put your shirt back on

It's not that I can't get a god damned job to save my life. I'm bitter but I'm not overly upset.
It's not that I don't own a car. That's gonna happen, one day.
It's that I'm at home.

Home is being remodeled, completely DIY, off-the-cuff construction. And now that I'm home, I can help! Yay!

I don't mind labor. It's something to do. It's just how it's done here.

My mother is very much one to march to the beat of her own drummer. She does things her way, on her own internal timetable that seems to defy everything man knows about its fellow man through centuries of observation. Which is awesome. I want to be my mother when I grow up.

But there is a problem. There is no set schedule to what she does. She'll be cutting drywall one day, and then will ignore the job for the next week, almost as if she forgot about it. But she never forgets. No, she'd bidding her time. For what, the world may never know. But as a result, she works in spurts and sputters, confounding us all.

How this relates to me is thus: I help out when it's clear that there's work to be done. She stops, I stop, having no idea what her next step or plan of attack is. I wait. I sit around the house, kick my heels, and wait some more. I finally get bored and make plans. Then, boom, she's back at it and I'm stuck looking like a leech, living under her roof, eating her food, not lifting a finger to help rebuild the bathroom/re-enforce the gutters/pry up kitchen counters because I'm too busy going out with my friends.

And there's nothing I can do for it, because my mother does not plan and therefore cannot tell me ahead of time when to not be busy. It's like ships in the night.

This is, of course, overlooking the typical arguments over sleeping in (an outrage that I just do not understand in the slightest), gas, who has the car which night, who's going to drop everything to take my sister to her fifth softball tournament in as many days, and, of course, who's turn it is to take out the trash.
And I really do not want to get into the peripheral drama of friends and their relationships/breakups/emergencies/frustrations/issues, either.

It feels selfish, because it is, but I do not want to be here, and I have not enjoyed my stay. Barring some freak incident or absolute necessity of my being here, I do not foresee myself returning home for another summer. I am too used to doing my own thing, and it feels as if I'm the one doing all the bending.

All pertinent, I swear.

First off, I recently acquired the game Sims 3. That game is like a deadly sin. You know its wrong, BUT YOU JUST CANNOT STOP.
But really. God DAMN. That game.

Just. ERG.

Next, Drowning Pool concert tomorrow. Syked? Duh-HUR.

Today I tiled a wall. It was an adventure. More to come tomorrow, pre-concert.

And the big news. My grandfather is selling his truck. He may sell it to me. Or, okay, he may loan it to me after I sign a loan agreement, because I do not have four thousand dollars right this second. But I may be getting a truck.

Ask me how excited I am. Go ahead. I've got capslock.

Still jobless. My mother made me pick up an application to Wendy's the other day. It's now collecting dust on my dresser. I'm hoping she'll forget about it.

My feelings on the job situation still sit around the level of frustrated rage, depression, and a creeping sensation of apathy. I'm just waiting for someone to say that I'm not trying hard enough, because that person will lose teeth.

Yeah, I try not to dwell.

Anyway, we are re-tiling the downstairs bathroom. My younger sister has monopolized the family car to work her job of babysitting. I'm broke. I go back to school in August.

I seriously doubt I'm going to come back home after then. Even Christmas is looking doubtful at this point.

So, I recently got rich. While digging aimlessly in my backyard, hoping to find Jimmy Hoffa, or at least China, I found a lost Nazi shipment of gold bullion. Don't get too excited, though. I've pretty much burned my fortune on hookers and blow. That one blue girl was freaking expensive.
But she had nice eyes, so it worked out.

Anyway, in between orgies, I've been perusing st_xi_kink, where the bashful and the shameless come together to fulfill one another's wild and depraved fannish fantasies.
There's such a great atmosphere of camaraderie and perversion. Have a look!

Yeah. Also, happy Friday! I have little planned, since the Chippendale dancers kind of wore me out. There's some kind of beach party going down, with paintball and possible virgin sacrificing, but as it's been raining nonstop for a few days, such things fail to entice.

Also, what's a pack of dead virgins to watching Pineapple Express with Studly Thunder in a banana hammock?

Edit: Hmmm. I have received a kidnapping threat from the beach-goers, who vow to steal a car if necessary to snatch me from the street.
This has happened before, and I no longer have enough spare cash lying around to pay for bail (although I do have a few conflict diamonds and one limited edition Boba Fett figurine). Guess I'll have to go. For the good of mankind, you understand.

Dear People,

Whatever it is, whatever's going on with you and your life, or with someone else's, it's a pretty safe bet that I do not care.

You do your thing, I'll do mine.

This means not calling me in an absolute, self-righteous panic about something I can do jack-all about.

This means you get to make your own choices and mistakes.

This means dealing with your own problems/screw-ups/heartbreaks.

I'm not gonna judge, because that's just smug. And I'm sure as hell not gonna get involved. You need me, I'm there. But until my ass is actually needed, it's staying right here.

Who's to say who's living a better, happier life? It takes all kinds. Take a deep breath and take a pill or something.

Yeesh.

Love,
Z

Don't Stop Believing, by Journey, as cheesy as this is, may get me through this craziness.

I just had a conversation with my father about my game plan for my future school years. It's a lot to process, and there's a lot to be done. There's a lot of people I need to talk to, and, oh yeah, a LOT of classes that I gotta blow outta the water. Consistently. For years.

That does not explain why I am smiling.
For a sincerely lazy person, I seem to be hell-bent on this.

::hands::

That kitchen tile is done like a done thing!

::does a victory dance in my mind because I am too damn tired to move::

And this is clearly my reward:

J2 Freaky Friday PICS OMG!!!1!

Clearly I have done good works, for karma has repaid me in spades. Whoo.

So, officially on Spring Break, which is all kinds of awesome. I am so on vacation time.

Drove to the grandparent's house last night and woke up this morning to blueberry pancakes, tea, and labor. We're helping my grandmother redecorate her kitchen, which in this case means laying new tile. We spent all day scraping up uneven concrete and cutting/mounting cement backing to tile so we can tile the walls.

Tomorrow seems to involve actual tiling, and the day after, I get to shadow my aunt at work to see physical therapy in action! Woo!

Oof. Gonna go lie down now... Long (but good) day.