All About G

But before I do that, let’s get an update.

I don’t know how many of you know I use Twitter, but I do, and on it I said I was having payroll problems. Basically, I haven’t got my paycheck from last Friday, and no one knows where it is. What fun. I went down to the office about half an hour ago, and left them a message, because neither payroll coordinators were there… and I just got a phone call. They’re gonna try to sort this out. I really think any department on campus here involving money is full of retards.

On to the rant, because I need to get it off of my chest.

I think, after years of observation, especially as of late, my dad is all talk and no action. Plus he’s a spiteful jerk, but I’ll get to that later.

“What are you talking about?” you wonder.

Well, it’s kind of simple. He’ll say he really wants to do this, or he’ll promise he won’t do that. And then he’ll either not stay true to his word, or he’ll half ass it and then wonder why nothing’s working.

First example: Waaaaaaaay back, in 1998, when we first moved up here, Dad promised me “When we close on the house, I’ll work on qutting.”

We closed on the house that winter. Can anyone do the numbers and tell me how long that’s been?

For those of you who are retarded and fail at life, the answer is going on ten years. TEN YEARS, and he still chain smokes and buys at least a pack of cigarettes a day. That what, $14, being wasted on lung cancer. And he tells me, over and over and over again, “Oh, I’m working on it. I’ve cut down.” Or, “I’ll do it after this happens.” and he puts it off and he puts it off. What, Dad, do you REALLY want cancer that bad? Or do you really not care about that promise you made me. By all rights, I should go ahead and throw away any pack I see. We made a contract a couple of years ago saying that he’d work on quitting and be done by a certain date (that’s LONG GONE) and if he didn’t, I had the right to intervene and make his life miserable.

Next example: Dad tells me in one of my previous posts that he’s working slowly to fix his depression problem.

Well, that’s obviously bullshit too, because I’ve yet to see ANY changes in what you do. You still live in your office, you still eat like shit, you take horrible care of yourself, and you continue to rot your brain with anime and manga. I can’t even have an intelligent conversation with you. My proof? When we’re talking about knees and kinesiology, YOU talk about aliens. You never talk about anything like politics, or science. The only conversations we EVER get into involve the anime you’ve downloading and like and think I’d like too.

Congratulations. You’ve succeeded in making me lose all faith in you.

That’s not even that half of why I’m mad at him either… so now it’s time for my message to Dad.

Get this through your thick skull; you bitching about every little thing isn’t gonna do shit. Stop acting like everything’s on you, because it ISN’T. The rest of us are trying to take care of this in the ways that we can as well. Oh, and by the way, why do you THINK we’re in the situation we’re currently in.

When you bitch to me about how it’s all on you, it’s always on you, this and that, what am I supposed to do? Tell you it isn’t your fault? That would be a lie, because it IS. Look, I don’t know who told you this, but life isn’t a joyride and a cruise to sit back and relax on. Life’s a BITCH, and that means, instead of bitching about it like a little brat, you’re supposed to SUCK IT UP and deal with it.

Among other things, the one thing that pissed me off was your SPITEFUL UNNECESSARY COMMENT. “Sometimes can you just be a daughter.”

As opposed to what, Dad? I AM being your daughter. Get it through your head; I’M NOT YOUR LITTLE GIRL ANYMORE. I’M 18 YEARS OLD, turning 19 in just a couple of months. I’m a sophomore in college with a career goal that I’m striving for. I’M NOT 5. Of course I’m going to talk to you more like a smart adult, because I’m a SMART ADULT NOW. Mom’s accepted it, so why can’t you?

If you’re gonna bitch at me about things that were your fault, don’t expect my sympathy and an “Oh, it’s okay honey. It’s not your fault, you did nothing wrong.” Expect something similar (but in a much more polite manner) to “I told you a million times, life’s a BITCH. QUIT BITCHING FOR FUCKS SAKE AND PULL YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE DEEP CREVICES OF YOUR ASS.”

But for some reason or another, no matter what we seem to talk about or what I tell you, you won’t listen. That’s another thing that pisses me off; YOU WON’T LISTEN. What do you think I am; a retard? It pisses me off even more when you don’t listen to me WHEN I KNOW MORE ABOUT SOMETHING THAN YOU. I remind you of that health thing. Or did you already forget about it.

You’ll probably apologize, AGAIN. You might already have, though that message didn’t show on Skype. Just a “Just wanted to say that I…” Of course, maybe that wasn’t an apology and you aren’t gonna apologize because I’m in “the wrong” even though all I did was state the facts. Oh, and give logical suggestions to your fucking problems that you bitch about 24/7 instead of doing anything about.

You know, at this point, I really can’t take your apology seriously, because it’s just gonna happen AGAIN. You wanna know what to do to solve everything. How about you start by ACTUALLY WORKING ON YOUR FUCKING DEPRESSION BECAUSE AT THIS POINT, IT’S GETTING IN THE FUCKING WAY OF ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING!

And you can say “Oh yea? Well I’m doing this and I’m doing that!” but it’s BULLSHIT. I’m not gonna believe any of it until you PROVE IT. PROVE ME WRONG FOR ONCE DAD! Prove to me that I should have at least a little faith in you after all.

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