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Jul. 30th, 2010 @ 02:32 am Three Weeks
Current Location: A million miles away
Current Mood: frustratedfrustrated
Current Music: Nicki Minaj-Roger That
Can I please just have one decent summer? Is that too much to ask for? Can I have one summer without my over-controlling, guilt-tripping stepfather freaking trying to direct my life like a runway patroller? Can I just have one summer where I have fun with my siblings, meet a cute boy and have a summer fling, work a fantastic job, and just relax? Please, God?

Ugh. I am LITERALLY at my wits’ end at home right now. I have three weeks to go until I leave, and these will possibly be the three longest weeks in the history of long weeks. For one, my stepfather has taken it upon himself to “help me out” with my future. In layman’s terms, this means deciding to pay for more than have my rent (which I didn’t need), researching medical schools (which I have already done) and assisting me with my spending by “monitoring my statements” (I.e. I have to send them my debit card statements each month).

Let me reiterate: I did not ASK for this!

All I wanted was my rent paid, and fifty bucks when I went back to college. But what does he do? He decides that me asking for help was a sign that I want him back in my life “helping me” and just barges in. ARRRRR!!!! I take it back completely. Going into IB wasn’t my biggest mistake. Asking my step dad for money was. Other shoe, you may not drop.

I should have known better. I should have stayed in Orlando. I should have, I should have, I should have. I could go on and on with the shoulda-woulda-coulda, but I will not. It’s useless, and it doesn’t help me at all. I’m just so tired of this. I hate being here because it just reminds me of not having control of my life, of having everything planned out for me and then coerced into the decision my parents want rather then having the decision truly left up to me, like they always say they will.

I cannot make them see that, though. Defending myself to my step dad is like talking to a wall made of naquadah (Stargate nod!). He will not hear me out. And lately he has taken to blaming me for every bad thing that has happened to the family in the last five years. Yay, self-esteem.

And my mom. Ha. Where do I start? For one, I cannot figure her out to save my life. She’s like tri-polar. One minute it’s super-perfect Christian wife, the next it’s screw-Dad mother, and the next, it’s this weird, hybrid in between person that I cannot even describe. She’s so inconsistent, it’s ridiculous. And I think she’s the reason why I’m the same. I’m inconsistent about people as well, and that’s not a good thing. I’m working on it, mind you, but still.

It’s a fact, that we carry on many of the characteristics our parents have. Now, it’s nothing like Lamarck’s Acquired characteristics theory, but I do believe that some behavioral and personality traits that we gain or learn from out parents do end up sticking with us in the long run.

Main question: Am I going to turn out like her?

I have to admit, that’s my biggest fear.
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ucf, Spring 2010