To My Friends in the 2003 SUCO Class:
May. 19th, 2003 12:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amezriThe ceremony on Saturday was long and boring, but it was the last time we'd all be together for a long while. Great times and not-so-great times were had by all. I wanted to stick around for a bit and say my goodbyes. Get some contact information. You know, standard procedure. Unfortunately, as always, my father has to go and screw things up. The entire time he was there glaring at me and making the "I want to leave - NOW" body gestures and looks. So rather than just deal with it and make my rounds, I do what I always to do and rush out of there back to my room.
So I'm in my room, for the last time I can actually call it my room, and there are still a few things that need to be packed, but it's not dire. I want to change out of the dress, 'cause who packs up their room in a nice dress? The first thing my father does - "let's get this stuff in the car." Uh, hold on a second. I haven't even finished packing yet and get your hands off of my things. So, back off, man. I go change, come back, and he's looking to take apart some desk that I'm pretty sure you can't rip apart. I tell him just to leave it and I'm continuing to put stuff in boxes and take apart my computer. While I'm doing that, he once again says, "I'm taking stuff down to the car." Um, what did I just say? Put it down until I'm done. I don't like being rushed and I don't like people touching my shit when I'm not down with it.
He starts to bitch at me saying that it'll be faster and why can't I just let him do what he wants. I tell him because it's my stuff and it's not going to take that much longer. They can't leave until I'm done anyway, so he should just sit down and calm down. He's telling me that he's calm and asking my mother for the car keys. She won't give. He's getting more pissed, demanding the keys. I told him he doesn't need keys because he's not taking anything down with him. He says my name in that tone, the one parents take when they're about to start screaming if you don't do what they want. So I'm starting to get aggravated that he's rushing me on my last damn day. Finally I just tell him to sit down and stop rushing me. Apparently he thinks it's a joke and keeps pushing me to get stuff in the car now. I lose it and tell him to stop acting like aasshole jerk. That yeah, this is my stuff and give me some damn time to pack on my last day here. If he's in such a damn rush, then he didn't have to come to my freakin' graduation. I didn't want him here anyway.
That did it, I suppose. He asked for the keys again, saying he's just going to sit in the car. Mom gives him the keys as I'm now throwing shit in boxes. He paused for a second and I thought he was going to take one of the boxes. I fucking dared him silently so I could tackle him and kick his fucking ass down the stairs. That would have made my whole damn year. Unfortunately, he just went. Ass. He comes back up a few minutes later and by then I was about ready to go. I told my brother he could take some things down. I swear to gods, if my computer got damaged during that manhandling, people are going to die. I didn't even want to see what remote corner my poor machine got shoved in.
On the drive home, I pulled out my discman and had it playing so loudly, I probably could have deafened myself. But it was good, because I drowned out the drone of my father's voice as he was bitching about more things and making stupid observations and complaining about my cousin. The whole time I was staring out the window thinking about how hard it would be to jump over the seat, unbuckle his seatbelt, and shove him out the door. It would have been really satisfying to watch his skull crash into the pavement and his body get hit by another vehicle. Until, you know, our car went out of control and smashed into another car or the railing. Then I just kept getting this visual of me rolling out of the car and wondering how much it would hurt and how long I'd be alive and conscious if a car hit me at that speed. Yeah, it was a fun drive home.
Once we're back in Schenectady, my father feels the need to stop by Home Depot to buy fertilizer. And proceeds to shove it in the front passenger seat under my mom's feet. Great. So I'm already pissed off, then I find out that my father's plan is to not bring any of my stuff back in the house - just leave it in the Jeep on the driveway. Uh, fuck that. I am very capable of bringing my stuff in myself. The one smart thing he did all day was to not say anything when my brother and I went to take stuff out.
Mom wanted to go to dinner after everything got unloaded. Yay. So we went to the Chinese place that my father hates because it's run by a guy that used to work for him - and the food there is actually good. I didn't want to sit through dinner with him, listening to him talk about how my cousin is stupid and lazy and how he's wasting his life going to develop some game because he's stupid and lazy. Yeah, so maybe my cousin's lazy. Big deal. I can be damn lazy when I feel like, but I sure as hell couldn't go develop a video game. Then he says to my brother, "then why don't you go make a game?" Because, hello you big retard, my brother hasn't taken any sort of programming or media classes. What the hell would he do there? Test it?
ARGH.
And now I'm home and all my shit is all over the place in boxes and bags and nothing is where I need it. My room is a disaster and I haven't even setup my machine yet, which I need to do work.
So. Yay. Happy graduation to me. I hope you all had much better days with friends and family. If you mattered to me at all, I'm sure I will track you down. If not, then you probably won't be reading this and it doesn't matter anyway.
So I'm in my room, for the last time I can actually call it my room, and there are still a few things that need to be packed, but it's not dire. I want to change out of the dress, 'cause who packs up their room in a nice dress? The first thing my father does - "let's get this stuff in the car." Uh, hold on a second. I haven't even finished packing yet and get your hands off of my things. So, back off, man. I go change, come back, and he's looking to take apart some desk that I'm pretty sure you can't rip apart. I tell him just to leave it and I'm continuing to put stuff in boxes and take apart my computer. While I'm doing that, he once again says, "I'm taking stuff down to the car." Um, what did I just say? Put it down until I'm done. I don't like being rushed and I don't like people touching my shit when I'm not down with it.
He starts to bitch at me saying that it'll be faster and why can't I just let him do what he wants. I tell him because it's my stuff and it's not going to take that much longer. They can't leave until I'm done anyway, so he should just sit down and calm down. He's telling me that he's calm and asking my mother for the car keys. She won't give. He's getting more pissed, demanding the keys. I told him he doesn't need keys because he's not taking anything down with him. He says my name in that tone, the one parents take when they're about to start screaming if you don't do what they want. So I'm starting to get aggravated that he's rushing me on my last damn day. Finally I just tell him to sit down and stop rushing me. Apparently he thinks it's a joke and keeps pushing me to get stuff in the car now. I lose it and tell him to stop acting like a
That did it, I suppose. He asked for the keys again, saying he's just going to sit in the car. Mom gives him the keys as I'm now throwing shit in boxes. He paused for a second and I thought he was going to take one of the boxes. I fucking dared him silently so I could tackle him and kick his fucking ass down the stairs. That would have made my whole damn year. Unfortunately, he just went. Ass. He comes back up a few minutes later and by then I was about ready to go. I told my brother he could take some things down. I swear to gods, if my computer got damaged during that manhandling, people are going to die. I didn't even want to see what remote corner my poor machine got shoved in.
On the drive home, I pulled out my discman and had it playing so loudly, I probably could have deafened myself. But it was good, because I drowned out the drone of my father's voice as he was bitching about more things and making stupid observations and complaining about my cousin. The whole time I was staring out the window thinking about how hard it would be to jump over the seat, unbuckle his seatbelt, and shove him out the door. It would have been really satisfying to watch his skull crash into the pavement and his body get hit by another vehicle. Until, you know, our car went out of control and smashed into another car or the railing. Then I just kept getting this visual of me rolling out of the car and wondering how much it would hurt and how long I'd be alive and conscious if a car hit me at that speed. Yeah, it was a fun drive home.
Once we're back in Schenectady, my father feels the need to stop by Home Depot to buy fertilizer. And proceeds to shove it in the front passenger seat under my mom's feet. Great. So I'm already pissed off, then I find out that my father's plan is to not bring any of my stuff back in the house - just leave it in the Jeep on the driveway. Uh, fuck that. I am very capable of bringing my stuff in myself. The one smart thing he did all day was to not say anything when my brother and I went to take stuff out.
Mom wanted to go to dinner after everything got unloaded. Yay. So we went to the Chinese place that my father hates because it's run by a guy that used to work for him - and the food there is actually good. I didn't want to sit through dinner with him, listening to him talk about how my cousin is stupid and lazy and how he's wasting his life going to develop some game because he's stupid and lazy. Yeah, so maybe my cousin's lazy. Big deal. I can be damn lazy when I feel like, but I sure as hell couldn't go develop a video game. Then he says to my brother, "then why don't you go make a game?" Because, hello you big retard, my brother hasn't taken any sort of programming or media classes. What the hell would he do there? Test it?
ARGH.
And now I'm home and all my shit is all over the place in boxes and bags and nothing is where I need it. My room is a disaster and I haven't even setup my machine yet, which I need to do work.
So. Yay. Happy graduation to me. I hope you all had much better days with friends and family. If you mattered to me at all, I'm sure I will track you down. If not, then you probably won't be reading this and it doesn't matter anyway.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
graduating
Date: 2003-05-19 03:33 pm (UTC)And I'm sorry your dad made this day a bad one. *kicks him on the head*
*HUGS*
no subject
Date: 2003-05-19 06:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-19 06:36 pm (UTC)Still, you're graduated now! Congratulations again!
Now you just get to work on getting a job so you can move away from your Dad -- iggckk. He really does sound like a piece of work!
no subject
Date: 2003-05-19 11:34 pm (UTC)My sentiments have already been echoed by others, but first shot you get...move out, because it's obvious that the house isn't big enough for you and your dad. You're better than that jackass anyways!
Congrats on graduation from Oneonta!! I'll be following you in a year!
no subject
Date: 2003-05-20 11:11 am (UTC)