nagia: (abstract; family: it's what matters)
[personal profile] nagia: "1 refills before 10/1/2011." Stop calling me. I'll consider fixing your computer when I come to get my bedroom set.

Mom: For what?

[personal profile] nagia: The Ambien.

Mom: Thanks now they won't fill it since its after 10/1/2011. Nice going. I helped u out with that and u stuck it to me. I don't want u to fix computer just return what u took. U are not allowed back in here all of ur stuff will be delivered.

[personal profile] nagia: I fail to see how or why you would MAIL my furniture or pay for it to be moved when I can move it at no expense to you. Be logical.

Mom: I didn't say mail. I said delivered by the pick up. When are we gonna talk?

[personal profile] nagia: When I come get my furniture.

Mom: Ur not coming back in here until we talk. I'm on the lease u are not.

[personal profile] nagia: Whatever. Stop contacting me.

Mom: I am your mother Katie and i don't deserve this. U are behaving like the most ungrateful daughter ever born. Damn near soulless.

[personal profile] nagia: I haven't heard that from a busload of nuns before.

Mom: I'm loading up ur stuff now and taking it to ur dad's driveway.

[personal profile] nagia: Bullshit. What's his address?

Mom: He still lives in quail hollow. Do my best not to scratch it.




I could potentially get her arrested, or at least try to. She's claimed there's a warrant out for her arrest. (Of course, then she claimed she lied.)
nagia: (da2; WHERE IS YOUR GOD NOW ELTHINA?)
Okay, background.

I have been fucking disowned by my mother. Her last words to me, when I packed my shit and left, were that she hoped I died in a car crash. My mother told me she wants me to die in a car crash. That kind of emotional tailspin does not magically disappear just because I've been verbally hired by a decent-paying job. I will not feel better about any of this shit until I have a concrete start date, and possibly my first paycheck in my hand -- and that will just mean the end of "What am I going to do? How am I going to eat? Where am I going to live" fretting, not the emotional fucking tailspin of my own mother apparently hating me.

Crazed ranting. Cross-reference any post regarding my father ever. )

It's the "constantly expecting me to magically be over this" and the constant, neverending TOUCHING that is really bothering me. I am extremely straight-forward. If I tell you that I'm in a fucked-up emotional place that isn't going to get fixed anytime soon, I mean it. And if I tell you not to fucking touch me until I feel better, I mean that, too.
nagia: (ffxii; basch; ruin impendent)
One: I HAVE INTERNETS AGAIN. I had to install some asinine program to make my damnned router cooperate with the Orichalcum (though it and jumpKick get along just fine without said program. I FIND THIS SUSPICIOUS), and the program was wigging out. Finally settled it. Hopefullly no more "Internet! Actually, no internet! Can have! No, can't have!" crap.

Two: It occurs to me. Garrus is widely accepted to be one of the friendlier and more social squaddies (at least in ME2), if you can tear him away from his calibrations. Sociable guy who led a team of badasses on Omega, and you can't ask him what he thinks of the squad? I call bullshit.

Three: My aunt has finally taken her damn terrier puppy back. Thank bog. Puppy kept me up from Friday through Sunday with whining and various puppy forms of crying. Loudly. Which is strange, because he's never been so freaked about staying here before. But this visitl, he was acting stressed and whining all night, every night. (I am not the kind of person who can tune out loud yelping noises, or any other sound of animal distress.) Add that to various forms of family drama and I have been ready to go murderously insane.
nagia: (abstract; family: it's what matters)
I think I'm going to start screaming.

I'm not sure when I'm going to stop.
nagia: (ffx; auron; not now am angsting)
No more riddles,
No more jests.
No more curses you can't undo,
Left by fathers you never knew...
No more quests.

No more feelings;
Time to shut the door.
Just -- no more.

Running away, let's do it --
Free from the ties that bind!
No more despair,
Or burdens to bear,
Out there in the yonder.

Running away -- go to it!
Where did you have in mind?
Have to take care:
Unless there's a "where,"
You'll only be wandering blind.
Just more questions;
Different kind.
nagia: (resi;  thorns pierce deep as a rose's)
So, I went to bed before midnight. Naturaly, I woke up at two. (Naturally.) I finally got back to sleep at around eight, maybe. My grandfather walks into my room at 9:30, hands me his phone, and walks out.

From the phone comes a voice. In my distressed and tired state, I'm not even sure who the fuck is talking to me.

"I'm sorry to wake you up, but wake up! Pack a bag! You're going on a roadtrip."

My brain, very fuzzily, insists that it has no idea what the fuck he's talking about. Roadtrip whathtefuck.

"We're going to swing by your place tonight, take you to New Orleans, and be back sometime tomorrow."

Okay, now I think I'm starting to figure out who the speaker is. I think it's my mother's fiancee. Wait a minute, New Orleans?

"I've never been to New Orleans," says I.

"Well, you're going today."

Rick knows my weakness: I am too tired to ask the sane questions, like, "What the fuck happened to asking me, you dumbass?" Instead I say, "Yeah, sure, I'll pack, can I go back to bed now?"

So, later today, I am apparently going to New Orleans for the very first time! I'd better get me some fucking voodoo.

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YOUR CHILDREN DESERVE LEXCORP JETPACKS

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