I've been basically working on a new template for 24 hours. I ran out of gas. So... as lectured by the weekly blue bag... recycle. Therefore, I did. Lame excuse, but I bet you hardly even remember it. Plus, it serves another purpose as a constant reminder to eat more fruits as the new season approaches. Not that I'll be gunning for that bikini body everybody will be obsessing on achieving in 3 months, but I'll simply TRY (again) to lose more. I had been swimming like Marina before fall and winter came along, and I felt lighter afterwards. So I'm planning on doing that again. In my yellow polka-dot extra large bikinis, no less. ;)
I told my dad I would get a job. He smiled. Probably thinking in his head, "it's about fuckin' time!" but I don't know... there's still this little senorita in me that fears the pressure of being commanded. Or being fired when I accidently fried the burgers when they're supposed to be grilled. But at the same time, I've been longing for that simultaneous flow of money. The kind of lifestyle where guilt is in no position to ruin your shopping sprees. If and when I get personal income, I won't have to pester my parents in luxuriating me with stuff they're not obligated to cater me anymore. I will be able to buy my own pleasure, bribe my brother to drive for me, and even pay for college fees. That's gotta be a lot of help to my parents, especially considering the fact that I'm still a palamunin at this age.
And most especially when your mom just recently told you, "wala kang pakinabang!" OUCH.
Did I really need to hear that? Again? Gee. Well, it's been 10 days since the last time I spoke to my mother. It's been awkward. I could tell. We're like not breathing the same air. I'd walk past her, she'd walk by me, we'd see each other in the eye, but we won't talk. Not a word.
I won't make the first move though. I have a really large ego, and when I get hurt, especially if I did nothing... I repeat, NOTHING... that's reasonably upsetting to you, I'm not gonna cuddle your upper thigh and beg for peace. My mother gets pissed at the simplest of things, and you won't even believe why she got angry at me to begin with. It's laughable even. But it hurts... It still hurts, especially when she acts as if we don't coexist. Or when I can't use her dryer, use more minutes on my phone, or borrow her huge pearl earrings. No kidding. Slight.
Tomorrow, or later (if you want to get technical), will be our third time hearing mass without making peace. Usually, I'd go right to her, give her a peck (during peace be with you session), and we'd be completely back to normal afterwards. But it's a different story this time. I felt like I was abused verbally and emotionally, and I'm not going forward again and make what happened seem fictional. This will probably cause me a lot, most notably a shortage of God's faith in my being a good Christian. But I'm really sorry Papa God, if I don't hold on to my pride, I'm afraid I might get into it again... much worse, get my stuff thrown out of the door only for the reason that I din't clean her toilent sink.