The Fuck-It-All Attitude.

I’m homeless, I tell you. The good things about the dorm are the bad things at home. The bad things at the dorm are the good things at home. Or something. At least in terms of the shower and socialness. I hate being here. This environment is poison. It’s like being stuck paralyzed in a ditch, being afraid that doing anything to change your position will just make everything worse.

Dad gave me the “We’re paying a lot of money for you to be there…” line again. I’m sick of that shit. My internal monologue consisted of a lot of “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you..” but I managed to say “Thanks for the pressure” on two occasions. What movie is it in which a kid gets told, “You’ll never get anywhere in life with that fuck-you attitude.” Or was it the “fuck-it-all” attitude. I forget. All I know is I’m a lot happier and confident when I’m running on anger.

Him telling me how he studied six nights a week doesn’t make me feel better. It doesn’ t motivate me. It’s pressure. It’s like him saying, “I did it, dipshit, and if you can’t do it, you suck.” Him telling me to study more, as if I’m not aware of the fact. Gee, maybe I should party less, ya think? Him telling me to GOTO bed earlier. Fuck you, 1 AM or midnight is early. When he said, “Where there is a will, there is a way,” I simply replied, “I have no will.” Apathy is a state of mind, but not an excuse. This much, I know. I just don’t give a shit about any of this. I don’t want to do any of this. Read? Essays? Exams? Bullshit, all of it! Suck my dick, college, you never taught me anything in the classroom.

We were talking about what to do about the Van. I swear, I had to tell him at LEAST five times that Spring Break is two weeks from now. He kept saying that it’s weeks away. Dipshit, pay attention. TWO WEEKS. Maybe the first three times, I can excuse. But after that, COME ON. Even my memory isn’t that bad. He kept saying we should take it to a local mechanic. He’s all afraid of driving it. Fuck it, I’m more afraid of local mechanics. Fuck them all! (Always have a close relationship with your mechanic.)

He also thought of towing it. Maybe I’m just more daring when it comes to my own shit. I’d rather take my chances going 30 miles than paying money. Anyway. He asked when I have classes next money. I said 1:10 and 7:40 PM. He told me to get up at 8 or 9 AM. He knows I hate getting up early. Getting up that early will totally exhaust me for the day. He gets all loud, saying that I WILL GET UP, or the van won’t get fixed. My reaction was more or less, “Excuse me, you’re pulling an authoritative trip on me.” I’m not arguing with an idea he pulled out of his ass.

The van moves. *laughs* Without going into storymode, I’ll just explain. My guess is that I’ve had no rear brakes for a while now. No, seriously. I never really thought that noise I heard while braking was a bad thing. It was pretty gentle, and only when stopping slowly. We did two laps around campus, and braking was pretty much silent as usual. My dad ceded to my idea of driving the van to Dave’s (our mechanic) and then him picking me up. Hmm. I wonder if I could walk to Cliff’s from there. I bet I could. wait a minute. Cliff could pick me up. I’m such an absent-minded dumbass, sometimes. I’ve just never seen Cliff drive, soo. Didn’t come to mind.

I’m betting the rear brakes froze to the wheels after I parked. And just. Stayed that way, preventing the van from moving. My dad jarred the van free last Friday. And so it had the weekend for the springs (or whatever) to retract. And I had no idea cars had rear brakes until this weekend. *laughs*

I’ll make my bed later. I need a shower, and it would be best if I did it before dinner. I’ll be cutting it a little close, but I can make it. (5:48 PM right now, dinner closes at 7 PM) Well, assuming I don’t take nudies of myself. *smirks* NUDIES IN MY MOUTH.

I spent the weekend doing absolutely nothing academic-related, despite how far behind I am in every single class. And damn, it felt good.