June 21st, 2004

this is me

let's get wasted. you and me.

So I'm back.

I don't feel much like explaining, but I never will if I don't do it now... so here it goes.

We made record time getting to West Virginia: 4:10 AM CST to 3:45 PM EST. I went straight to bed (where I read more than slept).

So from Monday through Friday, I had a pretty good time. I got along with everyone, I liked the place, I attempted to tan. Considering how much cloud cover Beverly gets (something like seventh cloudiest in the USA), I did pretty well. I read. I slept.


My mother hadn't been getting much in the way of sleep during that week, which I can attest to, since I slept next to her. (Hey, you try sleeping alone, in the pitch black, with absolutely no noise. City boy? Me? Hell yeah.) She had been complaining of "dizziness" for several days, so when she began to get dizzy even standing up and sitting down, she told my Grandparents. And Aunt Joyce.

Aunt Jo is, to put it lightly, a conundrum. My grandmother likes her, mainly due to how she moved back to help out with everything, but nobody else likes her. She dislikes anyone who does not talk (and doesn't believe my liking of foreign languages is appropriate, since I "don't talk" - hey, I might not talk to YOU, bitch, but that doesn't mean I don't talk to everyone else). She dislikes teenagers. She dislikes males. Thus, she absolutely despises me.

Aunt Jo brought my mother to the hospital. I had a fairly good time reading and writing while she was off, though I did do a fair bit of worrying - nowhere near as much as my grandparents, though. I was ecstatic when she got back: finally, I can get away from people who can't hear me!

My mother and I decided to go up to the trailer (think "guest house." Then think "mold-covered, spider-infested, dusty, halfway fallen-down compost heap," and there you have it) for bed. We began to say our goodnights... and then Aunt Jo asked my mother, in a completely serious tone of voice, "Will he [referring to me] be willing to come down in the middle of the night if you need him to?"

Oh, that pissed me off. I slapped down the water jug on the counter and asked, in a loud, cold voice, "Excuse me, but did you just insinuate that I would not take care of my mother?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I did."

I was steaming. I picked up the water jug and my book and began to head out the door. Before I left, Joyce told my mother - beyond my back and in a loud voice, no less! - "Well, at least I don't have a problem child."

I snapped.

Basically, it was ten straight minutes of yelling. Now, my yelling voice is what other people would call their normal speaking voice... but sweet Jesus, when I get furious - when my adrenaline begins pumping - I am fucking Lucifer himself, man. I do nothing that anyone could possibly take offense to: no cursing, no hitting, no insulting of mothers. It's like a good book, or a movie or something - a fucking piece of art.

Back to the subject at hand. We were fighting, my mother got involved, and then my grandmother yelled at us all, telling us to shut up. We did. Joyce left the room, my mother pretty much disowned her, and we came upon the decision that if she was feeling up to it, on Monday (that would be today), we would leave. Joyce overheard all of this, came back into the room, and asked, "What did I say?"

We told her. She said that she objected to the "look in my eyes," and a response I had given her earlier, about how my mother was feeling - "I don't know; she hasn't mentioned it." My "aunt" is a cunt. End.

We left today. My mother is still sick - some inner-ear infection - and we still got back here by 8:00 this evening. Ohio was annoying, as usual; Indiana was rainy and even worse than normal. Stupid 80/94.

At a "service area" (cough rest stop cough) in the middle of Indiana, we saw some Amish. I don't know why that makes me so happy. It just does. They were inside the stop; some were circled around a vending machine, buying some sort of a drink, while they chatted in Dutch. It was an exciting moment.

I have some minor bug bites (25 or so), a reasonable tan (arms and legs), and good lord, I am glad I'm home.

I got my report card. And read 11 and a half books. The rest of this entry is random pointlessness, so feel free to skip if you'd care to.

English 3 Acc: A
US History AP: B
Adv. Alg/Trig: C
Chemistry 2: A
French 3: B
Italian 1: A
Phys Ed: A

Semester GPA: 3.6667
Cumulative: 3.1471
Rank: 158 out of 489

Not bad.

Books read (in order; reviews to come... sometime in the next two weeks):
Cosm by Gregory Benford; 370 pages
Blind Run by Patricia Lewin; 332 pages
The Lamplighter by Anthony O'Neill; 418 pages
Crystal Sage by Kara Dalkey; 266 pages
Sir Apropos of Nothing by Peter David; 647 pages
Liberty Falling by Nevada Barr; 343 pages
Enchantment by Orson Scott Card; 415 pages
The Alienist by Caleb Carr; 597 pages
The Angel of Darkness by Caleb Carr; 747 pages
The Amulet of Samarkand by Jonathan Stroud; 462 pages
East by Edith Pattou; 494 pages
Out of Sight by T.J. MacGregor; 213 out of 384 pages

That would be a total of 5304 pages. Not as much as the 10,000 I had planned (watching 11 episodes of Buffy definitely didn't help out my reading at all). Maybe next year... if we go. Who knows?

I need someone to lust/love/crush over/etc.

Summer has begun.
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