And then I'll be back to Job Corps. I called Opinions Limted, the survey place where I worked late last year and the manager said I could come down to fill out an application anytime.
My mother asked me why don't I just ask them to send me one, and I bit back a sharp retort: "Sure mom. I'm sure Cathy (the manager) has plenty of time between trying to meet quotas for marketing research, and trying to communicate with clients who are rude and uppity yet are too cheap to do their own research, to put an application in an envelope and pay the 37 cents to send it our way."
She seems to think I'm doing nothing but screwing around while I'm at Job Corps. As Daryll once pointed out, she barely ever takes me seriously. It'll never end with her. I could be making millions off of my writing and she would still treat me like I'm some weak little leech who can't handle the real world.
I was watching an old video I had recorded of me and my brothers opening Christmas presents in Alabama. This was about six years ago, way before Mollie and my niece Falen were born. And my brother's father said he'd felt bad that I didn't get many presents that year. I saw myself trying to explain that it didn't matter to me and that I was happy being there with the family. But you could hear mom in the background covering up for me, saying "Oh he's getting plenty of presents back home," and so forth. She never even gave me a chance to speak up for myself. Or perhaps she thought I would just make an ass of myself so she felt like she was saving gace for me. Either way, it's not the first time in my life she's treated me like I was well...stupid or something.
People wonder why I have such a hard time with social situations, and I almost have to wonder if she didn't have some large part in it. *sigh* Fuck it all. I just can't wait to be on my own again.
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