Parents…I’m sure they mean well.

Wednesday, August 6, 2008 at 20:56 (Personal development)

Exasperating…that’s what comes to mind when I think of my parents at this moment. My dad asked me if I’ve given up on school the other day. My mom assumed that I couldn’t go back based on a brief conversation. Neither of them asked for clarification (well, my Dad sorta did, “So, I hear you’re giving up on school.”). I tried to make it clear to everyone that I’m taking a year off from school. I didn’t go into details, but left a huge window for people to come to me if they wanted more information (“feel free to ask for details, or to clarify any questions you may have.”) I don’t know how much more clear I can be than that. The only thought on my mom’s eyes is how much it’s going to cost. Yeah, mom, schools expensive, especially when it’s grad school, private grad school, and no scholarships, subsidizations, or federal assistance.

Yeah, I’ve come close to flunking out…or at least losing my financial aid (I don’t see how I can, because I have to pay it all back…WTF). Last semester, I was put on academic probation because of a paper that I had to rewrite, resulting in an Incomplete grade…apparently, you can only get one of those…and they put you on AP, which you then have to prove to the school that you will not get another incomplete, withdrawal or fail a class. Pretty stupid shit if you ask me…I’m glad I’m not one of my classmate’s who’s had several incompletes in the past year…possibly the past two years, I don’t recall.

So, yes, I’m taking a year off from school so I can get my ducks in a row. When I go back, I’ll still be working my ass off to make ends meet. I’m also going to be doing an internship (20+ hours/week), which I do for free, unpaid, and strictly volunteer basis. Yes, it’s going to be a pain in the ass, and I’ll still be accruing about $20k in student loans in the process…it may be each semester that I add that to my bill. I don’t recall.

That’s the price of graduate school. That’s the price of success. And in the process, I’ll probably still continue with my therapist ($60/session, atm eow), perhaps continue with my clinical tutor, although I sure as hell hope not ($70/session…probably 1/mo), and with my meditation instructor, who’s giving me a break. And of course, there’s living expenses, rent ($395), Gas…(fuck gas…I’m riding my bike in 10 feet of snow), car payments (just dropped to $200), Insurance (I’m getting raped for close to another $200, and only one claim in the past 3 years), and of course there’s food, and other expenses just to keep me sane. I hate living in this country, this state, this area. It’s annoying, but I have to do it at the moment.

My former classmates asked me why I have to work so much… And I think I have a spending issue. Which I admit that I do…when I have a spare dime, I want to spend it. As soon as I get paid, I want to go to the grocery store and get groceries so i don’t have to go out to eat all the time. In the first weekend after getting paid, I want to go out, buy a nice sandwich from subway, a burrito from Qdoba, or get a little voddy with some friends. I hate telling people I can’t afford to go out, because of my bills. Why are my bills so damned expensive? Well, it hurts when I don’t have credit, I don’t make dick (I’m one of the highest paid people at my level at work…and I make a lot of money in my mind).

So where do my parents fit in this? They don’t think I’m successful. They continually question my abilities. They question my choices. Why do you still do TKD, what’s it doing for you financially? Why do you still pay for classes? Why do you pay for someone to teach you still? What are you going to do for money when you’re not working for a year? What did you do, flunk out of school? Why can’t you succeed?

And it doesn’t help that I have to tell my mom, “I can’t come to visit you, because I can’t afford the gas to get back. Sorry, mom.”

I hate being a charity case. I hate not having money.

What I’m hating the most… People don’t ask me what the hell’s going on. People don’t fucking care, all they ask is how am I going to make it. I’ve made it this far. yeah, my sister’s helped me out a couple times…but both times it was for a brief period of time. The first time it was for 6 months, and I hated it, because I spent more on gas than anything. I felt like a kid, because I had to be in by 9 or after work, and I couldn’t make any noise past 10. The second time, it wasn’t as tight because her dick of a husband wasn’t there. Still, when I wasn’t working, I was watching my sister’s kids because she was working two jobs and going to school. This was when I, too was working two jobs, and not going to school. But it was my sister that helped me out…not the other way around. I’m the baby and can’t take care of myself.

Still, who was taking care of themselves at the age of 17 when his parents were off doing coke and whatever other drug they could get a hold of…or fucking their lesbian girlfriend because she didn’t need to be home? Who was the one that by the age of 18 was bouncing around various different homes because no one in his family understood his anger and kicked him out every month.

My parents separated a month into my senior year of high school. My dad left to live with my grandmother and during that time spent most of his free time higher than a kite in mid-March. My mom spent most of her time out with her girlfriend. My brother and I spent little time together and when she kicked him out for getting into a fight, I spent most of my nights alone or at friend’s houses… Occasionally, my mom grounded me when she actually came home and I wasn’t there… something she hated as much as I did. when house finally sold in April, I moved in with my mom and her girlfriend. I was kicked out a week or two before graduation and moved in with my alcoholic grandmother. I hated coming home to her belligerent tirades, so I cussed her out a lot… and she kicked me out around the end of May, around the time I graduated. I moved in with my uncle, who didn’t like how I was or wasn’t taking care of my cats, and so he kicked me out…moving back in with my grandmother. Every week, sometimes every other day, she told me to get out and never come back because I would cuss her out for being drunk. My dad did nothing to protect me from this behavior. Finally, my brother moved out and invited me to come live with him. My first stable home in about six months.

And people wonder where the anger comes from. Fuck my family. Yes, I felt abandoned. I felt left alone. In the September, perhaps October of my senior year, I went to Chicago with my mom. We split the bill for the tickets (essentially we bought our own…or something like that). Working part time at Hugh M. Woods, and paying for my own food at lunches, gas in the car, insurance, and some other expenses, I didn’t have much money for food in Chicago. My mom gave me shit for a couple years, because I “secretly” bought a Hard Rock Cafe cup as a souvenir. When I bombed my audition, because I played Hamlet too melancholy, isolative, and dark, she didn’t offer me words of encouragement, it was, “Well, maybe acting’s not what you need to pursue.”

yeah, my biggest fears are equally: Success and Failure.