Anyway, slept really late again. I have to remember to set my alarm on days I have to get to class. Pretty sad when you can't make a noon class. Kitten shenanigans woke me up often, as did weirded-out dreams and night sweats (I hate when dreams go on and on all night, despite my efforts to break out of them). But it's raining like a mo-fo out there, so I think I'll skip altogether. That campus has a tendency to flood, as do a lot of the roadways.
At least my thighs aren't killing me like they were last night. I guess the tissue knit in my sleep. All the same, I think I'll skip the gym today.
I really *must* do something about this godforsaken apartment.
More on the former classmate who's now an actor: he's conventionally handsome but I find I'm not attracted to him. He's one of those burly-jock types, with a square jaw. He'd play a good Superman. Although other girls might pass out for that type, it does little for me.
A very early memory: I was sitting on the floor in my great-grandparents' house, the center of attention. I spied the old coffee can that my great-grandfather used as a spittoon, and I started to crawl towards it. Both my parents were like, "No," shaking their heads. I looked at them for a moment, and then made another go toward the spittoon and this time my parents sounded like they were getting mad, "NO!" So I gave up.
My great-grandparents raised my dad. I know little about his childhood, but apparently his mom was a running a little "business" on the side while her husband was gone driving his rig. Yep, you heard it here first, my grandma was a hooker. Gotta love my roots. Anyway, my dad's mom left when he was young. When I was about seven or so, I used to quiz my dad about his childhood and stuff before my mom told me not to; I think it made him depressed. He told me then that his mother left because "she didn't love him," and that she had jet-black hair. Anyway, apparently my dad got shuffled from relative to relative because "nobody wanted him," as he put it. Then his grandparents put their foot down and said, "We'll take him," because the situation was wrong. But my great-grandparents were too old, really, to raise a kid. When my dad was 14 he lied about his age and joined the National Guard. That's pretty much all I know about that. Oh, except that my dad's mother tried to contact him when he was an adult, but he wouldn't see her, and eventually she died. Also, my great-grandparents lived into their 90's and died within a year of each other when I was in my late teens.
I don't blame my dad for not wanting to see his mom. You get only one chance at parenting and if you fuck it up, that's it. That's how I feel about him. There have been times I got the impression that my dad' sorry for what he's done and he'd like to make it up, but it's too late. He didn't appreciate and nurture the precious gift from God that was his daughter, and it's over now. I only converse with him on a very superficial level and I don't feel anything for him. I don't even think I hate him anymore. There's another reason I need to find a way to earn a butt-load of money: I'll need to pay for a nursing home because there's no way I'm taking care of his aged ass.
Eh, I guess I'll go to watercolor class after all. It's quit raining.
posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 12:05 PM
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