bubbly and lovely: i'm too poor for therapy.
been there and back again. too many thoughts and opinions and hormones get me in trouble.
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10.04.2002
an email rant
this is like a fucked up laurel and hardy routine.
i hate my family. i swear my two brothers do no have half a brain between them. my oldest brother, who was driving, has been to my apartment at least once before. my other brother, david, calls me and is like where do you live? 9th street and first ave, #341. he's like, ok, what's the number? i say 341 and he asks ok, what's the number? and i say it again, and then three more times and then he's like, oh, i think i got it now. 341 on 9th ave. i'm like no, 9th st. by first ave. he's like, oh ok.
then he calls and is like i'm downstairs and i say, ring the buzzer i'll let you in. he's like, i have to get the luggage out of my car. after a few minutes, i'm like, what the hell is keeping him and there's no one outside. i call danny and he doesn't answer and then i call again and he answers and i'm like, where are you? he's like, i'm going home. where's david? i left him at 431. WHAT? yeah, 431? what the fuck?! he's been here before and he didn't fucking OPEN HIS BIG FAT EYES and notice that it wasn't my apartment? so i go downstairs to look for him and walk down the block and back in my pajamas and i can't find dave at 431. i ask a girl and she's like, he went that way. halfway back to my apartment i see my brother on the corner pushing the handles on his rolly bags down in frustration. and i'm like dave! he starts walking towards me and i'm pissed because he's just so fucking dumb and i'm like, i live the other way, stay there. so i take one of his suitcases (he has two for a ten day trip, and these are big bags. makes me curious but not so curious cuz i wonder if i'd end up in jail if i got too curious). we get to my apartment and he asks if i know how to take the subway and i'm like, uhh, it takes a long time why don't you just take a call taxi and he's like it's too expensive. look, a call taxi to jfk at 6 am isn't much. then i'm like, we'll look it up.
and we're walking up the stairs and he asks me if i have class. no. i have work. where do you work? for a website. oh yeah? what do you do? i write. like little articles? yes. (i guess 2000 word articles can be "little".) I'm not saying much cuz i'm pissed that he's so dumb. i told him 341 FIFTEEN times and he still got it fucking wrong. i mean really.
so the next thing he asks is, it isn't for a gay and lesbian thing is it? and i yell at him. no what the fuck kind of question is that? he's all, i was joking. it wasn't funny, i say. so we get to my place and he throws his bag down cuz he's immature and angry i yelled at him even though he's the one with no sense and a stupid idea of humor. i mean what the fuck?! he's got this weird fascination with lesbians, is probably totally homophobic, and at several points in his life thought i was gay b/c of my things with girl scouts and my gay friends. that stupid joke of his was rooted in like 27 years of ignorance and idiocy and stupidity.
so then he looks at my subway map and writes shit down and is like, i'm leaving. meanwhile my mom calls and she's like your brother is looking for you and i'm like i found him. (he fucking called home the stupid idiot baby) then she's like, well he has a bag for you of stuff and your rent check. and i ask dave and he's all like hell no mom didn't give me anything. really, that's a quote, without quotation marks. he said, hell no mom didn't give me anything. as if he needed to be so bold. anyhow, it turns out she gave the bag to my OTHER brother, the FAT stupid one, not the ignorant, good for nothing stupid one, and he has so much fat blocking his brain cells he forgot.
my mom says she'll get it to me saturday. and i hate the way she just assumes that i'll be around. like i don't have a life. like i don't have a taekwondo tournament slated for that day. at west point. i'm just gonna go and get my ass kicked by a black belt or two and then come home. and then get rip-roaring drunk with some law kids. but anyhow, i digress.
and then my brother leaves. his flight doesn't leave for 6 hours. and i don't fucking care. and you know, it's more than the ignorance thing. not much more, but more. i know for a fact, well, i have a sneaking suspicion that my parents have thought i was gay at some point in my life. i swear, when i told my mom that i had a crush on jimmy, she nearly flipped her lid with joy...before warning me she didn't think i should marry him because really i should be with someone more academic. again, i digress. it doesn't bug me that they think i'm gay. it bugs me that they're so ignorant that they would have such thoughts. and it really really bugs me that they take things so near and dear to me, camp and girl scouts, and twist them. because that's also what was at the root of my brother's comment. girl scouts and camp especially are part of what kept me from being as fucked up as the rest of my family and it makes me so angry and sensitive when they are so easy to degrade it and make it a joke or whatever. because i do hold it dear to me.
at least i get peace and quiet to write my article.
maybe i should get hitched in new zealand after all. that's about as far away as i can get without leaving the planet.
02:40
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