This is what happens when kim thinks.

Dec 17, 2005 22:46

I know i said i hate christmas, and i still do.

we were on our way to fudruckers tonight, which is 7 minutes maybe from my house, well 20 minutes later we get there. Dad wanted to see christmas lights, and i couldn't help but smile a few times, i must admit the lights were pretty, and cruzeing around with classic rock playing and laughing with mom about tacky yards was nice. it got me thinking about how i WANT to like x-mas, like i want to believe in something, degrassie furthered my thinking, because it was about a bad kid and his girlfriend who is helping him find jesus.

the drive would have been alot better if dad wasnt drunk. i hate riding in the car with him when he drinks, i hate riding in the car with anyone when they drink, its nerve racking. but he is bad about it, i mean even drinking on the way. he couldnt even remember what turn to take to get home, i mean hes only lived in the same house for 20 years. His drinking problem never really got to my brother, it never bugged him like it does me. maybe thats because it only got to be a major problem after my brother left, so hes clueless to the matter. i know his drinking isn't because of me, but i mean Travis leaves, and the drinking gets worse, it kinda makes me feel as if im not anough, i know thats not the case, but still. Dad wondered why i got an attitude with him when he couldnt figure out what thing to push for water at the soda fountain.Dad is also clueless.

I really want to start doing something that relives my stress, what works the best is singing, but im to self conscious about that. another thing thats probabley better then that is the beach, but its to cold. i want to be creative, like pick up art. I want to pass. I guess in all i want it to be a new year, a new semester, a new kim.

well maybe not that drastic, I like me, i'm kim, no worries im not changing, just a few minor things that need to be tweaked, i seem to be not letting myself be happy lately, and that's going to change.
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