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January 21, 2003
Not. Happy. Jan
I don’t often get pissed off and I don’t often get annoyed with the whole god damned world. Today, I’m both. On a scale that defies comparison.
Why does it seem that every fucker has an opinion on how to get a job, and every fucker wants me to contact their ‘friend’. These friends invariably have fuck-all knowledge in the wider view of the world.
I’m sick to death of my mother. I love her. She’s the only one I have… but GOD DAMN she’s so irritating.
I understand why she is at me to get a job. Its expensive to live here, especially seeing as we’re paying with Australian dollars. I understand that.
What I don’t understand is why she doesn’t leave me the fuck alone, and give me just a hint of space to figure myself out and get organised. Instead, I’m dragged along to every fucking branch of the family tree, and pushed into going to fucked up antique fairs / fabric shops / adventures that rank so low on my scale of priorities, that I’d rather be practising active dentistry to wild crocodiles.
No, I don’t want to go with you to get some keys cut.
Why the fuck do I have to come with you when you want to walk around the shops, aimlessly?
I’m tired of it all. The holiday is over. I want ‘real life’ to start.
It could be something in the water, it could be something in the stars, it could be fucking hormonal for all I care. I want space. I want to get MY life back, instead of being some sidekick to my godamn mother. I want to be on my own ground, just for a little bit, so I can prove to her that I don’t need constant and active guidance 24/7.
But, the problem is, how do I politely tell my family to fuck off, seeing as I’m probably not going to be seeing them much in the near future? How do I get them off my back, when they’ve installed comfy seats with a popcorn maker firmly on top of my independence?
I hate this situation.
If one more fucker gives me any more advice about what they did way back when, or who they know in IT, or anything else… I’m going to scream.
You see those newspapers? Yeah… those ones that people have been handing me all fucking day. They do not have any IT jobs in them. Why? Well, fuckstain, Internet companies find it convenient to publish on the INTERNET. What a fucking shock. So, next time you hand me the paper with a knowing smile, wipe the shit-eating grin off your face and do me a favor - butt out. This is my life.
Posted by Jacqui at January 21, 2003 03:22 AM
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