and back, then goes to Diff EQ. It is the first new math material he's had in a year and a half. This will be interesting.
Wednesday: Jonathan has today off too. He's at the library, typing this entry. He marvels at the recovery ability of his body. The friction burn has scabbed up and is going away, the bruise is no longer swollen and only leaves a nasty looking scrape, and the bump on his head is gone. He realizes something: age doesn't mean shit if you get nothing out of the years.
So yeah. Been a rough couple of days... I'm starting to get back on my feet though.
Don't die, motherFUCKERS.
-Junger
Last friday: Mom and Jonathan have the worst fight ever. It ends in Jonathan screaming something at Mom, barreling out the car door (we were parked in a restaurant lot) and slamming the door with BOTH hands as hard as he can. He is surprised the window does not shatter. He walks away, and kills 2 hours walking around before walking to work (it was only about a mile from where we were). Jonathan works, and ends up walking home at 11 PM because mom is a bitch and won't give him a ride. Two fucking hours, walking from Lowe's to home.
Saturday: Jonathan has to open. That's right, kids. After walking home the night before, he's up 4 hours later to go to right back to work. Jonathan's punishment for his behavior is that he can't use the car for a week, since he "abandoned" it at the restaurant. To be fair, he left mom and brothers in a very bad situation, because brothers can't drive manual transmission and they had two cars there. Walking back from lunch during work, because of how amazingly exhausted and strungout he is, Jonathan gets hit by a motorcycle. Yes kids. He got hit by a motorcycle crossing the street. More amazing still, other than a nice swollen bruise on his left leg, a friction burn on his elbow, and a bump on his head, Jonathan is absolutely fine. And so are his glasses. They flew off his head and landed on the one place cars AREN'T passing over at 50 mph: on the median. 20 years and counting for no broken bones. Because of how shitty he feels, he cops out of hanging with C, Erin, and the rest. Again, he's sorry guys.
Sunday: Jonathan opens at work again, 7:30 AM. Mom drives him there and back. Work is uneventful, other than him telling his coworkers about the motorcycle. 25% of them laugh, 25% of them call bullshit, 50% of them seem genuinely sorry. His department manager yells at him for not going home after it happened. Mom seems to have calmed down. He feels like death, and can't wait till Monday when he has a day off.
Monday: He spends the day playing video games, finishing up an essay for college apps, and just generally resting up.
Tuesday: Jonathan bikes to work and back, then goes to Diff EQ. It is the first new math material he's had in a year and a half. This will be interesting.
Wednesday: Jonathan has today off too. He's at the library, typing this entry. He marvels at the recovery ability of his body. The friction burn has scabbed up and is going away, the bruise is no longer swollen and only leaves a nasty looking scrape, and the bump on his head is gone. He realizes something: age doesn't mean shit if you get nothing out of the years.
So yeah. Been a rough couple of days... I'm starting to get back on my feet though.
Don't die, motherFUCKERS.
-Junger