Fights and Fornication

No, I didn't fornicate...no masturbation or porn either, so don't worry.

I did, however, get into a fight...who with? The man responsible for my birth, of course...that sounds extremely standoffish of me, but I'm in a crappy mood right now, and it's MY blog, so I'll speak how I feel...I'm not referring to him as my father right at the moment...We got into a stupid fight about something stupid, of course. My mom had read a letter of mine that I had left out, and she had commented on it, and I told her that I didn't like her reading my mail (He wasn't there during dinner...merf...)...I hadn't even finished reading the letter in the first place, and me getting mail that actually matters is a rarity...so I was excited to finish it...but she read it...it could have been ANYTHING in that letter...could have been some plans to make a rendevouz with some male companion (if I ever had the balls/sex appeal enough to pull something like that off), or it could have been a letter from a friend across the country. This one happened to be from a friend who is serving his mission in Costa Rica, whom I had met at school.

>>Fast Forward>> After dinner, I was helping clean up, mom was at choir practice, and her worse half and I were in the kitchen, and we were cleaning stuff up, at mom's request...me cleaning the counters, he was washing dishes. As I collected the letter from the counter, I commented on my displeasure at her reading my mail...blunt, out there statement...not a question, not looking for much of a response...and my father, ever looking to have higher ground than me, decided to turn it into an argument...this, I didn't want...he kept on trying to turn it into such, until I decided to finally just cut it off. I left what I was doing, collected my shoes, and left. Thank goodness Will's house is always available as an escape. We did, generally, nothing, but nothing was something in this situation, as it gave me time to just get away from an unsavory situation.

I don't really get angry anymore...I used to be an extremely hot-tempered person...now I'm just intolerant. Instead of charging into a debate with my sleeves rolled up, I, instead, become a recondite recluse, and shy away from confrontation. I don't get angry, as much frustrated. Not so much hot-tempered as aloof. And that's the way I want it. I don't hurt anybody, and nobody can get to me. I'm able to receed into my bubble, which I used to stretch out of so often, and be safe. I used to be quite the opposite. I was always encouraged to 'get outside my comfort zone,' which I did with reckless abandon...and now, it's time for me to take some comfort, and stay well inside my comfort-territory.

Let's see...what's been good?

+I wore a white shirt and tie for 3rd time at church since I've been home from my mission...trying to be what I know I should be...striving to be a worthy priesthood holder.
+I worked 36 hours this last week...my heels are suffering and hurting because of it, but the money will be well worth it. Tomorrow I work from 9:30am till 8pm...goooosh...both jobs...mucho dinero.
+I'm downloading Lisa Loeb, and listening to Tracy Chapman...good, calming, lamentful music...soothing for my soul. Gosh, I sound like so the typical emo-child...somebody shoot me already.

I've been contemplating, on the skirts of my mind, the prospect of disappearing...yet again contemplating that temptuous sweet, shiny apple. I'd only tell one person where I was going, and what my new name would be. I'd get my birth certificate changed...my social security altered...the me that people know would cease to exist. And my alias would be an orphen...my children would never know my parents, if I have children (which I hope for), but they'd have my wife's parents for grandparents...my 'parents' would have abandonned me, and I would have grown up in Oregon...been emotionally abused, and finally abandonned those who had treated me so badly...not that the maternal figure in my upbringing would be the villan, but my paternal character would be he who carries a black mark on his name...and not only him, but more the emotional situation I was brought up in.

I don't know why I concoct fantasies like that...operating under a false guise...faking my death so as to escape. I wouldn't have the balls to pull it off, nor the means.

I have to be up early, so I'm going to surrender to sleep.