I think my dad's drinking a lot more than usual. But then, I don't really know what "usual" is, as it's pretty hard to tell when he's drunk, sometimes he's pretty spacey anyway (like tonight I was sure he was drunk but Mom said he was just exhausted). He's been going to this bar called Shooters a lot. Which maybe isn't a bad thing... my dad's never really had friends, aside from Jerry and a couple others in Pennsylvania, and his referee buddies - mostly just colleagues. I guess at Shooters there are friends. And it's sports, sports, sports, of course, and what good is football without a beer?
I guess at nearly 25 I shouldn't really give a shit whether my dad's drinking or not. It's the driving that bugs me. Because he's already lost his license once. And he needs to travel for work, especially now since he's only doing consulting and is gone more than he's home. And no work would really fuck things up.
No, maybe it isn't the driving that's bothering me. Maybe it's the fact that it becomes more and more blatantly clear that I inherited his addictive personality. After all, come home for the holidays to find, once again, that my ratio of kicked addictions to current addictions has gone out of whack. Usually 2:1. Now 1:2. Wouldn't it be nice to get it to 3:0?
I have two New Year's resolutions.
1. COMMIT. 2. Live like characters out of Frances Hodgson Burnett. (Well, maybe not Little Lord Fauntleroy. Although I haven't read it, so I can't be sure.)
AND speaking of New Year's. Well, you know how sometimes there are seasonal crushes? People who only show up on your radar at a certain time of year, like how I always want to marry Erik (virtualanrchist) on the 4th of July because of that nostalgia brought on by fireworks and how I can remember being thirteen and thinking I'd like to watch them with him, and maybe get married too. :P
Well, there's one that comes around every Christmastime. And right now my options for New Year's Eve are very, very limited - but include one that would put me very close to the object of my seasonal affections. But I've spent a lot of time there lately and if I show up without the person I'm usually there with, it will be very suspect. Obvious, you might say. And hopeless. So I should probably stay away. But I can't think of anything I'd rather do than go over there and play cribbage and Pictionary and take smoke breaks and... NO. I will not succumb to my Christmas crush. I will not go there for New Year's, and I will go back to my general, non-season-specific crush. It's not like there's hope for either anyway. Might as well stick with the non-parolee who's got all her teeth, right?
My mom just woke me up - which she should have, since it's 12:30. (Up late reading.) I was dreaming about sneaking out of weird classroom/museum buildings (where I was losing lottery-type games) to take smoke breaks and get high. And so when I hear my mom's "Moo!" I freak out - shit, don't let her come in and wake me up, I'm high as a kite! And then realize no, no, wait, that can't be right, I haven't smoked for ages and I've been asleep for several hours now...
Anyway, in traditional Maria fashion, when she comes in I moan, "Nooooo, I was dreaming about elevators... and metro cards... noooooooooo!"
If I ever get married (HAHAHA) they'll probably divorce me after hearing one too many of those morning "Nooooooo"s.
So I'm watching patinage artistique on the French channel (yeah, we're THAT far north). It's one of my favorite things to watch, so you can hear the announcers say stuff like Ooh la la, treepluh fleep, doobluh loop! - Which doesn't sound half as good in English when they say "Triple flip, double loop, well-executed." Plus all the commercials en français - just cool shit - I remember the time I saw the Mac commercial - Imaginay les possibilitays!
Anyway, I've been watching for like an hour and a half now, and then my mom comes up and is asking about what we're doing for supper. She whispers something.
Me: Что? [Russian, pronounced shto] Then, realizing she won't respond to Russian, try Polish: Co? [tso] Mom: Not tso, tsa! I think she's correcting my Polish. Confused: Ca?!? Mom: Yes, ca! Me: Я не слышу! Я не понимаю! [Russian, "I don't hear! I don't understand!"] Mom: Tsa! Like, PiZZA!
I think too many languages at once is a bad thing. Plus I'm not entirely sure why I keep coming out with Russian phrases - I can go ages without saying anything and then all of a sudden, like yesterday playing Bananagrams I asked if we were playing again in Russian... don't think anyone noticed - it just kinda comes out of my mouth sometimes.
Reiterate: I think too many languages at once is a bad thing. I just almost answered the phone with bonjour.
I want to get my uterus removed so I don't have to deal with this nonsense. If it's possible to die from period-related blood loss, I recommend you start writing eulogies and buying black dress clothes. BLARG.
(My mom emailed me when I was in Brattleboro to inform me that she'd used the word blarg and missed me. I didn't realize blarg was one of my catch phrases. Apparently I'm a trend-setter.)
So, yeah, the past few days were spent gloriously enjoying self in Brattleboro with Courtney (aenohe). We had Chinese and watched some of Harry Potter 3 with a bunch of people @Marlboro, although I was very tired and we left after Hermione punched Malfoy. Next day she wrote her psychotherapies final paper on me (wtf!) because William whatshisname was boring and I make a good enough case study to fill up 20 pages. We made up fake therapy sessions while lounging on king-sized bed in my Super 8 hotel room with Joëlle (artichokes), having very nice paper-distracting conversations, which was a surprise, considering C had described both me and J as shy and awkward, haha. But I figured if you've got an umlaut in your name, you've gotta be pretty cool, and was not disappointed. And Friday C & I went to the Chelsea with her prospective, had breakfast, played Bananagrams, blah blah blah YOU REALLY DON'T CARE ABOUT MY MINI-VACATION AND I DON'T KNOW WHY I'M WRITING ABOUT IT.
I kinda wish I was still there, chillaxin' with Courtney, rather than here waiting to die from blood loss while my mom insists on my eating red meat and split pea soup, lest I pass out from lack of iron. Blarg.
"A woman has a close male friend. This means that he is probably interested in her, which is why he hangs around so much. She sees him strictly as a friend. This always starts out with, you're a great guy, but I don't like you in that way. This is roughly the equivalent for the guy of going to a job interview and the company saying, You have a great resume, you have all the qualifications we are looking for, but we're not going to hire you. We will, however, use your resume as the basis for comparison for all other applicants. But, we're going to hire somebody who is far less qualified and is probably an alcoholic. And if he doesn't work out, we'll hire somebody else, but still not you. In fact, we will never hire you. But we will call you from time to time to complain about the person that we hired. "
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If it's possible to die from period-related blood loss, I recommend you start writing eulogies and buying black dress clothes. BLARG.