Things Just Irk Me Today
Feb. 1st, 2005 04:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tabular_rasaMom's so BITCHY all the time.
I almost wish she would stop working. She comes home and she just is NASTY because she's always tired, she's always stressed out, and-- maybe I'm being chauvinistic, but-- she gets all bent out of shape about doing the things that she's done all along, and we've come to expect her to do. I ask what time dinner is-- not even impatiently-- and she blows up about how she JUST GOT HOME, etc, etc. Also, if I want the computer, which I've always wanted immediately after school since about 8th grade, she blows up about how SHE just got home and SHE wants it until who knows when. Then when I finally get it, she stands behind me and watches me and WON'T LEAVE THE FREAKING ROOM.
Now she's pissed off because apparently I didn't tell her when I could do a rehearsal with my accompaniest, when I TOLD her to schedule one with Tory and tell me when it was so I could just work around that one-- but NO, she just doesn't schedule one for Tory, and then snaps in this terribly mocking voice about it was because I said *she makes mocking voice* "I don't KNOW when I'm getting out!"
Which is true. I said that. But I didn't screw up my face and say it about ten octaves above the average human hearing range. I think I said it honestly . . . STRESSED OUT. Sheesh. If I mocked her every time SHE stressed out and said something nastily . . .
Gaa . . . there are some times I just can't wait to get out of here.
I was in a good mood until that, sheesh . . .
I finished my screenplay. It ended up 20 pages long, Arial font, size 10 type. Robert says it's the length of a full-length movie. Lol . . .
Nichole started reading it and only got about two pages into it, Andrew read part of it and said it was really good (and I think he wants to read the rest-- now, this is Andrew, who reads real screenplays in his spare time, so this is good ^_^), and Robert and Liz want to read it when I get my copy back (I didn't want to "waste paper"-- though, pff, MY screenplay isn't a waste, lol ^_^).
I feel so loved ^_^
In other good news, we only have eight more poems to write (*sigh* I am not down with all of these poems . . . I am so bad at them, I swear . . . ), and then we have a final project-- which counts as our final exam grade. We can either write eight more poems, a short story, or another screenplay. I think I may write another screenplay-- and then act it out with some people!!!
Hey, how about the famous Reginald scene, Tiffany?
Lol, that might be kind of cheesy . . . with two girls . . . and no actual shooting or blood, lol . . .
MINIMALIST PRODUCTION!!! It's artistic, lol . . . ^_^
In other bad news, I am not making it to State Solo and Ensemble. Is there any way to switch down into Division II this late? I really would rather get a 1st division in a lower category and not go to State my senior year than get my first and only 2nd division in my entire life. It's going to make me cry, I know it is-- and I KNOW it's going to happen . . .
You see, the standards are different this year. I was worried about getting a 1st division in Division I anyway, because I'm just barely okay, but now this year it's SO much stricter.
Plus half the world and their dog is playing my solo. I walk into YHO and like five girls are playing it. Sarah Stutzman is playing it. Becky Rice might also be playing it, as well.
Good God . . .
Also, be afraid. Be very afraid. Our generation has a very high change of growing up to dictate and tyrannize itself. Apparently like no kids our age know anything about the First Amendment, and most think flag burning is illegal or should be, and that the government ought to have the right to censor newspapers.
OH MY GOD!!!
*Sigh* I think I may have something to protest as I grow up, anyway . . . then again, we won't be ruling ourselves for at least 20 more years or so . . . we have to be like 35 to be anything close to near power . . . but so . . . we'll still be oppressing our children! Gaa!
I'll just be the hip old lady who understands the youth, man . . .
Maybe I could lead them. Unite them and become their leader.
Yea for my children of tomorrow.
I almost wish she would stop working. She comes home and she just is NASTY because she's always tired, she's always stressed out, and-- maybe I'm being chauvinistic, but-- she gets all bent out of shape about doing the things that she's done all along, and we've come to expect her to do. I ask what time dinner is-- not even impatiently-- and she blows up about how she JUST GOT HOME, etc, etc. Also, if I want the computer, which I've always wanted immediately after school since about 8th grade, she blows up about how SHE just got home and SHE wants it until who knows when. Then when I finally get it, she stands behind me and watches me and WON'T LEAVE THE FREAKING ROOM.
Now she's pissed off because apparently I didn't tell her when I could do a rehearsal with my accompaniest, when I TOLD her to schedule one with Tory and tell me when it was so I could just work around that one-- but NO, she just doesn't schedule one for Tory, and then snaps in this terribly mocking voice about it was because I said *she makes mocking voice* "I don't KNOW when I'm getting out!"
Which is true. I said that. But I didn't screw up my face and say it about ten octaves above the average human hearing range. I think I said it honestly . . . STRESSED OUT. Sheesh. If I mocked her every time SHE stressed out and said something nastily . . .
Gaa . . . there are some times I just can't wait to get out of here.
I was in a good mood until that, sheesh . . .
I finished my screenplay. It ended up 20 pages long, Arial font, size 10 type. Robert says it's the length of a full-length movie. Lol . . .
Nichole started reading it and only got about two pages into it, Andrew read part of it and said it was really good (and I think he wants to read the rest-- now, this is Andrew, who reads real screenplays in his spare time, so this is good ^_^), and Robert and Liz want to read it when I get my copy back (I didn't want to "waste paper"-- though, pff, MY screenplay isn't a waste, lol ^_^).
I feel so loved ^_^
In other good news, we only have eight more poems to write (*sigh* I am not down with all of these poems . . . I am so bad at them, I swear . . . ), and then we have a final project-- which counts as our final exam grade. We can either write eight more poems, a short story, or another screenplay. I think I may write another screenplay-- and then act it out with some people!!!
Hey, how about the famous Reginald scene, Tiffany?
Lol, that might be kind of cheesy . . . with two girls . . . and no actual shooting or blood, lol . . .
MINIMALIST PRODUCTION!!! It's artistic, lol . . . ^_^
In other bad news, I am not making it to State Solo and Ensemble. Is there any way to switch down into Division II this late? I really would rather get a 1st division in a lower category and not go to State my senior year than get my first and only 2nd division in my entire life. It's going to make me cry, I know it is-- and I KNOW it's going to happen . . .
You see, the standards are different this year. I was worried about getting a 1st division in Division I anyway, because I'm just barely okay, but now this year it's SO much stricter.
Plus half the world and their dog is playing my solo. I walk into YHO and like five girls are playing it. Sarah Stutzman is playing it. Becky Rice might also be playing it, as well.
Good God . . .
Also, be afraid. Be very afraid. Our generation has a very high change of growing up to dictate and tyrannize itself. Apparently like no kids our age know anything about the First Amendment, and most think flag burning is illegal or should be, and that the government ought to have the right to censor newspapers.
OH MY GOD!!!
*Sigh* I think I may have something to protest as I grow up, anyway . . . then again, we won't be ruling ourselves for at least 20 more years or so . . . we have to be like 35 to be anything close to near power . . . but so . . . we'll still be oppressing our children! Gaa!
I'll just be the hip old lady who understands the youth, man . . .
Maybe I could lead them. Unite them and become their leader.
Yea for my children of tomorrow.
