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a faithful disservice
2002-08-17 01:49:36
Everything was conspiring to pry me out of bed this morning - first the lion Dance troup at the school near my place started their practice - all drums and cymbals. And then a rag-and-bone man came by with his air-horn, calling for people to sell their recyclable rubbish. Then the inside of my ear started to itch. Aargh.
I am now writing an email to my dad asking for a loan for some editing equipment I need. Boy it's hard. I've put it off for almost a week already, and last night when I finally sat down to write it, I couldn't bring myself to send it. I only sent half the email, leaving out the money part. Now I'm almost done with the email... but I don't know how to end it. I can't end with an "I love you, papa" because that just smacks of manipulativity (is there even such a word?). My dad isn't very expressive to begin with, so it's going to sound weird. It was so hard to even start signing off as "Love, Ami" a year ago in my emails to him.
Now, my dad is very giving when it comes to education or things that pertain to career. And I do love him even though I hardly say it but I've always found it hard to ask for things from my dad. I'm sure a therapist would have a field day with this.
Aaargh, see what I'm doing? I'm procrastinating on sending that email by dallying on this entry.
MUST. SEND. EMAIL. But how do I end it? Uncharacteristically mushy? Grovelly? Business-like? WHAT? AAAARGH! -
Appease my wrath with the sacrifice of many virgin tomatoes!
2002-08-16 06:15:43
Recfently, I've been submerged in a strange, shallow despair. The only thing that seems to help it is housework. Yes, housework. Vaccuming, laundry, mopping, throwing stuff out... all these chores give me a false sense of productivity. My mom has a tendency to neglect the house, so I take it upon myself to wield mop and Jif spray in an attempt to make my house less depressing. Before I came home from Australia, my mother was very fond of keeping the doors and balcony closed. It resulted in a dim, stifling atmosphere, and closed in the stink that the cats created, no matter how often the litter was changed. There were piles of dirty clothing everywhere because the washing machine had sprung a leak. My mom kept saying she would to handwash stuff, but would be discouraged by the huge piles of clothing and leave it to another day. It was awful.
When I came home, I threw open all the doors and windows I could, got my mom to get the plumber to fix the machine, threw all the clothing into the wash, even the more delicate laundry, which made my mother gasp and yowl in protest. She said I was ruining the clothes by putting them in the machine. I shot back that leaving them to rot in great moldy piles was no better.
Don't get me wrong - I love my mom. But I have to admit that she's a lousy housewife. Awful to the nth degree. She lets the house get so awful that she doesn't know where to start with the housework. She copes by making little islands of cleanliness in the mess, but in doing so messes up the rest of the house because she has to shuffle the piles of clothing around. My sister copes by ignoring everything. That girl could live in a dumpster is she had to. I try to ignore it until I can't take it anymore, and then I start snarling at people and manhandling the vaccum late at night. I bang it around and scare the cats and toss the furniture around until my mother gets pissed and yells at me.
I swear I am going to wait until my mom goes out one day and throw out all the rubbish she has hoarded in her just-in-case-we-need-it-one-day delusion. There is stuff we haven't used in YEARS. I bet if I threw them out she wouldn't even notice. I just have to make sure she doesn't see me thrashing them.
- 2002-08-15 13:39:25 What are you, the Disco Plumber? - The Shoveler
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I went running, looking for myself, but all I found was my reflection
2002-08-15 10:18:25
For the first time in months, my left thumb is not unrecognisable from the vicious peeling I unconciously subject it too. I had it under bandaids for the last week so I wouldn't be able to reach at the healing skin. Unfortunately, the skin around my thumb now smells like stinky foot.
I tried to use a bandaid every three days, but it resulted in skin that got all white and puffy from the water that had gotten under my plaster and hadn't gotten the chance to evaporate. It looked like I had leprosy. Eww. But lucky it's all shrunk back to normal. Except for the stink, that is.
Looks like I'm going to have to go through the Star Wars bandaids a lot faster than I had hoped to. One a day as opposed to one every three.
Aargh. -
turning in your hand ~ Suzanne Vega
2002-08-13 14:53:36
I am so hooked on bandaids. Thanks, Kyburg!
Mother: Why are you such a beast?
Ami: ...
Mother: Probably because you came from one.
JOURNAL: Amizadai (Lee Amizadai )
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