That was an approximation of a joke told by a guy dressed up as Al Gore on SNL four years ago... It's funny, because American voting ballots are *really* hard to figure out. I know, I sort of voted! Not really, but I got to help. I love American politics, they're so interesting. I really want to join the College Republicans when I get accepted to wherever God intends for me to go. And I'll really get to help out, and dip my feet in the pools of politics.
I do need to learn more about foreign affairs, but I'm kept politely ignorant about most of it. As far as I know, every country but ours has a Parliament and Prime Minister. Well, except for France. And those countries in the Middle East with the dicators aren't countries at all. (Kidding!) But, really, I wonder what other kinds of government there are? Oligarchy? Monarchy? True democracy? True Republic? Fascism? Communism? Military Dictatorship? I'm not going to learn just sittin' here, waiting for Kelly to email me my AP English homework, will I? No, I suppose not. Of course, AP English homework won't teach me anything more than a review of literary terms used in poetry. I mean, honestly, how many times to I have to learn the different kinds of imagery? I don't know anything about meter, I think that's what we should learn about. I can do the artsy stuff, but I can't get down to the nitty gritty. We always have to seem above that, though, don't we?
A lot has been going on, I suppose. I think these family issues are making me physically ill. Cold sores, sick tummy (I coated that one with a layer of sugar), even my face is breaking out. I knew stress could have a hand in this, but I didn't know it was that bad.
Would you belive that Halloween could be such a bad holiday for my family? Five years ago my dad triggered my brother's diabetes, and he was hospitalised (at age nine, mind you) for his disease, all over Halloween. I remember it precisely... he got out of the hospital on Halloween around dinner-time, and my dad had bought him a Star Wars costume (though, I don't know why, as we both hate Star Wars), but I wanted to be Queen Amidala, so I made my own costume (with the help of my very tired mum) in an hour or so. It turned out to rock out loud, but my point lies backwards a bit. So, five years from that point my dad tells us in the car that he doesn't want to be around us anymore... again! So! What's going to happen this time?
I'm not quite sure. But I'm not afraid.
My mum's worried that I'll be the one to get sick now. To tell the truth, the only drawback that'll mean, in my opinion, is the money for medical supplies it will require. Not that I want it, I'd prefer nothing happen to anyone, but my brother would have someone else to go through it with. I doubt anything will adversely affect my health so momentously, I tend to take out my aggressions well enough to ward off all but the flu.
But all this makes it hard to think. It's hard to concentrate on typing, even. All I really want to do is sleep, but I can't do that, either. I can't help but wonder why someone could go without loving my mum and brother... my mum's so pretty, and my brother so talented and smart. We've been thrown over for prostitutes, with disease and lacking highschool educations. I've known about it since I was able to comprehend it, but, it still gets to me. I don't mind so much about not being loved, I can take that, I find it hard to respect myself sometimes, even. But my mum deserves far better, and my brother's already been through more than most people will ever know.
And what astounds me is that my brother still maintains his integrity. My father's father treated my father the same way he treats my brother, only it's worse for little Ben, because my dad knows that Ben has got a brain in his head capable of far better things than sin and sex, and his future is a bright one. My dad resents that, I think. He's never held women in a very kind regard, but at the same time in his chauvenistic mind, he pities our money-hungering. But when another being of testosterone threatens him, he's going to be angry. And my brother's already so thin from his disease that he can't fight back physically, and so frightened from his past that he can't continually overcome it mentally. My brother can't be in a room alone, nor does he like the colour red. He doesn't say it, but when my dad punched that hole through my brother's bedroom wall (aiming just above his head), the plaster fell all over his red bed-spread, and he cried and begged my mum to not make him sleep under the colour anymore. Since then we've tried to push his furniture against the bottom part of his walls that we've painted red, and my mum stopped buying him red shirts.
And poor kid, being a Republican who doesn't like red.
Luckily because of his age, he's getting better at handling it, but inside he's just like me. I think it's part of being young to build up the exterior I have, but inside I'm so scared. I know it'll get better though. Soon I'll get to go to college, and I'll have a job to buy my mum a trip to London, and my brother any videogame he wants.
I wonder if my dad still has a link to my diary... maybe I should lock this thing for a week or two. I really only typed that political stuff at the top to throw him off. He cares so little that I doubt he'd read past the first two paragraphs. I could be completely wrong, but that's just the feeling that I get. And those feelings are never wrong! But, just in case, I'll let this entry sit for two days, and then lock it. Just a warning to any rings I belong to! I don't want to be *actually* hit by my dad next time I see him. I've avoided it far too many times.
SILENCE, TRAITOR! - 2006-05-10
Irish History - 2006-05-02
Goodbye Bio! - 2006-05-01
DANCE, WATER! DANCE! - 2006-04-26
Gaaaaaah. - 2006-04-24