I wrote this two days ago, but then the internet crashed....
I don’t understand why all of my Microsoft Word settings decided to change on me. Still, it provided a distraction, and for that I am thankful. I doubt the settings will stay this way, but I don’t really care right now. Ahh…I had note formatting. Well, it’s normal now, I guess.
I was ready to take ‘Stina home. She’d been hanging out at my house since she doesn’t have any major finals going on tomorrow. We’d had fun: a little Abridged, a little dig through Caitlin’s stuff, a little shopping (that was before we’d gotten home). My sister had come home in the meantime (she made cookies with her friend and gave one to both me and Christina), and therefore, my car, Jim, was home. I was all ready to take my dad’s car, but ‘Stina said she wanted to take Jim for old times’ sake. I agreed that this was a good idea. Cass didn’t.
I’ve taken Cassidy to a lot of places. She couldn’t drive for three years when I could. I drove her around most of the time (I mean, there were times when I didn’t, but there were plenty of times when I did). After awhile, I gave up charging her. There was no point. She just bitched. Once, I drove her over an hour to New River so she could go to a friend’s birthday. I had to drive back, too. I can’t remember if I picked her up after the party: I dunno, and it doesn’t really matter. The point is, for who knows how much gas and two or three hours of my time, she paid me with a Starbucks. Less than four dollars.
And now, I’ve taken my car out twice. I’ve spent under ten dollars of gas. UNDER TEN. When I go to get the key for Jim to drive ‘Stina home, Cass starts bitching about how I’d never paid her back. She starts bitching about how I can’t drive the car and on and on and on. She embarrassed me in front of one of my best friends.
So, I hand her a five. I figure it’s worth it to relive the memories with ‘Stina. SHE BITCHES AT ME ABOUT HOW I’LL OWE HER MORE MONEY AFTER I TAKE ‘STINA HOME AND PICK UP DAD FROM WORK. PICK UP DAD FROM WORK. I give up, take the five back (she was lucky to get it in the first place), and take Dad’s car.
So I try, for the umpteenth time, to explain my situation to Dad. I try to explain why I can never drive Jim. I try to explain that Cass always wins the arguments. I don’t want to fight with my sister. I don’t see her enough anymore to have the drama. I find that it’s better to let her win and stay as close as we are. Honestly, I don’t hold all of this car stuff against her that much. I’ve been the nice sister for years; she rarely does me any favors, and I pretty much bow to her every whim. It’s kind of fun to be such a good older sister.
On top of that, I used to have anger management issues. My parents were good enough to train me out of it. So, now I try to avoid the situations that could cause me to manage my anger incorrectly. Understandable, I think. It makes sense to me.
My dad calls me a martyr.
I refuse to fight and stand up to her, he says. The car is mine, he says, and I just must not be aggressive enough to be able to handle my own belongings.
He says I’m making him the “badguy.” Clearly, I’m allotting him all the blame.
You know what I have never done? I’ve never blamed this mess on him by saying that it’s his fault because he hasn’t gotten a third car. Oh, sure, I’ve voiced that it would clear up the mess. It would. But, I’ve never said that the fact we don’t have another car makes it his fault.
I understand that another car is a financial drag. I’ve offered to pay for part of the insurance once I get a job over the summer. It’s not like someone asked me to offer. I’m really trying my best to find solutions to this problem.
But my sister doesn’t listen to me. My dad won’t see my perspective. My mom has no influence over my dad (she’s being so cool about all of this: she actually talked to her dad’s wife (Lee) about borrowing Lee’s dad’s car while he is out of town so she can drive that and I can drive her car!). And I am not being a martyr. But I’m walking a thin line: if I get angry at Cass, I get “driving privileges” taken away; if I don’t get angry at Cass, I’m blamed for not putting up enough of a fight. And when there are alternatives for me to take (such as driving Mom’s car while Mom drives her stepgrandfather’s truck-she doesn’t feel as comfortable having me drive his truck, whatever), then I’m going to take them. I’m not being a martyr. I’m just trying to do the right thing. I’m trying to have a month where no one fights, because the last thing I want to do before I go back to college is tear a hole in the family.
Does that make me a martyr? I guess, maybe it does. But, it’s selfish, too. And it’s not like I’m doing it to get attention. Dad puts words in my mouth and changes my tone of voice to better suit what he wants to think I’m saying.
Maybe this kind of thing is why I cry so much more in Phoenix than in Tucson. I don’t know what to do and no one has the means to help me. I’ve almost exhausted everything I have. And because I’ve reached my limit, I’ve exploded a little at Dad. Chances of getting another car for the summer are, therefore, dwindling.
On another note, I learned my eye is worse than suspected. I’m on several antibiotics.
When I was younger, I was a horrible hypochondriac. My parents eventually stopped taking into consideration the possibility that I was actually sick.
Eventually, I stopped telling them when things were wrong unless they got really bad. But, then they’d just think it was Caitlin being Caitlin. Oh, well. Most of the time, they were right. It was just me being me. I’d call it an overall successful method of parenting, but sometimes it results in stuff like this.
Hopefully, it’ll get better soon.
On a happy note, I’m getting new glasses!!! My eye prescription really hasn’t changed, meaning my eyesight is really good!!! I’m not having my allergic reactions in my cornea because I figured out the problem!!! My teeth are pretty good!!! I get to visit my old orchestra class tomorrow!!! I don’t have to do schoolwork as it is break!!! I love my family!!! I got a kickass iPod player stereo/radio/CD player for Hannukkah!!! I’m pretty healthy (a little sick with a cold, whatever)!!! I have a new purse (Hannukkah)!!! There’s about 27 ways to spell Chanukah!!! I love my socks!!! I didn’t get into a car accident today!!! Hooray!!!
I was ready to take ‘Stina home. She’d been hanging out at my house since she doesn’t have any major finals going on tomorrow. We’d had fun: a little Abridged, a little dig through Caitlin’s stuff, a little shopping (that was before we’d gotten home). My sister had come home in the meantime (she made cookies with her friend and gave one to both me and Christina), and therefore, my car, Jim, was home. I was all ready to take my dad’s car, but ‘Stina said she wanted to take Jim for old times’ sake. I agreed that this was a good idea. Cass didn’t.
I’ve taken Cassidy to a lot of places. She couldn’t drive for three years when I could. I drove her around most of the time (I mean, there were times when I didn’t, but there were plenty of times when I did). After awhile, I gave up charging her. There was no point. She just bitched. Once, I drove her over an hour to New River so she could go to a friend’s birthday. I had to drive back, too. I can’t remember if I picked her up after the party: I dunno, and it doesn’t really matter. The point is, for who knows how much gas and two or three hours of my time, she paid me with a Starbucks. Less than four dollars.
And now, I’ve taken my car out twice. I’ve spent under ten dollars of gas. UNDER TEN. When I go to get the key for Jim to drive ‘Stina home, Cass starts bitching about how I’d never paid her back. She starts bitching about how I can’t drive the car and on and on and on. She embarrassed me in front of one of my best friends.
So, I hand her a five. I figure it’s worth it to relive the memories with ‘Stina. SHE BITCHES AT ME ABOUT HOW I’LL OWE HER MORE MONEY AFTER I TAKE ‘STINA HOME AND PICK UP DAD FROM WORK. PICK UP DAD FROM WORK. I give up, take the five back (she was lucky to get it in the first place), and take Dad’s car.
So I try, for the umpteenth time, to explain my situation to Dad. I try to explain why I can never drive Jim. I try to explain that Cass always wins the arguments. I don’t want to fight with my sister. I don’t see her enough anymore to have the drama. I find that it’s better to let her win and stay as close as we are. Honestly, I don’t hold all of this car stuff against her that much. I’ve been the nice sister for years; she rarely does me any favors, and I pretty much bow to her every whim. It’s kind of fun to be such a good older sister.
On top of that, I used to have anger management issues. My parents were good enough to train me out of it. So, now I try to avoid the situations that could cause me to manage my anger incorrectly. Understandable, I think. It makes sense to me.
My dad calls me a martyr.
I refuse to fight and stand up to her, he says. The car is mine, he says, and I just must not be aggressive enough to be able to handle my own belongings.
He says I’m making him the “badguy.” Clearly, I’m allotting him all the blame.
You know what I have never done? I’ve never blamed this mess on him by saying that it’s his fault because he hasn’t gotten a third car. Oh, sure, I’ve voiced that it would clear up the mess. It would. But, I’ve never said that the fact we don’t have another car makes it his fault.
I understand that another car is a financial drag. I’ve offered to pay for part of the insurance once I get a job over the summer. It’s not like someone asked me to offer. I’m really trying my best to find solutions to this problem.
But my sister doesn’t listen to me. My dad won’t see my perspective. My mom has no influence over my dad (she’s being so cool about all of this: she actually talked to her dad’s wife (Lee) about borrowing Lee’s dad’s car while he is out of town so she can drive that and I can drive her car!). And I am not being a martyr. But I’m walking a thin line: if I get angry at Cass, I get “driving privileges” taken away; if I don’t get angry at Cass, I’m blamed for not putting up enough of a fight. And when there are alternatives for me to take (such as driving Mom’s car while Mom drives her stepgrandfather’s truck-she doesn’t feel as comfortable having me drive his truck, whatever), then I’m going to take them. I’m not being a martyr. I’m just trying to do the right thing. I’m trying to have a month where no one fights, because the last thing I want to do before I go back to college is tear a hole in the family.
Does that make me a martyr? I guess, maybe it does. But, it’s selfish, too. And it’s not like I’m doing it to get attention. Dad puts words in my mouth and changes my tone of voice to better suit what he wants to think I’m saying.
Maybe this kind of thing is why I cry so much more in Phoenix than in Tucson. I don’t know what to do and no one has the means to help me. I’ve almost exhausted everything I have. And because I’ve reached my limit, I’ve exploded a little at Dad. Chances of getting another car for the summer are, therefore, dwindling.
On another note, I learned my eye is worse than suspected. I’m on several antibiotics.
When I was younger, I was a horrible hypochondriac. My parents eventually stopped taking into consideration the possibility that I was actually sick.
Eventually, I stopped telling them when things were wrong unless they got really bad. But, then they’d just think it was Caitlin being Caitlin. Oh, well. Most of the time, they were right. It was just me being me. I’d call it an overall successful method of parenting, but sometimes it results in stuff like this.
Hopefully, it’ll get better soon.
On a happy note, I’m getting new glasses!!! My eye prescription really hasn’t changed, meaning my eyesight is really good!!! I’m not having my allergic reactions in my cornea because I figured out the problem!!! My teeth are pretty good!!! I get to visit my old orchestra class tomorrow!!! I don’t have to do schoolwork as it is break!!! I love my family!!! I got a kickass iPod player stereo/radio/CD player for Hannukkah!!! I’m pretty healthy (a little sick with a cold, whatever)!!! I have a new purse (Hannukkah)!!! There’s about 27 ways to spell Chanukah!!! I love my socks!!! I didn’t get into a car accident today!!! Hooray!!!