I hope everyone had a grand Thanksgiving and subsequent long weekend!
Today's title is brought to you by Fairly Oddparents! Because it involves Vikings and is, therefore, automatically great! Not that I'm saying totalitarian conquest of new lands and foreign peoples is great, but, if all of that were good, then Vikings would be wonderful. Despite their long beards and stereotypical red-hair, passed on to generations of Irish people, making it our stereotype instead. Would you believe that the majority of Ireland actually has brown hair? C'est vrai! I have both... But that's not the point.
Another thing I have to say, as a bit of housekeeping (or diarykeeping, I guess) is that this entire time I've been misspelling George Eliot's name. It's one "L", not two. You see, I've always known T.S. Eliot was spelled with one "L", so to differentiate the two names, I've always added in an extra in George's. Which is fine, I'm sure, since it's not even her real name. But, my point is, I'm sorry. I need to correct that. George Eliot. T.S. Eliot. Billy Elliot. Elliot from Will & Grace. Now you see why I'm so confused. Reading the books isn't enough, I have to try harder to not sound so ignorant from now on. So, I apologize. Maybe if I don't bring it up, it will all go away...
Which is a logic unapplied to my next bit of rambling. I really do hope you all had a lovely weekend, and if you have, just don't read the rest of the entry. I don't want to sound Count Olaf-ish, but I don't want to depress you.
Hate is a strong word. It's also one good Christians never use. I don't ever apply that word truthfully to something, but if I did it would be applied to a few things: running out of chapstick (I'm a chapstick fiend), Omarosa, Satan (okay, you know what, I do HATE Satan... from now on, his name isn't even capatalized, it's satan), turkey, Benjamin Franklin (he's haunting me, I swear it), and my dad. I know, it's terrible. It's a terrible thing to say, to claim that if I were to hate, I'd hate my dad. I wish I didn't have to feel this way. But I also wish he hadn't given my brother diabetes, I wish he'd stop putting my future in jeopardy, I wish I could stop crying during mass at Church because of all of the hurt he's caused me, I wish my mum could stop worrying herself to illness, and I wish he'd get himself mental help for sociopathism like he promised us. But that's not going to happen, so why should I feel good about him now?
You see, my parents aren't split, my father works in New York, and I live with my mother and brother eight hours away. Four or five years ago we were supposed to move up to New York with him, as soon as he got his new job at Columbia University. We put it off until the end of the school year, then we put it off until my highschool graduation. My highschool graduation is here, and now the move will never happen because my father, on Halloween, finally told us what we've known all along: he's kept us here so we wouldn't find out about what he's been doing up there. It's not like he hasn't cheated before. It began months after my mum married him. It continued through my birth, then my brother's birth after me. It was so bad that my brother's eyesight was permenantly damaged because my dad gave my mother an STD that passed to my brother in birth. But my dad never stopped. It's continued until this day. And every time my mother gathers up the courage to leave, my dad begs her not to, that he'll get help and be good.
Last time he came out and told us that he didn't want us to be a family was five years ago, causing enough stress to trigger my brother's diabetes. Then he begged my mum in front of the doctor to give him another chance, because he felt guilty. The time away from us has curbed that guilt, and now he's at it again. Except this time it's with someone who can cost his job, a woman he works with. Which, my mum's known all along. It became a written and signed agreement between my parents that my mum would stay with him until she graduates from college, and he would never withdraw large amounts of money without permission, nor would he bring his "New York life into Virginia." It's a lot less demanding of him that it is of my mother, but he thinks he's being the generous one.
So, he came to see us for Thanksgiving. All weekend his pager and cellphone rang. And Thanksgiving night (he hadn't even been with us except for a few hours) he walked outside of the house, closed the door, and called her back. Which was a clear violation of the rules. He not only broke the rules, but he wasn't discrete about it. When he was confronted, he tried to explain that the woman he's dating is suicidal and bulemic. Never mind the fact that when my mother was upset after I was born, he handed her a razor-blade, pushed her into the bathroom and told her, "The world won't be a worse place without you. Just don't get blood on my floor." I know, I saw the paperwork from the psychologist. Never mind the fact that at any moment my brother's life could be at stake due to bloodsugar, and we may not even know about it, all because of my dad. Besides that, what if I were suicidal? He never speaks to me at all, the five minutes we converse on the phone he always cuts me off mid-sentence to talk to someone else. For all he knows I could be anorexic, and more than likely, if I ever were, it would be because of him. So the reason he's bringing sickness into the home again, and reminding us all of it, is because his girlfriend has "emotional problems."
There's a lot wrong with that statement. Firstly, he's spending time with his children and wife while we all know he's got a girlfriend hours away. And she's the one with mental problems? Secondly, and this is going to be something that will make a lot of you very angry with me (it'll make me sound intolerant of pain), people with those kinds of suicidal tendencies who let people close to them know about it are MANIPULATIVE. I know that they're causing themselves pain, and that's terrible, but they're using that to control the people they know. A truly suicidal person commits suicide and gets it over with, that's why you hear, "I never expected it. She was always so happy." Those are the people that need companionship and love, the people that cut or make themselves throw up need to realize that it's a selfish act.
My proof: this disease has a name. It's called Munchausen's Sydrome. There are two forms: the regular kind, or the kind "by proxy". Munchausen's Syndrome by Proxy is a mental disease that causes mothers (or fathers) to go to great lengths to make their childrenh uncontrollably ill so that they may have attention. The Sixth Sense depicted this, the mother who killed her daughter by pouring Cascade in her food. There are mothers that inject their children with feces so that they have seizures, all for the sake of the attention. Munchausen's Syndrome is also applied to anyone who cuts herself (it's usually applied to females, though it can be males as well) for the attention. This can extend to overdosing, or taking drugs at all, but it must be done in front of someone almost as though the act were a beg for love. Even if it's someone who cuts herself and tells some friends, it's so she may have their adoration, even if it's pity. These people need help. Sometimes it's bulemia, sometimes it's just going to the hospital, and biting the lip on the way there so that the stomach is filled with blood upon arrival. Sometimes they even just lie about it, and claim to hurt themselves.
Well, if you don't believe that it wasn't manipulation, let's continue with the story. My father relinquished his cellphone and beeper to my mum, who read every email that came through. Every single one had to do with loneliness, pain, agony, and sickness. Never once was a "Happy Thanksgiving" or "Happy Birthday" included (it was my father's birthday the day after Thanksgiving... no, I didn't buy him anything) included. Then, when he turned off his cellphone instead of letting my mum answer it (he took it out of her hand, held it above her head, and turned it off), she went ballistic, called the woman, and yelled at her to stop calling the house. So, naturally, the woman called back eight or nine times, each time with a new lie. Then she emailed my dad that she didn't want to break up the family. Then she emailed my dad that she had taken too many tranquilizers and was rushed to the hospital. And the next day she emailed my dad that if she were fired for this, he would be too. (It was a distinct threat.)
Her manipulation of my father, however, cast a shadow over the real problem. It's not her fault what goes on: it's his. I think that if it weren't her, it'd be another woman, and she's not the problem here (the only part that makes me angry that it's her is because this could cost my dad the job that will get me a college education-- I can't even afford most regular colleges, let alone Ivy League). The problem is my dad is a SOCIOPATH. He's using this "romance" as a way to control us. HE DOESN'T CARE THAT I MIGHT NOT GO TO COLLEGE. What's more is that he DELIGHTS in it. HE DOESN'T CARE THAT MY BROTHER IS SICK. He's willing to lose medical-insurance, as a matter of fact. HE DOESN'T CARE IF WE'RE ALL DEAD. The only reason he's dating her is to HURT US. If he understands the pain he's causing us, and he continues to do it, and he comes home with it, and doesn't leave when my mum tells him to, he enjoys what he's doing. He enjoys to watch us writhe in pain. He enjoys knowing that I'm terrified of him, that I can't even tell him what I think.
He made it my fault that I never talk to him any more. I heard it out of his mouth, "She doesn't even talk to me about what colleges she's applying to." That's because he stopped me from saying "William and Ma..." in one phone-call. He's too much of a SICK MORON to realize that it's his fault. He projects his self-pity on others. He treats women poorly ("All you want is money, you can control women with money..." words directly from his mouth). He doesn't even take the responsibility of his children. That is sociopathic. He's a sociopath. We told him that, and he walked out the door, promising to see a doctor about it. He kept pushing back the date. "I'll go tomorrow. No, I'm going for a physical on the 7th, I'll go then." He won't go. Sociopaths never do. He likes what he's doing. He likes that he's causing Ben and I pain, he likes that he's got two women fighting over him. Little does he know that my mum isn't fighting over him, she's fighting that the border-line personality disorder woman stops calling the house when she knows that we can see what's going on.
My dad's dating her because in her he sees a pitiable woman whom he thinks he can control. He doesn't love her. What's more is that he's too stupid to realize that she doesn't love him, and that she's controlling him even more than he's controlling her. Pretty soon he's going to to crash and burn. He's either going to get AIDs and die, or he's going to get fired and dumped. And divorced. Either way, it's my mother, my brother, and I who pay the price for his stupidity. Luckily we're the ones who are the best off in any situation, because the only thing left out of this equation is the only thing that will result in a good end: God.
No matter what happens, God will get me the future I want. If I can't even pay for college, I'll move to California, starve myself, become a model, and put myself through school that way. There are filmmakers and actresses that have done it before, and I don't see why I'm any different. What's more, God will heal my brother, and I will pay for his education, because God has gifts for us both. And my mother will benefit well, she'll have the best dietetics job of all, and she'll be free of my destructive father. And the only place in his future is hell. With satan.
And we all know how I feel about satan.
Which also makes me angry-- I'm tired of hearing all these "free-thinking" people who say, "Think for yourselves! Ditch Xianity!" Firstly, if you're going to take the time to write an essay, take the time to type the name Christ. It's only five extra letters than "X", which amounts to two extra seconds, and it won't offend 80% of the United States. What's more, it's the equivalent of saying, "Think for yourselves by thinking just like me!" I read one essay that called to the theories of Freud, T.S. Eliot (though it was misspelled- it had two "L"s), and Charles Darwin, and then bashed the Bible by calling Its followers "mindless". How is it any different to follow the teachings of Freud than to follow the teachings of Psalms? But, don't try reasoning with an ignoramus, he'll never understand.
Never once have I heard a reasonable argument against following the Bible. What's more, all of the really, really bad arguments against It make me just want to follow It more. So, athiests, accept the ideals of others, and get over yourselves, because you're really not all that intelligent.
Get it? Fjord!