This is uncharacteristically late of me…odd. Anyway, fair warning, there’s some language in this. By language I do not mean English. Or Russian. Or Nahuatl.
So today is the anniversary of Nine Eleven, one of the events that put someone on my if-I-ever-see-you-I-will-end-you-badly list. Let’s just say bin Laden is lucky those SEALs got him first, because if I got ahold of that rat fink panty-waisted wool-faced arse-licking backstabbing mass-murdering twat he’d flipping well look FORWARD to hell.
Ahem. Mild psychotic impulses aside, I received a letter of recommendation yesterday. From my baws. Or for those of you who prefer spelling, my boss. He had some pretty darn amazing things to say, which I didn’t expect at all and rather makes me think I may have low self-esteem. At work, according to my boss, I’m a super-hard worker, incredibly generous, happy-go-lucky, and have a big heart.
Now, that’s interesting, because I can see that applying in school as well (apart from the hard worker bit, but by golly I’m getting there! Just spent an hour studying for Government tests tomorrow yo!) and yet at home…at home I seem to be a different person. It’s like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, for Pete’s sake. I don’t get it.
Although being a genius I suppose I can begin the analysis, which is pronounced ann-uh-LICE-iss now, because I say so. First of all at work I’m constantly paranoid about how my job can be lost if I slack off so I work like an indefatigable engine of dishwashing that runs on Mountain Dew and constantly belts lines from Minecraft songs.
As for school, at school I’m with my friends and I can talk to them about whatever, including but not limited to how much we all hate bin Laden, my RP forum, video games, nerdy movies and TV shows, etc. etc.
I just realized I cannot do that at home. Well, technically I’ve known that for a while but regardless. My brother is the only one I can talk to these sorts of things about, though my dad is a Trekkie and likely would talk to me about that if I watch some Trek. ‘course he’s only seen TOS so once I start watching TNG and DS9 I’m screwed.
So my parents and I have very, very little in common. Well done there, on all accounts, but moving on to the next one we have me being paranoid and so doing a good job. By all accounts, if I’m money-motivated (and who isn’t, this is CAPITALISM, by God) my parents should account for most of my loyalty purely on those grounds alone – they pay for my food, shelter, utilities, clothing, toiletries, vehicle maintenance. Plus they put up with my rage-states. And on top of that they’re my parents, which automatically affords them a God-given level of authority to me (I’m not being sarcastic, stop thinking that!).
So what gives?
Initially I suppose I’m somewhat more secure in the fact that I won’t get thrown out of my house as easily as I could get fired. I push the lines every now and again but when push comes to shove I usually take the wiser course of action. Usually. Stop laughing.
Another theory I’ve been working on is that I have a semi-limited amount of tolerance per day, and that I spend all my “putting up with people I don’t agree with” at school and work and so when I get home I want me time. Which of course gets spoiled the next instant that my parents ask me to do something in the middle of a video game or something similar. Fun times.