(Name the mis-quote and I'll make you a CD... one with better music than the stuff I listed in the meme. I don't know why.)
One day's worth of LJ posting missed and my friends-list explodes. Guh. Apologies if I missed anything, but you all post such long and erudite entries that my brain couldn't cope...Saturday
We went to Ikea to get new chairs and new drawers for my room (one that actually match the wardrobe...) and consequently spent the rest of the day putting together two of the chairs and beeswaxing them to make them darker. Also managed to kill my hand by yanking the staples out of the bottom of the old chairs so I could take back the seat-covers I personally hand-painted. We're forming a box of stuff that I may one day need when I venture into the Big Wide World and get a place of my own. So far it's got aforesaid seat covers, a box of cutlery I bought at Uni, and a collinder. Eh, it's a start...
We're doing the kitchen out, as I think I mentioned. The reason this happened is because the fridge-freezer isn't big enough to accommodate three people's food, so David decided to bring his over as well, but it's one of those that's designed to be built into a unit, so we've replaced the cupboards and all the doors/drawers on the main units. It looks a lot better, but it also means we have to redecorate.
Eventually, we're hoping to move somewhere between Birmingham and Leamington (where David works), so doing the kitchen out will hopefully make the place more saleable. The council are also finally fixing the frelling water leak, which will involve getting contractors out because there's two foot of concrete beneath the pavement and the water pipes are under that
, which is about £2000-worth of repairs. And obviously, we're not council tenants so will have to hope the water board's insurance will cover it. But at least if it's fixed we'll have a frelling functional shower...
I'm not sure I want to move. I like this house. But another part of me just wants to escape, from everything; I'm getting the decorating bug again; I'm ready for the great adventure in the States... but at the same time, I hate disruption and chaos and would rather leave them to it...
Grah. There are lots of thoughts in my brain, but I can't articulate any of them. And I never thought I'd see the day when I had to admit to that. :(
Aside from that, we watched the random Queen tribute on Sky One prior to Dead Like Me
(which remains one of the cleverest things on television) and contemplated on the final video they shot before Freddie's death... it's one of the most depressing things I've ever seen, and yet, at the same time... it's a blessing. Only the good die young; there's a reason for that: so we don't have to watch them getting old, so the legend of their youth lives on.Sunday
Today was a day of mixed emotions. The usual dread of going to my father's pervaded, of course, along with a curious sensation upon waking. I dreamt I fell asleep with the television on and awoke to Graham Norton interview Robert Picardo, and when I woke to sunlight through the window, I felt like I was back in Derby. Quite odd.
In the car, I was contemplating the imminent task of broaching the subject of not going there any more. He asked me if "anything had been said" on Easter Sunday when we visited my grandmother, because apparently ever since then she's been pretty much ignoring Annabelle. So, obviously, I lied through my teeth and said no. My ability to lie convincingly (don't worry, I don't lie to my friends; I have no cause to) is an unfortunate quality I picked up from him, but sometimes, it comes in handy. And in the midst of this, I was thinking to myself, "Can I do this? Can I really break this family up more than it is already? Do I want that sitting on my shoulders for the rest of my life?" Because... because sometimes, it's strange - I don't like
my father, but sometimes, I feel a certain fondness for him. Fleeting, but there, and very disconcerting.
But then he goes and opens his mouth and it all shatters again. I think about what he's
done to the family, and it makes what I want to do pale in comparison. Two things stick out in my memory from today's car journey. The first was when I told him why I couldn't go last week - that I was meeting a random online person. The conversation went something like this:
Him: I thought you said you were going to lunch.
Me: I was. With the random online person. (Apparently, the two aren't compatible...)
Me: Yeah, I met her through livejournal. She was coming to a tattoo-convention. She's a tattoo designer.
Him: Oh. And does she have any on her person?
Me: Er, yeah. Quite a few. She's also a learning assistant and a few other things. She was going because her designs were at the convention...
I think he disapproves of absolutely everyone I know that he's never met. He disliked frightened
by default because of her sexuality (which happened to come up in conversation by accident once, and I think he was more shocked to discover I didn't keep it a secret and, moreover, didn't actually care); he dislikes izzles
because she designs pretty things for pretty people (he's come to terms with my tattoos because there's not a damn thing he can do about it, but doesn't like other people having them). Sorry, guys. You don't fit into his ideal view of the world, I'm afraid. Bah, I don't think I'm even making any sense. Sorry...
The other snippet of conversation was this:
Him: I think Annabelle wants to ask you about your friend in American and your aspirations to burger bars
Me: It's not a burger bar, it's a coffee shop! And there's nothing to tell; it's a plan, it might not even happen for another six years.
Him: She just wants someone to talk to; she's on her own in the house during the week.
Firstly: I have told him, and everyone, countless
times that the plan is for a coffeeshop, which is quite far removed from a burger bar. Secondly, if you could've heard the contempt in his voice when he said it... I nearly completely flipped. Aside from the fact that it's so much more than just being a coffee-waitress (it's helping a friend run her business, and, God-forbid, being somewhere I want to be doing something I want to do, and still having time to write) but the fact that he implied it's a waste of time and money and my education. Which, yeah, it probably is. But that's not his frelling place to say so. He's done nothing towards my education, knows nothing about my life or my plans or who I am, and therefore has no fucking right
to judge me on my aspirations.
Thirdly, in regards to Annabelle being lonely - what did he expect, anyway? He's working five days a week like the rest of us; of course
she's bored. I vote we find her a friend, one who'll seduce her. Just for my entertainment. Application forms to be sent via comment, please.
After going to Kwiksave we had to take an excursion to Christ Church in Quinton (where my grandmother's worked for about 40 years as verger) because he needed the rector to sign his remortgage form as he's a solicitor. We sat outside in the car until the end of service, which was meant to be at 11.30, but as it transpired it'd started late and they'd only just started the service at 11.45... Anyway, it was quite odd, going back there, realising how much of my childhood had been spent within those walls, sitting quietly through endless communions, funerals and weddings, attending Evening Guild events and day trips, and decorating the huge tree for Christmas... I miss that, sometimes. I wanted to get out of the car, wander around the building, perhaps go inside... it's been so long since I was in there and I remember every square inch of the building. It was a strange sort of nostalgia.
The rest of the day held the usual aggravations with the music channels, but I'm learning, slowly, to block it out.
Back home, I watched the final hour of Brief Encounter
and yearned to watch Casablanca
, and then watched In America
, quite an interesting film. This entry's taken about 45 minutes because my brain won't function. Bizarrely, I'm not dreading work. I think it really does
keep me sane.
Time for bed, said Zebedee.