i want for you to be a good man.

I've had plenty of inspiration as to what this blog was going to be about; my love for gay people, the awkwardness that I hatet still irrevocably exists between my old best friend and me, or my current relationship with my father.

I settled on the last one, because it's the only one that's quite literally bothering me as I'm sitting here, typing this.

My father.

I don't know what has happened to our relationship recently. Has it died completely, just for the moment? What has happened to my dad? He was, hands down, the coolest dad I could have had when I was younger. I mean, sure, I bad-mouthed him around my mom, but that was simply because I hated knowing the way my father had treated my mother, when he treated me like a princess. Now it's grunt, oh, you're home. I love you too, daddy.

We don't even really have conversations about anything anymore. I mean, we never really had conversations to begin with, but we talked about redundant things and at least connected. The last honest-to-God conversation we've had, I believe, was either at a Mexican restaurant in June as we talked about movies. Or maybe it was that conversation where we talked about how we are very alike, regardless that I didn't spend much time with him for the first twelve years of my life.

Fuck, I don't spend much time with him now.

And before those two conversations, they were only about shit when he was trying to figure out what was wrong with me when I started having all those mental break downs at the end of last year. Looking back, I think it's safe to say that I honestly am clinically depressed, or was.

(I didn't need Zoloft, though.

Oh wait, my parents are bastards and don't seem to care about the fact that I attempted suicide a year and a half ago and have scars on my wrists as a result of masochism, and won't get me a therapist because they don't want to pay for it.)

Ugh, so anyway, my parents who may be the cause of this economic crises were up in Wisconsin, or at least a helping hand in the creation of it all, considering they own something like elven properties, three of which they 'live on', the other of eight they have dysfunctional tenants, who not only neglect to pay their rent, cause us a great deal of hassle otherwise. Obviously, as the philosophical thirteen year old I am, even I can tell that it is a far much better solution to sell the fucking properties, albeit the fact that the housing market is in the dumps right now.

Well, you don't have to do it right away.

But at least make me feel a little fucking better and talk about it.

Back to the point.

Lori and my father were up there, leaving me to fend for myself and for Savannah to do whatever it is she does for what must be the umpteenth time.

I am left, these weekends, in a house with little to no food that I can easily prepare, given the fact that I was never really taught how to cook anything. I have no money, due to a lack of a job I once had and/or allowance. Savannah is in school and working at a department store, I feel it is unfair for her to buy me shit. I am too young to have a worker's permit, and I will spend most of my time seeking out music videos that will cause me to break down and sob my eyes out, hit my fists against the floor, because life is unfair and my mother is dead.

My father shows up this morning; as far as I knew, he was not supposed to return home until tomorrow. Savannah didn't come home last night-- she's not supposed to leave me in the house alone (but even I am standing up for Savannah's rights as a twenty-two year old; let her do whatever it is bisexual 22-year-old girls such as herself do.) I stayed up until about three in the morning watching RENT, crying my eyes out, having that giddy "Oh my God, gay people!" feeling I feel all the time.

I set my alarm for ten this morning; I was perfectly aware of the fact that I had to feed my dogs.

My father wakes me up at 9:30. I wake up more in a frightened stupor that I am about to be raped, because as far as I know, my father has not returned from the hell hole of economic and financial disaster. He says, "HAI FEED THE DOGS," and then, like my alarm clock wasn't set and I'm an immature teenager, "IT'S A GOOD THING I CAME HOME. -INSERT UNCLE TOM LAUGH HERE-"

Also, if my very un-tech-savvy Uncle Tom happens to stumble upon that, which (as noted by the 'un-tech-savvy', as I believe we had a conversation about his lack for computer skills last time I saw him) would be rather unlikely, HOWEVER-- it was not a thing against you. I'm just making fun of my father futhermore.

My father did not take the time to let me sleep in for the only times of the week I am allowed to sleep in and catch up on fore-mentioned sleep; he made me do it myself. After I finished this, and realized it would be bad for me to once more retire to sleep, he began to lecture me about how he was not impressed with the house (I did a full inspection after he left; it looked exactly the same as he had left, unless he was counting the fact that blankets were in different places in the living room and that the remote control were piled on the floor next to it, showing that people do appreciate the fact we own a television, lest the fact it lacks a connection to Comcast or DirecTV or whatever cable or sattelite company we may be offered. And then the fact my sister hadn't yet done the dishes.

This is how things work when Savannah and I am home alone; I care for the dogs, she does the dishes. Dad was not supposed to come home until tomorrow, therefore, dishes were not done.

And then I had to cover up for Savannah as my father got all DID SHE COME HOME LAST NIGHT >=[, but as we ranted this afternoon and joked about bringing my father onto Maury, I realized that it didn't bother me all that much.

I miss my old daddy.

I was contemplating the fact that I love the feeling of being at Don's; I always have.

Sometimes I wish child services would come pick me up and auction me off to Don's.

By the way, it's official. Savannah's gonna move out once I have a job and can drive, and once I'm seventeen, I'm moving in with her until after high school, and then we'll see what happens after there.



(I feel better; tansk.)