Why, thank you, loyal Diaryland subjects, and I cordially invite you for tea and crumpets in the dining hall immediatly following my coniption fit.

(Is that even how you spell "coniption"?)

(....Is there any REAL spelling for the word "coniption"?)

(Does anyone care?)

All right. Don't get me wrong: I most certainly grovel at your most complimentary feet. And although you may fancy me humble in some alternate universe, I must say that you are most definitely wrong. About me poised, that is. Not being humble.

(See? I can't even straighten out my own thoughts when I am able to think about them before writing them down.)

Except for most of the time, I have just one good idea, one good topic to write about, and I am typing so fast so I can get it down on paper (?) that the words don't exactly always come out in the correct order.

Tell did I you what???

Hmm...althuogh many people HAVE told me that I have matured at a much faster pace because A) my parents are divorced, B) I hang around the theater waaaay too much, and C) I have more friends that are old enough to me my parents than I have friends my own age. Maybe that's more along the lines of PATHETIC, rather than shall we say....MATURE. Or poised, for that matter.

Take this afternoon for instance. I had to go to the dentist to have a cavaity filled....erregghh. PAIN. If you can imagine for a moment (and grit your teeth) it FEELS like fingernails on a chalkboard. Not "sounds," but "feels." If you COULD feel it. Whatever. There's no words to describe the sheer horror. I sit in that chair and squirm like a goldfish on hot coals for about an hour until It Is Finished.

(Also, I've developed this little British, mid-Elizabethan era nuance: with words like "finished" or "banished," I have started to pronounce them with the last syllable being pronounced like the word "shed." Like this: Fi-ni-shed. The accent is still on the first syllable but the end of the word is pronounced differently.

I am now throroughly confused. Are you? All this Shakespeare running thruogh my head has made me quite dizzy. Probably combined with the lasting effects of count them, not one, but TWO sedatives given to me today by the dentist.

I swear, I am a little heathen child when it comes to having work done of my teeth. I HATE it. I'm such a baby.

Here's a story: once, when I was about seven, I was sitting in the dentist's office and he stuck his gloved finger in my seven-year-old mouth to poke around and see if anything was infected, or whatever. But me, even then the feminist, took a good hard bite at his knuckles. I remember him reeling back in searing pain, and my mother just sitting in the corner, laughing to herself and quietly applauding me.

Maybe that's why I'm so twisted now. My mother encouraged violence as a child. Thanks a ton, Mom.

Speaking of my mother, we got to church on Easter Sunday, looking pretty nice and ready to do our spiritual duties. And to be honest...I usually enjoy going to the Easter service. The music is incredible and the singing is magnificent. Sermon is usually short, too, which is also a plus. Heh.

So we get there and she's obviously trying to avoid a very large group of people, and I have no idea why, which makes me feel quite awkward at this point. And she sits down and as soon, and I mean AS SOON AS we get up t osing the first hymn, and I'm happy about it finally being Easter and getting to hear the beautiful music, she leans over and whispers, "I can't stay here. This is the most unconformtable position I could possible be in right now. I don't want to be around these people. I have to leave." She's acting like she's a motherfucking SPY or something. It's not like she was hyperventilating or crying or even noticeably UPSET. She was just too proud to sit in a church service for less than an hour in the same building as her ex-boyfriend.

And do you know how much that pissed me off?!?!?!?

I had to get up and LEAVE the fucking church service in the middle of the FIRST DAMN HYMN just because she "wasn't comfortable" being in the SAME DAMN BUILDING as her newly ex-boyfriend for less than a hour, causing me to miss something that I love that I only get to experience once a year.

CHRIST, it gets me pissed just thinking about it.

I was just amazed that she would put her own petty pride issues ahead of me wanting to stay for the, heaven forbid, EASTER church service. I never want to go to church, but when I actually do, she gets all pissy and makes me get up and leave after I had spent about an hour fixing myself up to look decent and was pretty damn proud about hte good job I had done.

If you can't follow this, don't worry. I'm just writing random things about how mad I was and probably still am about my mother's inability to admit that all her boyfriend trouble are initiated by HER.

The boyfriend she didn't want to see at church? Yeah. SHE DUMPED HIM. NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND.

And my ex-step-dad who she divorced two years ago and now wants to get back together with? Yeah. SHE DIVORCED HIM BECAUSE SHE WAS HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH ANOTHER MARRIED MAN AND HE PROMISED HER THAT THEY WOULD GET MARRIED AS SOON AS SHE GOT DIVORCED.

But surprise!! After my mother got divorced and my life was ruined again for the second time, thank you, the guy got cold feet and said he couldn't marry my mom. This is a guy who also USED to go to our church. AND MORE ASTOUNDING: my mom didn't even completely break it off with him. Even when we were living in a shitty third-floor apartment she was still totally enamoured of him and refused to believe me when I repeatedly told her that he was a total asshole and she needed to get over him.

Every time she does something shitty like that and I tell her she did, she always says, "You just don't have any idea."

YES I FUCKING DO! I know that you ruined my fucking life when I was two fucking years old when you divorced my father because you were having an affair with my stepfather-to-be! And by the way, I wasn't even invited to attend that wedding. And just when I get adjusted to him, you divorce him because you were promised by another married man that you two would get married but then he backs out and we're living in a fucking cardboard box on the side of the road. And now you broke up with your boyfriend that you've cheated on several times and you refuse to even sit in the same church service with him, even if it means dragging me out with you because "I just don't understand." I understand the fucking FACTS of the effects on my life of your stupid fucking actions towards men. And the custody battle between you and my father when I was barely two? You didn't file your fucking papers on time so I was forced to live for twelve years with my father, who is a complete SHITHEAD, and abused me both physically and emotionally for all twelve of those years. Those were my years in HELL.

I understand this: MEN have made my life a living hell. And yes, even though I will eventually someday get married and repeat the heinous cycle with MY children, I feel mucho resentment towards the opposite sex. There are very few I can trust. This is why I don't get involved in relationships, whether it be with guys or girls. It's because every single relationship I've had has eventually crumbled, and I don't want to set myself up for something like that.

FUCKING HELL. I didn't mean for this to turn into a bitchfest for a day and a half. Shit.

I just got back from the hospital, which is maybe why I'm suddenly all bitchy and depressed. My mock trial coach just had surgery on his neck, and I brought him some flowers from our team.

I was all like, "Hi, how are you doing? Do you feel okay? Hope you like the flowers. We hope you get well soon."

And he, although fresh out of recovery, was like, "How did mock trial practice go today without me? Did you work on your directs? Do they know their objections well? Has Broderick written his closing yet?"

I'm telling you, this man NEVER STOPS.

He's borderline insane, or something.

© alexa

The counter keeps breaking and pissing me off, so NO MORE COUNTER! Mwahaha!