Tag Archives: family

Finding A Job… Eventually.

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Ugh… If I have to fill out one more application, I will shoot myself. I have applied to:

Target

Bath and Body Works

Anna’s Linens

Macy’s

Chili’s

Bookman’s

And a bunch of other places I honestly cannot even remember. One plus, I guess, is that I now have my social security number memorised!! And my whole family’s work, home, and cell numbers. And addresses. I am so tired of sitting at home! I have even started voluntarily cleaning!!!! Gasp!! Isn’t this a sign of the Apocalypse, or something??? It’s like I’m a stay at home mom who’s kids are all school age, and I don’t know what to do with myself for those six hours! I watch Maury, and wash dishes, and move furniture around, and everything!!! What. The. Hell!!!

 

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Day 5

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A letter to the one who hurt me the most in 2010.

Dear Ellie,

You need to stop. Just stop. I am 17 years old. You are more then twice that. So why do I always end having to be the adult? Why am I not allowed to go out with my friends, but you’re allowed to come home two hours late, and it’s no big deal? I am sick of raising my sisters. Instead of yelling at me when they don’t get places on time, why don’t you try being a parent for once, and drive them? Instead of going and having a day of goofing off by yourself, why don’t you just stay home, and watch a movie with us? I’m tired of being the one everyone relies on! Everyone else slacks off, and I’m left being the support. Well, maybe once, just once, I want to go and do something normal, like sleep over at a friend’s house, or go to the movies with a friend. But no. It’s considered a crime for me to be the one slacking off. Why don’t I get to do any of the things I should? I’m a perfectly nice kid, i think. I don’t smoke, drink, or have sex. The worst thing i’ve ever done is come home a little later then planned from prom. But while I am forced to stay home, and babysit a kid who’d rather be left alone, you let my sister, who always was the worst one of us, by the way, roam around, hanging out at the park with one other girl, and three boys. Her, who wants those grossly huge ear holes, and purple hair!!!

So, if you’re wondering why after 9 years, I don’t call you ‘mom’, or anything, this is why. You can’t be considered a mom if you do nothing to earn the fact. You didn’t give birth to me, you didn’t raise me, and you don’t love me unconditionally. In return, I withhold that title that my sisters gave to you freely. I know better. You will never, ever be my mother.

Amber McLain

…yeah…

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I Wish I Had Something Profound to Write About…

An adult male chicken, the rooster has a promi...

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Hello, you lovely folk, you! How’s life treating you? Mine was doing well… I finish my paper for American History, I finished my character analysis for Drama… But hen I get to first period. We had to watch a video about food production, which made me never want to eat again, ever. All the poor cows, and chickens… But then we get our formative back. I got a 17/20 on mine, which isn’t something I’d  throw a fit about, except everyone else’s was graded out of 30. So then I was freaking out, thinking I’d got a 17 out of 30, which is bad, even for me. (Shut up, Elena, it is!) So i go up to her, asking if it was right, and instead of catching her mistake (Which she should have, she’s an English teacher, yeah, but still) she just tacks on 2 more points, and sends me on my way. I don’t understand ‘educators’. I really don’t.

From there, my day slowly regresses, because in 2nd period we were talking about courage vs. cowardice, and more then half the class said that if it came down to saving themselves or a two year old, they’d save… themselves. I hate my generation. I think the only people I wouldn’t try to save would have to be my family, excluding kids (excluding my sister, from the excluded kids), and the super bad criminals. The ones who’ve killed lots of people, or raped someone, that kind of thing. self defense, theft, that kind of thing, I don’t think should even be given such a heavy penalty in the first place, because the people who commit those kinds of crimes are usually doing it for their families, and I can’t fault someone who’s trying to provide for their family. Thank god I’m not in politics, people would HATE me! lol…

I love my blog. I love the people I’ve met because of it, I love being able to talk about things and not feel judged, and I love that I can badmouth the hell out of my family and not get in trouble for it. What I do not like, is that now all of a sudden, everyone has a blog. And because of that, everyone is turning it into a competition. The point of blogging is not to have the most views, or anything like that. So when people are constantly ragging on me for not having as many views as them even though I’ve been doing this for two and a half years, it makes me want to kick some certain people in the crotch. Exhibit A- Trici, I don’t care how many views you have. It isn’t just a fun little hobbie for me like it is for some people. Quality, not quantity.

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Because I Enjoy Stealing Fun Stuff From Trici’s Blog

Highwayman Cartouche's Prison Break

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But because I’m impatient, you don’t have to wait ten days to get all of it.

Ten things you want to say to ten different people right now.

  1. I miss you.
  2. I want to hug you until your face falls off.
  3. You’re really, REALLY cute.
  4. I’m sorry we don’t listen to you more. You’re really funny.
  5. I can’t wait until I never have to see your face ever again.
  6. We’re never going to be 100% okay, are we?
  7. One of these days you’re going to tell me i deserve to die, and then it’ll happen.
  8. I lied to you.
  9. If you died, I’d do anything to join you.
  10. I was, too.

Nine things about yourself.

  1. I’m short.
  2. Not all my scars are accidental.
  3. If I had to, I would kill someone.
  4. I like being fat.
  5. I hate when people ask me how I can be so happy with how I look.
  6. I’ve never had a boyfriend.
  7. My first kiss was in the 3rd grade.
  8. When i was little, the only story my mom would tell me before bed was The Highwayman, which is how I justify my weird ideas of love.
  9. I don’t think I love my family.

Eight ways to win your heart.

  1. Hug me.
  2. Don’t be afraid to tell me I’m being an idiot.
  3. Treat special needs people with respect.
  4. Laugh when i do something funny, purposefully or not.
  5. offer to give me a ride home, even if it’s way out of your way.
  6. Compliment my shoes.
  7. Tell me I’m pretty.
  8. Have a good personality.

Seven things that cross your mind a lot.

  1. I think I’m a hypochondriac.
  2. My sister dresses like a whore.
  3. I miss my cheerleading legs.
  4. Glee’s on tonight!
  5. I should paint my toenails.
  6. As soon as she leaves, I’m going to bed.
  7. Whatever she’s yelling about, I hope I don’t get dragged into it.

Six things you wish you’d never done.

  1. Quit cheerleading.
  2. Cut my own hair.
  3. That one time where I went a month without shaving my legs, just to see what happened. (Surprisingly, you couldn’t even see the hairs until the wind started up.)
  4. When I rode the bus home from camp and had to pee the whole time, only to pee my pants as soon as i made it to the bathroom stall.
  5. Every time i’ve ever tried baking.
  6. Every time I’ve ever tried using a crockpot.

Five people who mean a lot.

  1. Willow
  2. Ashlei
  3. Jamie H
  4. Jackson
  5. My mom

Four turn offs.

  1. Assholes.
  2. Socks and sandals.
  3. Picky eaters.
  4. ‘Christmas is evil’ people.

Three turn ons.

  1. Good noses.
  2. Green eyes.
  3. Tall.

Two smileys that describe your life right now.

  1. *o*
  2. -_-

One confession.

  1. I steal.

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The Anniversary

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It is, as of today, nine years since I saw my mom last. Depressing? Not really. I’ve learned to not focus on the negative feelings I have about her leaving me with the worst possible candidate, but on the things that make me love her still and want to make her proud. All anyone seems to remember about her is the crazy woman who never was any good at anything, the teenager who got preggers before she should have. They can’t remember the mom who stayed up all night when I was six to make me both a cake and cupcakes for my sixth birthday, so that all my friends could have a cupcake, but I didn’t have to blow the candles out and get spit all over them. The mom who stormed into the school and had a shouting match with the principle when my teacher told me there was no Santa. Who would read me poetry, and kept me out of school so we could spend the day making ornaments. That is who I remember, and that is who I love. I can’t focus only on the woman who left us with no stable parental figure, or who was convinced she was a witch, and tried to ‘train’ me. Some people get to spend their whole lives with a loving mother. Sure, mine was crazy, and more likely to take me to an adult bookstore, then go to a PTA meeting, sure she would leave us alone at home for hours at a time, or punish us for weird things, but I think she was the best mom I could have asked for. I’d take a flaky witch over the clingy loser I have now, any day.

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Abandonment Issues

In Nothing We Trust

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I am so tired of being virtually incapable to trust people 100%. But whenever someone says something that I’m not sure is sarcastic or not, I take it to heart, whether I want to or not. Like yesterday, when A said that she loved me, and B said she didn’t, I know she was just joking, but I spent the rest of the day wondering what I had done to make her not like me, and what I could do to fix it. I’ve been friends with these people for three years.If I can’t trust them, who the hell can I trust? I’m constantly worried about insulting people that i usually just end up insulting them worse. So in order to prevent this, i refrain from talking to people I don’t know, and then they get the impression that I’m rude, and cold. Or super shy and sweet, depending on what facial expression I have that day. I figure that this is why I don’t like getting close to people. No way to get hurt. In the four years I’ve lived in this house, none of my friends have ever been inside it, and only three know where it is. They all think my aunt is my mom, and no one knows that I never met my birth dad. And these are my closest friends. You guys who read my blog don’t really get just how much it cost me to keep this blog going after you all figured out about it. The last two times that happened, I deleted them. My pets know the most about me. And not even all of them. Just Jackson. He’s been there for everything, sad as that is. The time I was grounded (for a whole day. Yay discipline.) the day after christmas, he stayed with me the whole time I was being yelled at. He can kind of… sense when I’m uncomfortable, I guess. Those people who say animals don’t have souls are jackasses. There’s more soul in my slutty cat Annabelle then in the whole high school population. And animals don’t have language? *scoff* just because we don’t  understand them doesn’t mean it’s not a language. if that were true, society would collapse, because there is no one language that every single person on Earth understands. There is nothing truly unique about humans, other then our incessant need to belittle each other, and make up things to make ourselves seem most superior. And, yet again, I have strolled off to Ramble, NM. And since it’s a one way trip, I shall continue. Or not. I just sat here for about five minutes trying to think of something smart, witty, yet sensitive to write. I got nothing. Typical.

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Family in All But Blood. We Think.

Who is my best friend and why. I have friends??? Why didn’t anyone tell me???

Huh. My best friend. Is it really possible to have just one? Or for it to even be the same person day after day, year after year? Sometimes my best friend is the almost insanely hyper, Yaoi obsessed girl who’s just recently discovered Green Day. Other times it’s the boy who I have never met in real life, yet knows more about me then anyone in my family. Once, it was even the guy who let me sit by him on the bus on my very first day of high school. of course, by now I’ve learned that he’s annoying and rude, but at the time, he was the nicest person I’d met that day. My best friends are the people who I can insult and be insulted by until the cows come home, but by the next day we’ll be talking and laughing like nothing happened. My best friends are the people who don’t let me just sit off to the side like I am prone to. The people who you go to first with problems, before your family, even, are your best friends. My best friends are funny, sweet, annoying as hell, flawed, perfect, racist, 100% AntiPC. And God help me, but I love these people.

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