*sigh* Today = bad day number 10000 Aside from Dad getting pissed at my D+ in algebra (how was I supposed to know it was that bad when nobody told me?), on the way home from Fair Oaks, I’m driving, and don’t see a car while making the left turn at Westover. Dad, of course, suddenly yells “STOP!,” I’m like omg and freak out, then makes me pull over and gives me a lecture. By this time I’m choked up and trying not to cry, and when I get home, I go directly to my room (lit only by the Christmas lights and orange lamp) and let the tears fall. In my state of confusion/hate/feeling worthless, I stumble over to my cosmetic bag, open the inside pocket, and pull out my razor. I place it on my wrist, but then realize what I’m doing and put it away. I cry for a few more minutes, then compose myself, knowing I’ll have to talk to my grandpa on the phone soon (though this part turned out to not be true), and go downstairs, pulling off the best nonchalant act that I can. And now I’m here. Listening to my new Adema CD and downloading music.

I’m also pissed at Dad ’cause I wanted to get some new clothes at the mall, but of course he’s like, “no, I wanna see before we buy” (when I wouldn’t buy anything he wouldn’t like in the first place), and we compromise by him saying that if the stores are still open when he picks Ross and I up at 9:15, he’ll come and check out whatever I pick. So yeah, I go into various stores … and when push comes to shove, I find a cool sweater and pair of polartec-y pants at Macy’s, put them in a place I’ll remember, but no. When he comes back at 9:30 (15 minutes late as usual), his friend Ann is in the car, and we end up not doing what he said he would. Of course. I should have anticipated that. Stupid me.