Whoa. I've been out of it for hours.
Slept for 14 hours. We got back around 8:30pm last night from London, one of my pounding headaches just starting. Was a good visit, though I'm worried about Ron and Margaret- Ron going into hospital on X-Mas Eve to check out possible prostate cancer. Don't want to think about it.
Mum said that if Daddy had been feeling better (he's in bed with a bad cold), she would have had R over for dinner. That warms me- she rarely thinks of anyone else when Daddy's sick.
On my own
Pretending he's beside me
All alone
I walk with him 'til morning
Without him, I feel his arms around me
And when I lose my way, I close my
eyes and he has found me...
Byron called today. We were talking, and he made some comment like "That'll mean more money for us, right?" so I, being much miffed because last time, he gave me $50 instead of $66 like he was supposed to, said something like "Well, that's ironic, coming from the guy who stiffed me three-quarters of a haul last week." And he protested, said he didn't mean to, didn't realize, he'd been tired last week... which was true enough... but for someone who's "insanely good with money," that's a mistake you don't make. So I'll just be keeping an eye on it from now on, and he knows it. Anyway, he apologized and said he'd never mean to rip me off, and I sorta went "Yeah yeah, sure, fine..." and end of topic. Fine. Don't ever let me see it happen again, yo.
As a side note: Fairview theatres are open again, folks, with $4.25 tickets before 6pm, even on opening nights, $7.50 otherwise, and yes, the arcade. And thousands of screaming highschool twats. Bitches-In-Sailor-Suits and Bitches-In-High-Skirts and Under-Cover-Chumps and all. Well, more girls, really, cuz after all, it's a mall.
8:09pm
Tried reading a "Psychology Today" article on "How to Survive your Family at Holidays," and decided it was a bunch of tripe. The reason I don't like my mom, at holidays or most other times, is that she's an annoying, pretentious, uneducated, nagging, stubborn, bossy, touchy, hissy-fitting post-menopausal twit. It's not because we're trying to have a perfect X-mas.
And I realize that at some point, I'm going to have to get therapy for this one. Until now, I've always blamed the psychologists, counsellors, shrinks, what-have-you: the minute I start talking, one mention of the word "mother" and you can actually see their eyes lighting up: ahhh, textbook case #3.... But it's not like that. I just don't like her. The difference is that while Mum often lets hurtful things slip, opinions, etc. under the guise of saving me from myself, I NEVER, EVER tell her exactly what I think of her. Yesterday morning she started up- "And you left the lights blazing when you left yesterday, and you left a sink full of washing up ["It was 3 plates!"] Yeah well I had just done it, and you did this and this..." I told her I was tired of her attacking me and I wasn't going to do it back to her, to which she responded "I'm not attacking you, I'm telling you what you're doing wrong..." Some days, I REALLY can't wait to leave. Hopefully that'll happen next year. And I don't care, I'm damn-well getting a cat and if she wants to see me, SHE can spring for an air-purifier.
10:37pm
I've finally realised something important.
I've always been a talker in class. Always had a hand raised. You know that ad on the TTC, the one with the kid with his arm raised and duct-taped to his head, that says "Some kids always know the answers"? That was me. And it's gotten worse. For the last few years, I've sometimes had to take measures along the lines of writing myself notes in the margins of my books: "DON'T TALK IN THIS CLASS. YOU HAVEN'T DONE THE READINGS.", "YOU TALK TOO MUCH IN THIS CLASS. DON'T.", "YOU'VE ALREADY TALKED THREE TIMES TODAY, NO MORE TALKING." Things of that ilk. It's bothered me because I can't seem to shut up in class, and I'm sure I make myself enemies like that. Heck, I'd hate me, if I was in class with me.
And then today, something clicked into place. On the way back from London yesterday, Mum was saying how she always feels lucky that I'm not messed up like some of "her patients," that I essentially don't have any troubles, and how she tells someone every day what a great kid I am. I said, kinda quietly and sadly, "Maybe you should tell me that sometimes...?" And she bluffed it off, all Haha, I don't have to tell YOU... It just depressed me. Something so obvious...
So this is my reasoning. I never get validation or praise from her. Never. So I crave it from other people with authority, specifically profs. I love hearing "Yeah, you're right, that's brilliant!" So I'll go out of my way to say anything that might get me those words. I need praise.
This is bothering me a lot cuz it's suddenly like, wow, I've just figured out a whole, huge facet of myself, my behaviour, that I didn't udnerstand before.
Damn.
Readin' 5th Elephant, just finished Snowcrash, Erewhon on hold
Listenin' to Alicia Keys, "Fallin'"
Thinkin' about R... Xmas shopping.... par-tay on Friday... hypnosis....
Most recently I was 
