Election day?
I know I have no right to be complaining about this, seeing as I've hardly been away from home long enough (a little more than five months... which seems like a long time when you look at it from the other end), but it makes me sad that things change so quickly. And this coming from someone who abhors stasis. What I mean is, why'd they have to go change around all the comics in the paper? I noticed this over break. Lots of the good comics were gone (The Boondocks, for example), to be replaced by sometimes funny, mostly not, other weird comics.
But, to expand on the not being there theme, I just realized how long five months is at home. I've probably harped about this before, but I'm doing it again, so tough luck. I never really noticed that I was gone, because of course I'll always still be with me. And of course, as long as I'm not in my hometown, everything there stops completely, like the world of England and the war stopped when the children went through the wardrobe into Narnia. Things just pick up where they left off when I go home, as if I'd never been gone at all... at least that's the way it works for me. I never really stopped to think that my parents are still living there while I'm not. Weird.
My grandpa is one of the most crazy, senile, radical people I've ever known. It gets worse as he gets older. But as I've grown old enough to listen to him and understand the words he is saying, I've been paying more attention to him and his ideas begin to make more sense, much to my dismay. As far as I can tell, he hates government as much as he hates liberals and Marxists ("Marxists" being my mother and all her friends. And college professors, everyone living in college towns [my hometown is one], or going to public schools [my brother and I being his only grandchildren who weren't homeschooled]). Anyway, sometimes he does make sense. I was looking at his blog, and he actually posted an article that wasn't insanely crazy (this is mild for him.) But that was my whole point to this short narrative.
I haven't gotten dressed yet today, and don't think I am going to. These pajamas are really comfortable. I do have to do laundry, though. I even went to "breakfast" (at 1:20) without wearing a bra, cause I really didn't want to have to put it on. I can't really get away with that like some lucky people, but my hoodie worked okay. I don't know why the whole world wanted to know that. But now they do.
I always thought the wood woodwork in our house was ugly. I don't know what else to call it except wood woodwork, even though that seems kind of redundant. But you know, the stuff that goes around the windows and doors, and sometimes around the floor (not the quarter-round, the other stuff that sometimes goes around the floor). It looked sort of okay when our living room was white, but now it's blue, and I thought the woodwork should be painted offwhite or something, instead of that "woody" look it has. Now I have added to my list of requirements for my future house the necessity of having wood woodwork. That goes along with a big front porch, and a nicely sized yard, with trees that have already matured. I want a house where the garage is not in the front, or attached to the house, but in the back, and separate, like it should be. It has to be old enough that it has begun settling, but I don't want any problems with doors closing or anything.
Isn't it odd that however much time we spend detesting our parents and trying our hardest to not be like them, we end up with them and their lives as our ideals. What's with that?
Man, I hate it when people say they feel sorry for other people, when those other people don't feel sorry for themselves. That bugs the hell out of me. Leave them alone! If they don't want to feel sorry for themselves, I bet they sure as hell don't want other people to feel sorry for them either. Bah humbug!
I've been waiting a few weeks for this day, to know what would happen in Iraq, but for all the hype today has recieved, they're not telling us much. Maybe they will tomorrow. Maybe I just want to prove a bunch of people wrong, who knows.
There was something on my mind that I really wanted to talk about, but I've completely forgotten what it was. So it goes.
But, to expand on the not being there theme, I just realized how long five months is at home. I've probably harped about this before, but I'm doing it again, so tough luck. I never really noticed that I was gone, because of course I'll always still be with me. And of course, as long as I'm not in my hometown, everything there stops completely, like the world of England and the war stopped when the children went through the wardrobe into Narnia. Things just pick up where they left off when I go home, as if I'd never been gone at all... at least that's the way it works for me. I never really stopped to think that my parents are still living there while I'm not. Weird.
My grandpa is one of the most crazy, senile, radical people I've ever known. It gets worse as he gets older. But as I've grown old enough to listen to him and understand the words he is saying, I've been paying more attention to him and his ideas begin to make more sense, much to my dismay. As far as I can tell, he hates government as much as he hates liberals and Marxists ("Marxists" being my mother and all her friends. And college professors, everyone living in college towns [my hometown is one], or going to public schools [my brother and I being his only grandchildren who weren't homeschooled]). Anyway, sometimes he does make sense. I was looking at his blog, and he actually posted an article that wasn't insanely crazy (this is mild for him.) But that was my whole point to this short narrative.
I haven't gotten dressed yet today, and don't think I am going to. These pajamas are really comfortable. I do have to do laundry, though. I even went to "breakfast" (at 1:20) without wearing a bra, cause I really didn't want to have to put it on. I can't really get away with that like some lucky people, but my hoodie worked okay. I don't know why the whole world wanted to know that. But now they do.
I always thought the wood woodwork in our house was ugly. I don't know what else to call it except wood woodwork, even though that seems kind of redundant. But you know, the stuff that goes around the windows and doors, and sometimes around the floor (not the quarter-round, the other stuff that sometimes goes around the floor). It looked sort of okay when our living room was white, but now it's blue, and I thought the woodwork should be painted offwhite or something, instead of that "woody" look it has. Now I have added to my list of requirements for my future house the necessity of having wood woodwork. That goes along with a big front porch, and a nicely sized yard, with trees that have already matured. I want a house where the garage is not in the front, or attached to the house, but in the back, and separate, like it should be. It has to be old enough that it has begun settling, but I don't want any problems with doors closing or anything.
Isn't it odd that however much time we spend detesting our parents and trying our hardest to not be like them, we end up with them and their lives as our ideals. What's with that?
Man, I hate it when people say they feel sorry for other people, when those other people don't feel sorry for themselves. That bugs the hell out of me. Leave them alone! If they don't want to feel sorry for themselves, I bet they sure as hell don't want other people to feel sorry for them either. Bah humbug!
I've been waiting a few weeks for this day, to know what would happen in Iraq, but for all the hype today has recieved, they're not telling us much. Maybe they will tomorrow. Maybe I just want to prove a bunch of people wrong, who knows.
There was something on my mind that I really wanted to talk about, but I've completely forgotten what it was. So it goes.
posted by Emma at 1:42:00 PM
2 Comments:
That's your Grandpa's blog? And he doesn't even link to you?...wow...That's cold.
Yep, that's his blog alright. Strange man. He does link to me on his website, though... I'm sure there's a link to his website somewhere on his blog. But I'm glad he doesn't link to my blog. I'd just as soon none of my family knew about it. Wow, that sounds so teenage angst-y.
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