backyard crowing
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needing some wings
dad said yesterday that he wanted to do the poetry thing sometime this summer. by poetry, i mean showing him some of my poetry and then putting beats behind it. thing is, i don't want to show him most of my poetry. infact, if i show him ANY of it and he searches google with it, he might run across my diary. i don't know yet, i haven't tried it. i suppose the reason i don't feel i can trust him is because he read my mother's diary. geez.
i want to do it because i'd like some critique on my poetry, but no one on xanga, deviantart, or here will critique it. i asked david (david my french conversation prof, not the other david, not the current object of my affection) in my last french letter if he would read my poetry. sadly i did not get the opportunity to retrieve said french letter, so i am left wondering if he replied with a "Heck yeah, show me your poetry!" or "I think not."
perhaps i should just e-mail him and explain the situation. after all, david is a published poet, so he knows a thing or three million about the trade. he's a poetry buff, he is! so who knows? why wouldn't he read me?
i'm still not employed, but it's seven pm and i'm waiting till eight to call a manager at a mcdonald's that's a mere mile from my house. i hope someone hires me soon...!
fortunately my mother and i are getting along better, slowly but surely. i still can't wait until i graduate and flee the state/country, but at least now we're not fighting nearly as much, or with nearly as much conviction.
(ha.)
mr. internet boy called me last night. this is the dude who i met on xanga, and we went out on a date to the metro cafe on guadalupe. i haven't been on aim at all lately because i no longer have internet connection at my mom's house, and my dad's computer doesn't have aim. that is not to say that i wish it did; i'm partial to an aim-less computer, especially when some of the little phrases i type to internet boy aren't so *ahem* on the up-and-up. dad would freak if an instant message popped up with, "Wanna fuck?"
and yes, mr. internet boy HAS said this, but not in seriousness. (at least i hope not.)
i'm sure he's a nice guy and all, but no father wants to see that kind of thing.
besides, i don't think the dude is so nice--everytime i've talked with him, he's complaining about how he has had a shitty day. now, he once had two jobs, but now he has only one. when he called me last night, he had just finished a shift from 12 noon to 11 pm. i agree, that sucks. but to a person who has been looking for employment for OVER A MONTH now, i don't pity him one bit. he's working one job, and that's at johnny carino's, a fancy italian restaurant. i'm sorry dude, i have little sympathy for you at the moment. maybe i just don't know the full story...lots can go wrong at a restaurant.
i miss having my own place at college. i can't wait to go back! ah, to have no mother and father again!
dad says he hopes i feel differently about relocating to a faraway place after graduation, but i highly doubt anything of the sort will change. i need my independence, and in order to acquire that, i simply MUST get out of here, and miles upon miles upon miles out of here. my parents will never remarry, and they will never get on with each other (or get on each other, heh) again. so much for full siblings.
ANYWAY, my point is that this chick ain't gonna stay anywhere near texas. i need to be unreachable except by plane. i need to move so far away that flying is not just cheaper than driving; it's downright necessary. you wouldn't drive to new york, or canada, and you out-and-out couldn't get to europe without hitching a ride on some wings.
- sunday, June 25, 2006
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