Back now. Pathetic supper, though.
Aha. Back to my absolutely horrible day. First off I had Bio and French. Is that even allowed??? Ghastly. My bio teacher hates us all. Not that I blame her. Everyone hates us. Last year the graduating class nearly killed us, the found us so annoying. It's not me and my friends. We're not saints, but we really are the better behaved students. Not bragging. It's true. One teacher once told our class at large that we made her reconsider her teaching job. High praise, no? It makes being a part of our class very interesting. Next we had Band (we did nothing, and I wasn't allowed to sleep), History (kill me NOW) and Gym (at least we're doing pyramids, and not something that requires real work). And then there was a bunch of minor things, which I won't bother putting down here. I have a slightly bigger issue on my mind.
What has been bugging me a lot, a LOT lately is that my parents pressure me. A lot. It would be funny, but... it's NOT. There was the going to school thing. They know and I know that I have never had good stamina and a fairly weak immune system. The fact that I�got mono two�years ago and relapsed a few months later due to stress should say something. I acknowledge the fact that I have missed about... 7, 8 days due to illness this year. But I am having a HELL of a time going in to school sick. Ok, ok. I am complaining now and I know it. I will stop complaining-about being sick.
My parents. When I was little, I would be able to say without lying, sucking up, or hesitation that I loved them and that I would do practically anything they asked me to. Now it is nearly the complete opposite. The pressure is on, girl, and if you land a job anything short of a doctorate in SOMETHING, then you�will become nothing short of a pariah. I will be the one that people shake their heads over at family reunions (*cough cough GOSSIPFEST! cough cough*. Jeez, this cold just won't shake.). They will mourn in quiet voices the loss of my fine potential. AND I HATE IT. I don't want a doctorate in anything. Well, I wouldn't MIND being a pediatrician. But that is not by far my first choice. My first choice is a writer. Reading and writing are my life. Here's the catch: never, ever ever ever in a hundred thousand aeons would my parents even consider PRETENDING to let me be one. Why, they figure, would they pay much, MUCH money a year for private school if their shining star�wouldn't even get paid more than the average person with welfare?
I understand that, but only to a point. It is MY freaking life and I refuse to be chained to a profession that does not interest me. I already have their opinions of people who go into some form of writing as their major at university or otherwise. Once my brother Samuel told them of a friend of his who was going into that, and they looked at each other and said, "That is such a shame. He's such a smart boy." Another time, we were discussing what my brothers and I wanted to be when we grew up. Samuel said an engineer. My little brother David said something to do with computers. I said (foolishly) an authour. Oh, Meu Deus. Of all the things I could have said that would have been "safe," I chose the one that would win me the LOOKS. All of them looked at me as though I had said that my fiercest desire was to move to Antarctica with a seventy-year-old hermit to study penguin mating rituals. My mother said, "You're joking, right?" and in order to avoid serious trouble, I said "Of course!" and everyone had a good laugh at my expense. At least I'm good for something. But my mom turned to me and said something along the lines of "You're too smart to be an authour. You have so much potential. Only strange people become authours." Little does she know how strange I am. Those have ot been the first disparaging comments made about authours from my parents' mouths. I will not repeat more of them here. Just let it be known that right now, I am writing a book and screw them if they don't want me to.
And what's worse, as I have mentioned before, I am my parent's star performer. It's horrible. I have two brothers, both of whom are perfectly capable of doing�perfectly well in school. Due to the fact that they don't try at ALL, their marks are lower than mine. It is not that my parents have given up on them. It is just that they expect me to be the "successful" one of the children. Once, my older brother's average went from a 70 to a 75, I believe. They practically held a party. Good show, Sam! Keep up the good work! I, on the other hand, returned from school with a report card that stated that my overall average had dropped a half of a percent. I was actually SAT DOWN with my parents, and I got a LECTURE about how I have to get better and try harder and not get the few TV shows I do watch get in the way with my school work. All in all, they were very disappointed with my work, young lady.
I MEAN, WHAT THE HELL?!?!?!
Sigh. I will stop now. Meu Deus, this is longer than I intended. I will stop the complaining session with a song recommendation. Umm.... what's one I want to recommend? Hmmm...... how about:
Goo Goo Dolls: Better Days. INCREDIBLE! Also by GGD: Iris, Let Love In, and I think the other one is Stay With You.
I'll go now. Enjoy the music!
~Annabel
Add comment
