macking.around.the.world

Weekend Update

I managed to piss off Dad yesterday. Shocking, I know…

He spent the rest of yesterday acting like a child in attempt to make me upset. I’m embarrassed to say it worked for part of the day. Today he’s going through the house and picking apart everything he knows is mine and complaining about it loudly.

“WHAT IS THIS? WHAT’S IN THE DRYER, WHO PUT THIS HERE? THIS IS GOING TO CATCH ON FIRE.”

“WHY IS THIS JUG OF WATER HERE? WHY IS IT IN GLASS? WHO PUT THIS HERE, THIS IS AN ACCIDENT WAITING TO HAPPEN.”

“WHAT IS ALL THIS CRAP IN THE CLOSET? WHO PUT ALL THIS CRAP IN THE CLOSET, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET TO THE STUFF IN THE BACK? THIS IS GOING TO FALL ALL OVER, THIS IS AN ACCIDENT WAITING TO HAPPEN.”

In order:

1- Milo’s fleece blankets that I didn’t even *wash* in the machine, I did them by hand because I didn’t want to hear any bitching. Oops, fleece takes a long time to dry, but isn’t that what the dryer is for?

2- My toner that has been there since February in the SAME SPOT underneath the sink and he HELPED me when the lid got stuck on the jar so he damn well knows exactly what it is. And it’s a jam jar, not a water jug.

3- My fabric in the game closet underneath the stairs. That stuff has been there for years and nobody has any reason to get to the back of the closet, least of all him.

In other news, I need something happy to type about or I can turn this into an art blog and just never post.

Ugh, I have a folder with forty three pictures in it labeled “THINGS I NEED TO DRAW.” Not a single one has been even looked at.

One is meant to be painted, two are meant to be combined and around 80% is Tom Hiddleston because his face is awesome.

And there is one that I do not have a reference picture for because CERTAIN INDIVIDUALS do not have one single front on photograph of themselves available to the interneting public.

Knowing me, that will be the first one drawn.

I would like to eventually get over myself and re-upload the photoshop/ tablet programming and, oh I don’t know… learn to draw on it? How many years did I covet that thing and while I have used it for very important things, I have never used it for the purpose I so craved it for.

I should maybe get on that…. it would save me the stress. And paint….

OH WAIT, I HAVE PASTELS!

rainingfoodcoloring asked: Was randomly stalking your tumblr cuz I do that <.< Anyway I agree, it was totally unecessary that they had to announce that to the whole backyard and make you look like an idiot. I mean just because we have people over and they all work together doesn't mean everyone needs to know when there's an issue. God forbid dad or bro, or mom even, does something, we cover it up and hide it as much as possible. But if Finn messes up, nope, everyone just has to know.

I’m over it now. I was really pissed yesterday and I think I needed an excuse to vent. But I agree, if Dad and Brother do crap, it just gets swept under the mat and it didn’t happen SETTING HANDS ON FIRE. What?

Oh also, hush you mouth, I love you Munchie.

I honestly don’t know why I bother trying to associate with people anymore.

Every single time they have people over to this stupid house, I stay in my room the entire day and when I finally decide to come out and socialize, I get demeaned in front of everyone.

I hate this entire family. All they care about is appearance and how they look to the outside and it is complete and utter trash. My parents hate each other, and Mom hates all of these people, but they pretend because god forbid we look like a dysfunctional mess. Brother loathes every single person out there, including the children, but he’s out there being just so super nice and sweet to everyone, except for me. Who the fuck are you and where is the sarcastic asshole that rolled out of your bed this morning? You know, the one that actually likes me.

Why is it okay that Brother can make flaming marshmallows, but the minute one flies off my stick because I flicked it a little too hard, do I get screamed at in front of the entire yard? Our yard is HUGE, and all of the people in it think that I’m the black sheep of this fucking family. Finn doesn’t go to karate. Finn doesn’t come by the school. Finn doesn’t talk to anyone here and stays in her room, FINN MUST BE A FREAK. SHE’S SO STRANGE, WHY ISN’T SHE LIKE ALL THE OTHER GIRLS HER AGE?

Fuck all of them. Fuck every single one of them and their stupid children, staring at me with their tiny, judgmental eyes. I hate them all. I don’t know why I try so hard to fit in to a group of people that just don’t fucking get it, that just don’t fucking get me, that just don’t fucking LIKE me, that I DON’T EVEN FUCKING LIKE. Why do I try so hard? Why do I strive for human contact with people that are so superficial and phony that they can barely be considered human, if it weren’t for the blood in their veins. Why. Do. I. Bother.

Fuck you, with your fucking bikini and your sunglasses and your stupid acne that you insist is a medical problem and not caused by all the crap you eat and your dirty pillowcase and all the lies you tell yourself. Fuck your children, who I can’t even tell apart and who are just SO fucking pleasant to me, even though they don’t know why they do it. Fuck your evil bitch of a daughter, who isn’t even here, but I just hate her so much that she might as well be. Fuck your secretary, with HER bikini and her tattooed husband and all her tiny children that I’m not FUCKING ALLOWED TO FUCKING CURSE IN FRONT OF. Fuck your shop manager, who is so uptight that he can’t admit to himself that he’s gay and attempts to cover that fact by awkwardly hitting on me with that condescending tone of, “I’m better than you are, I went to college.” At least I can be real with myself, jackass. Don’t try to fucking flirt with me, you don’t even like me. Our civil relationship ended in 11th grade when I stained your fucking sweater, you nasty bitch.

Fuck all of them.

Mom just came up to tell me that “Brother gets embarrassed,” and, “that’s the reason why he yelled at you.” So that he didn’t look like an idiot for something that I did? THANKS BROTHER. THANKS FOR CALLING ATTENTION TO A BLACKENED MARSHMALLOW SHELL THAT WASN’T ACTUALLY ON FIRE, THAT LAUNCHED ITSELF OFF MY STICK AND FLEW ONTO THE GRASS BEHIND ME, WELL OUT OF THE WAY OF YOUR 5 AND 9 YEAR OLD GROUPIES.

I would rather spend the entire day sitting on my inbox and hanging out with a creature who still thinks that I’m trying to eat him. Oh wait.

I had this dream that I had this massive blowout with my father’s boss at the party today.

It involved her saying something catty to me, which is really not her character, and me smiling calmly and telling her to get out. “Get out of my house. This is my house, and I am telling you to get out.”

To which she replied, “HA. I pay for this house.” And I just kept calmly saying, “Get out of my house. Get out of my house.”

It was all well and good, and I even thought about it possibly actually happening at the party later… until I realized I would be thrown out on my ass for daring to talk back to the Payer of the Bills. My father would never defend me to that woman. He would call the police on me and have me removed from the house. The house I have lived in for eighteen years. My house.

Lovely. Today is just going to be so much fun.

There was a point in my life recently when I let go of inhibition.

I stopped caring what other people thought about my outward expression and I started doing what felt comfortable. I stopped listening to false friends who “only wanted the best” and I stopped caring about their feelings and started feeling mine. I stopped worrying about my hair because it doesn’t matter if it sticks up in all directions, as long as it’s clean and healthy, I will style it when I want. I stopped dressing in what I thought other people would think is “hip” and I put on what pleases me at that moment. I stopped agonizing over the protocol of orders and just started taking everything because money is cool and I really like baking cake. I bought a hedgehog because hedgehogs are cool and it doesn’t matter that nobody “get’s it” because he’s my pet and I love him, little poo machine that he is. I go to sleep when I am tired and I sleep with the fan on because I like the noise. I carry rocks in my bra because it pleases me to do so. I cut all my hair off because I wanted to know how men felt. I walked into the hallway naked this morning. I ate in the same Chinese restaurant three days in a row and I will eat there tomorrow too. I wore suede boots with shorts. I chose happy over angry.

And today I made something happen. It was something little, and it thought it was happening but it had no idea how real it was going to become.

Today I feel real.

Today I feel accomplished.

Today I feel happy.

I’m listening to old Tony performances and crying like a baby.

How have I never thought to do this before?!

I’ve gotten through Spring Awakening, Wickedand Jennifer Holliday singing “You’re Gonna Love Me,” from Dreamgirls.

What am I going to watch next?

RENT. RENT. RENT. OH. MY. LORD.

I need more money so I can go back to seeing shows again. I miss this so much.

Baby is out.

It never occurred to me that having a pet meant that my room would become a bloody zoo. “CAN I PICK HIM UP?! IS HE AWAKE?! WHEN IS HE COMING OUT?! CAN I USE HIM TO SCRUB THE DISHES?! SO I WENT IN YOUR ROOM WHILE YOU WERE OUT AND HE WAS SLEEPING, WHAT DOES HE DO ALL DAY?!”

Good lord, go play with your birds already and get out of my room.

I always feel proud of myself when my parents talk my business up to their friends/ clients.

“I’m special, they love me and they’re proud of me because I’m awesome.”

..

Until I realize that I then am going to have to actually do work for these people.

But hey, money, right?

I have all day tomorrow to chill and get some hobby type stuff done.

The only *need to do* things will just take up two hours.

I made an entire list of things I need to draw, but I also have this canvas… and I can’t remember who I wanted to paint. I feel like it was blue. I want to paint so badly and I’m going to be really irritated if I get halfway through painting something else on the canvas I sacrificed for something specific… and I remember what I wanted to paint. Crap.

My list of things to draw includes some internet people that don’t know I plan on drawing them, Snow and her friend, some movie stuff, a wild Adam Pascal, and.. lots of Hiddleston. He’s just got such a lovely face, I can’t help that it needs to go on paper.

I CAN BREAK OUT MY OILS. OH. MY. JEEBUS. I am so excited now.