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My finger doesn't want to work.



...okay, have the story )



On the plus side, I've discovered that I have a titanium stomach. Augmentin commonly causes GI upset, vomiting and diarrhea. I have not had a single symptom. Kat (one of the techs) even compared me to a Labrador -- they'll eat anything and everything and not have a problem. I am ridiculously proud of my stomach.
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(Part 2 of 2, Part 1 can be found here)

The bad:

I don't remember what I said to broach the subject of birth control. I just remember some of the first words out of my mother's mouth: “You're not pregnant, are you?” “What? No, of course not.” “Not with Dan. Whatever you do, never with Dan. He's not the one for you.”

From there, what was supposed to be a quick chat about birth control turned into a half hour long bash on Dan and my relationship with Dan:

She said that Dan “isn't a man, he's a little boy."
She said we have an unhealthy “enabling” relationship.
She said that Dan is narcissistic, and I'm his codependent.
 

She distinctly implied that I'm only with Dan for the gifts he gives me.

She basically said I should dump him since he doesn't like washing the dishes.
She compared my relationship with Dan to her failed first marriage to a drunk... who was possibly abusive.

Never mind that Dan is always there when I need him, that he's always willing to help, that he gladly takes care of me when I'm sick. Never mind that Dan is always there to calm me down, prop me up, and catch me when I fall. Never mind that he treats me better than every one else in my life. Never mind that he loves me more than anyone else has before.

Dan has never risen a hand to me in anger. He has no serious vices – he doesn't drink, he's not a crazy partier, he doesn't have any drug or gambling addictions. He is impossibly sweet. He takes care of me. He loves me. He helps me in more ways than I can say. I thought this was how a good relationship was supposed to be?

But no, none of that matters.

What matters is that “he doesn't fit in with the family.” He doesn't do dishes. He didn't cook for me when we lived together. We constantly “enable” each other. He's a mama's boy. His hypoglycemia can make him temperamental. What matters is that we cuddled in front of the fireplace in Washington when I was freezing cold.

I barely fit in with my family;* why would I want him to? He's quiet and reserved, and you've been against him from the get-go. We've reached a compromise – I do dishes and he rubs my constantly aching shoulders. It's win-win. He did cook fairly often, actually, but his days were a lot longer than mine even after I got a job, so I ended up doing most of the cooking while he bought a good 90% of our food because I was dirt poor. Yes, he adores his mother. So what? That translates to how he treats me. How is that a problem? The hypoglycemia is annoying, but he's getting better and we know how to work through it whenever it pops up. I would rather deal with his hypoglycemia than your issues. And, seriously? Cuddling PDA is blacklisted even when I'm freezing cold and he's trying to warm me up?

F.U., Mom.

Oh, and learn what “enable” means. Your stupid is showing.

*Excepting Kelly and Geena – seriously, I luff you guys so hard. I miss you!


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Mom and Dad disappeared for hours today. When they came back, they had a brand new 2010 Honda Civic.

They gave me (or, more accurately, are letting me use) Mom's 2001 Acura. This is three days after I talked to Dad about using the settlement money from my car to buy a used ~2009 Kia, and he approved of the plan.

Their reasoning? "But you wanted the Acura!"

Yeah, until I had to start driving it again and discovered how grossly inefficient it is. Before I had the chance to upgrade to a newer, nicer, and still gas-efficient car -- one that had better than an average 22 mpg. My Honda made on average 33 mpg. Now I'm stuck with this car that really just makes me feel gross.

I understand why they thought this would be okay -- they own my 2001 Civic, not me, and I've been making noises for ages about getting one of the two Acuras. But seriously. My car got totaled. I fought to get a higher settlement than was offered. I just talked to Dad about getting a Kia with the settlement money. Then they turned around and did this.

I feel cheated. I was the one in a car crash. I was the one who lost a car. I was the one who managed to get over $700 more compared to the original settlement. They didn't do anything. They already had four cars -- four cars between the two of them -- in perfect condition. But Mom wanted a new car, and she is the one who gets what she wants.

Oh, and the kicker? They're always complaining about how oh-so-broke they are. They just bought a car for over $17,000. My settlement was $8000. They now owe ~$9000 in car payments. They just bought the Pilot last year and are still paying it off. And they're still working on payments for the Corvette that was bought ~2 years before that. If I'd gotten a used Kia, I could have bought one for ~$10,000, and owed only ~$2000 on it by using the settlement as a down payment.

But no. They went behind my back and did this.

I really honestly expected Mom to get a new car this weekend. I thought they would trade one of the Acuras in to get it. I didn't even consider that they would pull this BS, at least not without first talking to me about it. Even if they settlement isn't actually my money, I feel that they owed me that courtesy if nothing else.
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I'm ready to slap Matthew and my mother. Apparently, it's my fault that Matthew's cat didn't get her medication today because I "can't just suddenly stop giving her her meds and expect Matthew to be responsible." Yeah, Mom actually said that. I've been telling him since Day 1 nearly two weeks ago that he needs to be responsible to her medications. That was on the 6th. 11 days later, and he's still leaving it for someone else to do every single morning because he "forgets" or he's "too tired." He only does it in the evening because we hound him to take care of her. We literally have to tell him 5 or 6 times before he does it. It takes 1 minute to give Midnight her medicines, but it turns into a 45 minute long affair because he doesn't take care of it. He's nearly 17 years old, and he can't (or won't) even do this right.

I slept in today until nearly 10am. That's 2 1/2 hours after Matthew left for school. I didn't even think to glance at the medication chart to see if Midnight and Teddy had gotten their morning treatments until after 1pm, and that was when I was busy making myself some lunch. Teddy was done, but Midnight was not. Midnight's supposed to get her meds twice a day, around 8am and 8pm. This was 5 hours past that.

I'm so fed up. When my cat, TJ, was sick and dying, I cared for him round the clock. I gave him baby aspirin and massaged his paralyzed leg. I made sure he was eating. I made sure he was taking care of himself. I stayed with him as much as I could until there was no other choice but to have him put to sleep. Matthew doesn't check to see how Midnight is doing. He doesn't make sure she has her special food. Basically, he doesn't do shit for his cat unless he is yelled at repeatedly.

But somehow, I'm the one being blamed because I "suddenly stopped" giving her her meds without first notifying Matthew. This shouldn't even be an issue. Matthew should automatically assume that it's his responsibility because Midnight is his cat. Especially after I have repeatedly told him that he needs to be responsible for this and not foist it off on me. But no, even after 11 days of saying that, this is still my fault.

Matthew is such a fucking failure. He annoys the hell out of me. I wish he would just grow the fuck up. And Mom? Well she needs to grow a pair of fucking balls start actually being a mother to Matthew instead of this namby-pamby BS she's doing now.

(Dad, by the way, was in the next room. He didn't say anything throughout this whole debacle.)
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Dan apparently bought something for me awhile ago.  Like, at least a month ago? He told me he was expecting something for me from Fedex, but that it hadn't shipped yet. On Tuesday night, Dan got an email with the tracking information, but nothing about where it was coming from. Fedex dropped off an envelope package addressed to Dan today, and I was so excited because yay it was finally here! I texted Dan: "Package is here! Open open open! Get home so I can open it!" ...but it's not for me. It's 49ers tickets for his dad. Dan sent me the tracking number for my package so I could see where it was.

According to the Fedex tracking site, the package was picked up from Pleasanton yesterday... and arrived in Oakland last night. Pleasanton is 45 minutes from my house. Oakland? Oakland is 70 minutes away. Good planning there, Fedex.
That's not even the good part: It left Oakland this morning... and arrived in Memphis, TENNESSEE, five hours later.



WTF Fedex? WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME.




...IT'S STILL IN MEMPHIS.

Really now?

May. 1st, 2010 07:43 pm
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My dad is still pouting and bitch-facing about the fight we had 8 HOURS AGO. He won't talk to me except to answer direct questions, and then it's in a completely disinterested tone. He won't respond at all to comments about how well Teddy is progressing with all the new tricks I'm teaching him, and he slammed the door and stormed out when he and Mom left for the Eagles concert an hour ago.

Seriously, grow up time is now.
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Well that was... interesting.

Mom, Matt, Dad and I were sitting at the table eating breakfast and having a fairly pleasant discussion about a bunch of different things, from PG&E being stupid, to alternative power sources, to why I had to have surgery years ago. This was peppered with comments telling Matthew to stop picking at his skin because he has sores that will get infected and develop scars if he keeps playing with them. Mom kept reminding him to stop whenever she caught him doing it, and I was giving Matt advice, since I've gone through the same thing and have been trying to stop for years. I was telling him things like "distract your hands," hold your mug or do something else to keep your hands busy so they don't wander up to you neck/face. Dad spoke up in a really annoyed tone, telling him repeatedly to stop, sounding angrier and angrier with each repetition until he was almost yelling at Matthew. This was all over something that is a habit that is very hard to break and doesn't actually directly affect Dad at all. I gently told Dad that yelling really does not help in a situation like this and that there really are better ways to handle this. I wasn't telling him what to do, I wasn't condescending, and I certainly wasn't trying to be rude. I was trying to offer advice because the only way Dad knows how to deal with things is to yell and scream and holler and carry on, and that never helps anything. The conversation returned to discussing my shoulder injury and surgery, since Matthew didn't know much about it.

Two minutes later, Dad blew up. He started screaming at me. He stood up and loomed over me, and yelled at me while standing three inches from my face. I tried to calmly interject that I really wasn't trying to be rude, that I was just trying to say that there are other ways to deal with things. He just kept screaming about how "How dare you" and "I would never say that to my parents" and on and on and on. It was very upsetting to be treated that way, but really, it wasn't very intimidating. All I could really think was, "Really? This is how you deal with this? Really? Grow up." Mom interjected that this is why she never says anything. She's afraid that he'll start screaming at her. It's happened in the past. Matthew had stormed out of the room after Dad started yelling at him for picking at his skin. I left to talk to Matthew, who was obviously upset. I tried to tell him ways to diffuse tension before it builds and explodes. Simple things like doing what you're asked either right away or within a reasonable amount of time.

Then I told him about when I was in so much pain because of my shoulder injury, and I was trying to tell my parents that I needed help, but I was being brushed off and ignored because I was "exaggerating." I got so frustrated that my pain wasn't being taken seriously, so I resorted to stronger language to get my point across. Dad blew up and told me to go to my room, but Mom said no, you need to listen to her. Dad has a history of not listening and blowing up when issues are put in his face. It's upsetting and frustrating.

Really though, yelling in my face? Not intimidating. Grow up.
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There's a guy living in my apartment complex who seems really nice. He's always smiling, always greet me when we pass in the hallways, and overall seems like a really nice guy. Problem is...

He's a rapist.

That's right. And no, I'm not making this up. I got a notice from the city of Huntington Beach that four, count 'em, FOUR, sexual predators live in this complex. The bulletin included names, photographs, physical descriptions, and descriptions of their offenses. There are two rapists and two child molesters living in this 130-odd apartment community. One rapist and one pedophile live right across the hall. RIGHT ACROSS THE FRICKIN HALL. They're RIGHT THERE. I can see their apartments from mine.

That's effin' scary.

I need to move.
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We have a situation and we need advice. I'll let my sister explain it, since she knows what's going on:

The day started normally enough. Soak in the tub, watch Heroes with Geena, vegetate while she cleans, then get up and ready to go to the complex and Wal-Mart.

Errands run, dinner made, get a cramp, back to soak in the tub again, then to bed. Take all night meds, including Ambien, and then the phone rings. It's Cynthia. "I need to get in touch with Mom," she says. "Harold and Reuben are saying I'm an unfit mother and they're going to take the girls."

"Wait. What happened?" I sit straight up, phone pressed tight to my ear.

"I stood up for myself." Her voice cracks under the strain. "I told them I need them to pay more child support, and their families got together and decided to take the girls, and my car doesn't have tags, the dealer never sent in the registration, so I'm afraid to drive anywhere, and they said they're gonna come here tomorrow and take my kids." She sounds worn, almost resigned. I am not. I have not had days of this coming at me.

"We'll come get you. We'll be there soon." I hang up and dash off an email to my dad before calling, "Geena, we have a crisis!"

I explain to her before I dress. Teddy claims my robe as his bed as soon as I drop it in the bathroom. Then, once I'm dressed, I have to re-explain to Matthew. We're out the door in no time and on the road, Geena reiterating that she's not comfortable with me driving after taking an Ambien. I tell her Cindy will drive on the way back and the Ambien won't kick in on the half-hour drive.

We take a wrong exit at first, so Geena calls home and has Matthew get us Cynthia's number. She calls while I get us back on the freeway, and the next exit is the one we want. We're there within five minutes of leaving the freeway.

Cynthia looks terrible. She's only thirty-three, but looks at least ten years older. She's lost weight, and her eyes have deep, dark circles under them. "Did you get ahold of Dad?" she asks.

"No, but I can call them." Geena passes me the cell phone, and I dial Dad's number. He's gotten the email I sent him, and I fill him in on what I know. He starts saying he doesn't want these people to show up at our house, telling me to order them off the property if they do and to call the police on a domestic disturbance complaint. All of which I know and plan, but make him feel better to say. Eventually, I pass the phone onto Cynthia.

The plan, as of now, is to take the boys to school as usual in the morning. Cynthia's going to call a friend of hers to see if she can take the girls. If not, Geena and I will keep the girls while we run errands and go to appointments. Cynthia will file restraining orders against Harold and Reuben (they both made death threats) and probably some others, and hopefully, finally start divorce proceedings against Reuben. She'll also be making calls to the dealership and Legal Aid to find herself a lawyer to protect herself from backlash from her moves.

I just. I don't know how these situations form around her. They're always around her. None of the rest of the family attracts this sort of drama. She has a magnet. It's insane.



So they're working on getting restraining orders against these two guys. I told them to make sure she documents everything that is happening. Keep logs of phone calls -- what was said by who and when -- keep copies of notes and emails received as proof of harassment. I can't think of anything else right now other than contacting a lawyer, and they're already doing that. Is there anything else we can do in this situation?

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I just read the most appalling thing on the Humane Society website. Two teenagers in New York put an eight week old kitten in an 500 degree oven and left it there to roast to death. The older of the two got a year in prison. One measly year. And she's not allowed to have pets for three years. How is this justice? How does this in any way balance out the heinous crime that she committed? We need much, much harsher punishments for people who treat non-human lives so callously.

Oh, and her reasoning? She doesn't like cats.


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Apparently pauline's boyfriend has a key to the apartment. Meaning, he can come in whenever he wants regardless of whether or not anyone is home. This seems very wrong to me. I've been with Dan for nearly four years now, and he doesn't even have a key. Persilla Queen of the Desert has been with this guy for two, maybe three months and he has a key. I made sure to introduce Dan to my roommates right off the bat so they would know who he was; I barely even know this guy's name. Does this seem right or okay to anyone else? Persilla is acting like the apartment is hers and hers alone. I know I share this space with two other girls, even though nearly everything here is mine and I've been here two years longer than her.

Ugh.

Move out day is TOMORROW. I am so excited, I can't wait!!

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This is getting ridiculous. Persilla Queen of the Desert (aka Pauline) has decided that it is quite all right to lock me out of the room any time she chooses so that she can have sex. This has happened at least five times in the last week.

On Sunday, I got up somewhat early (8-9 am) and went into the living room so I wouldn't bother her or her boyfriend who were still asleep in the bedroom. They woke up soon after that and locked the door and started having sex while I was in the living room. I wasn't even dressed for the day yet. I had to go knock on the door to be allowed into my own room so I could get my clothes and leave. Well, I left the door open because I would be going in and out for a bit while getting prepared for the day. I walked in through the OPEN bedroom door and walked right in on her going down on him. Fortunately, the blanket was strategically placed so I didn't see much of him, but I got an eyeful of her fat ass. Seriously?? The door was OPEN, dipshit!

After coming home from the gym today, the bedroom door was wide open. Turns out, they were napping. Fine, whatever. But now, I'm locked out of my room AGAIN while they have sex AGAIN. Once or twice is fine. But nearly every day? Enough is enough. I get that this is a relatively new relationship, but still. Some basic courtesy would be appreciated: a) don't lock me out of the room that we share while I'm home, b) don't have sex on my furniture (which I know they've done at least 2 or 3 times), and c) don't have sex while I'm home!! My sex life has suffered because I follow all three of this guidelines. I hate that it has, but I value some semblance of peace in the apartment. I really want to start violating all of these "guidelines" all the time, just to show her how rude it is.

What would you do if you were in the same situation, flist?


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I went to bed slightly early last night because I planned to go to the zoo this morning (so I had to get up around 6 am to be there by 7:30 am). At some point, Xiomara came in (with her boyfriend) to go to sleep. I didn't hear a sound. Apparently around that time, my cat got let out of the room and shut out. So, around 3:30 am I was woken up be some determined scratching at the carpet in front of the bedroom door. I opened it to let the cat it, and left the door open so she could come and go as needed. I figured that, since the apartment was dark and it was nearly 4 am, everyone was already settled for the night so there would be no one thumping around to wake me up. Boy, was I wrong.

Around 4 am, I was woken up by the sound of gasping coming from the living room. pauline was having sex (I believe she was on my couch*, eww). I drifted off at some point, absolutely mortified that my couch was being defiled by pauline. They stopped not too long after that and came in the bedroom to go to bed. They came in, scuffing their feet and chatting. I woke up. Again. pauline fiddled with her phone (not on silent) and climbed in to her noisy bed with some guy  who I can only assume to be her boyfriend. Then they proceeded to carry on a "whispered" conversation about something or other. I got feed up because they were keeping me awake when I really needed to get some sleep, so I spoke up: "You guys really aren't as quiet as you think you are." That made them be quiet. For all of a minute and a half. By this point, Dan had been awake for quite some time, too (which is usually pretty hard to do, so you know they were making noise; it wasn't just me), and he made some moaning/groaning/annoyed/stfu noise. So I said something to the effect of: "either stop talking or leave the room." Her reply? Use earplugs. ?!? So I just said, "Fuck off, I have to get up early tomorrow." She finally got quiet and went to sleep. By this time it was nearly 5 am, and I was wide awake. I ended up dozing at some point, not really asleep, until my alarm went off at 6:10 am. I lost 2+ hours of sleep due to pauline's selfishness.

I
NEED TO MOVE OUT. Now, pls. kthx.

*When I got up this morning, the couch was in complete disarray. Yes, they were fucking on it. Ewww. Anyone have some couch disinfectant?
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WTF bitch? I'm pretty sure Pauline just took some of the ice cream pie that Dan made me. TOOK IT AND DIDN'T EVEN FUCKING ASK. Stupid bitch. I don't take any food of hers, and especially not food that her non-boyfriend made for her to make her feel better about having a horrendously uncomfortable and humiliating examination. The reason I believe this is I just went over to the table where she's sitting to grab my Ibuprofen, and I saw pie crust, ice cream and frozen strawberry on her plate. It looked amazingly like the pie that Dan made for me. I really want to confront her about it because WTF, but everytime something like this happens my heart races and I get too nervous/afraid/anxious to talk to the person about it. 

Edit
: I asked her if it was the pie that was in the freezer. It was. She said she thought it was Nicoles. Uh, a) Nicole can't have wheat (in the pie crust), b) since when does she eat strawberries and c) she hasn't even been here much in the past two and a half weeks, why would she have a half-eaten pie here (and why would Pauline eat it without asking her?). It's not that hard to ASK. Stupid bitch. Now my heart is racing. This is why we don't get along.

and rant

Feb. 11th, 2009 08:36 pm
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On another note, this pisses me off. Prior to this, she was subsisting on $500 in food stamps a month, disability payments for three of her children, student loans, and her parents' help -- and she insists that she's "not living off any taxpayer money." Riiiight, because food stamps and disability checks totally don't come out of taxpayers' pockets. Oh, and the hospital where the octuplets were born is looking for reimbursement from Medi-Cal, the state healthcare program for the poor (ie, funded by taxpayers). If she couldn't afford to raise the first six on her own, she shouldn't have had eight more. It's irresponsible and it's not fair that we have to pick up the slack for her stupidity. The state of California could be laying off 10,000 workers later this week, and we're supposed to spend tax money that we don't have on children that she knew she couldn't afford even before she chose to use fertility treatments to get pregnant??? Yeah, that makes sense. Even her own mother regards Nadya's actions as "unconscionable." Not only that, it was thoughtless to have so many children at one time because it adversly affects their health -- they're nearly always premature and often times several die because of that (none of them were even three pounds when born). The death threats against her are completely over the top. I can I understand why people are upset, but threatening to kill her? Come on, people. 

And
this is absolutely disgusting. I can't believe people who have supposedly dedicated their lives to upholding the law would do such a thing. I'm just... speechless and appalled. I don't know what to say. 

Edit: Awwww this is adorable.

Edit the second: party poopers
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Honestly, Christmas this year was pretty terrible. My parents, aunts, uncles and grandparents spent all day talking about politics and the economy and how everything is the fault of those damn liberals (I'm a liberal). My sister was in extreme amounts of pain today due to her condition, so she was at the dinner table for about three minutes before she left to take a hot bath to help relax her muscles.  When she was done, Geena, Nick and I gave her about an hour long massage while we chatted and caught up with each other and got to know Geena better. My mom came in an hour and a half after us and told us we had to come out and socialize, and that we were being spoiled brats because we weren't. She tried to guilt trip us by saying our grandparents are in their seventies and won't be around forever. Nick and I came out, then after being ignored for 20 minutes (during which time Kelly, Geena and one aunt and uncle left) I was subjected to an inane conversation with an aunt I don't really care for about subjects that I really couldn't care less about (students she's teaching braille to, her friend's daughter goes to Tulane and OMG it snowed there!), and Mom came and sat in front of me and told me I could retreat back to the room. I am apparently a much better person now for putting up with my aunt. I HATE spending time with the woman. She talks about things she really doesn't understand, takes over private conversations that she wasn't involved in, and is just really annoying overall. 

Mom doesn't understand Kelly's situation. She thinks Kelly's going to get better and be able to go off all her pain medications and blah blah blah. I'm pretty sure she doesn't completely believe the extent of Kelly's problems. I asked Mom if I could take Kelly and Geena back to San Jose so Kelly would have access to a better bed (sleeping poorly on and uncomfortable bed spells doom for her the next day), and she said no. When asked why, she said no. Hello! I'm 21 years old, I think I deserve a straight answer when I ask for one. Kelly and Geena aren't spending the night here anyway, how would taking them back to San Jose be so different?

 My parents apparently "don't believe in" global warming. And they've infected my youngest brother with their idiocy. My aunt sounds like she doesn't believe global warming is the fault of humans because there are natural cycles of global warming/cooling and points to the ice ages as her evidence. My mom comments on the weather and says things like, "global warming, riiiiight." I'm just so flabergasted that my parents can be so... dumb. My dad basically compared believing in global warming to believing that the sun revolved around the earth.

My aunt and uncle arrived today and took over the room that my brothers and I were sharing, so we've been kicked out and now we have to sleep in the livingroom. I've been wanting to sleep for the last two hours, but noooo, they're still out here, currently having a loud conversation about global warming. So, I've been kicked out of a room I already occupied and told I can sleep in the livingroom, but I'm being prevented from sleeping because they're having a conversation that's going nowhere.  IT'S ALMOST ONE AM, LET ME SLEEP, DAMNIT!

I am just so tired of my family being so idiotic. I would so much rather be out with my friends in San Jose or back with my boyfriend in SoCal. I hate hearing their whining and scapegoating and crap all the time. I am so done with it.

Kelly, Nick and Geena: The highlight of my day was spending time with you guys during Kelly's massage. I love you all. Merry Christmas. 

I sincerely hope your day was better than mine. Merry Christmas everyone. 
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Seriously? Fuck you, UCI. Don't promise a course then block enrollment and cancel it. I was counting on that course. I need it. And I would really like to take it before I take physiology lab, as recommended by my mentor who teaches it. Sometimes, I hate you.  Now I have a shit schedule, thanks to you. 
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*sigh* So, he responded to the email.  He obviously was not swayed one bit, and he accused me of being "uncivil and judgmental." I admit that I may have been a teeny bit rude, and I definitely scolded him like a child (which, given his maturity level...). He also completely twisted some of the things that I said ("if you wish to be at war" when I definitively said that I didn't) It's just... gah, you should read it:

The absurdity. It pains me. )

a) Did he seriously compare gay marriage to illegal drugs and porn?
b) I did not accuse him of supporting miscegenation laws, I correlated them to the ban on gay marriage
c) The 14th Amendment's equal protection clause. You said it yourself.
d) How is the Brown v. Board of Education decision different from the California Supreme Court decision?
e) Yay! You finally admitted that it's not just a "living arrangment"
f) Did you even read my email? I said that "we love you" and it's your vote that we don't agree with; I never said you were bad people, and my email wasn't angry. I could have given you pissed the fuck off, but I didn't.
g) Soooo everyone has to all follow your stupid conscience, but you don't have to think about how you impact people? If that were true, we would still have the miscegenation laws, and probably still have slavery. 
h) You have most definitely not been civil "about this whole thing." You told your eldest daughter that she is not worthy to marry the woman that she loves, and you have told all three of us to stfu. You twised my words and accused me of things that I didn't say. You told Kelly that she was responsible for "ripping the family apart" because she "incited Nick" to be rude to you and to hurt your precious feelings.
i) Grow up and develop a real conscience. You won't even respond to Kelly's email about her health, which has absolutely nothing to do with the current argument.

And Mother? At least say something about this. Avoiding it won't make it go away.
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After making a few revisions, I sent the email to my parents. All the parts in brackets were deleted, and some things were added or re-worded. I tried to keep it as non-inflammatory as possible, but they will probably still find reason to get upset, especially my father.

Read more... )

 
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I finally wrote back to my parents concerning their decision to vote "yes" on Prop 8. I meant to keep it short, but I ended up writing a term paper (okay, not quite). I decided not to try to talk them into believing that they believe the wrong thing because they will never budge on that issue. Instead, I'm trying to convince them that they did the wrong thing by you, K. Regions in brackets are parts that I probably won't end up sending because they have the potential to be incendiary.
 

Dear Parents )
 
Edit: This last bracket was left out unintentionally. Again, bracketed regions are things that I would like to say, but I won't send because it  they will only make matters worse. It was fun to write, especially the last part.
 

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Catherine

August 2011

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