Many Things

[kiffie]

A week or so ago, my aunt told my dad that he can no longer use his gas card for gas.

Now, here's the thing. My dad's father had a gas card. He told my dad he could use it. The moneys from my gramma's parents had been pooled to give to my dad in some sort of fund or something similar. This transfered into the gas card. Well, the moneys had been depleted a long time ago, but my gramma had insisted that my dad keep using it since, after all, he does drive her to the market and to most of her doctor's appointments, etc.

Aunt went on a crackdown of moneys recently, first telling my dad that he spent too much when he took my gramma shopping (he's no longer allowed to take her shopping because, according to her, buying many boxes of crackers for half price is unacceptable -- he must buy few crackers at regular price), then the gas card, now she may or may not stop my dad from going over, period.

There's a little bit of backstory here that probably should be explained. My family is a good one or two economic levels below the rest of my dad's side of the family. Most of them are upper middle class. We... are not. My dad also took the "shitty" profession and was an artist. Nevermind that my uncle is a photographer. Or that my aunt buys paintings for offices. Anyway, aunt sees dad as just above pond scum. That kindasorta transfers to me and my mom, as well.

I've been accused to stealing from my gramma (I would never), been avoided and mocked for being uncultured, and get the feeling that they wouldn't leave me alone in the same room with their purses. My dad gets it even worse. He's very timid and humble, and sometimes refuses to defend himself. The other siblings broke him a long time ago.

So now we don't really know what to do. My dad loves his mom and would go crazy if he couldn't see her. The gas moneys is gonna be a problem, as my parents are barely making it as it is. And I'm not sure if, as much as I love my gramma, I could go to another family get together and be in the same room with the rest of that side of the family. Not even for her.





Yesterday, I got a package from my mom.

It was a box of many ramen noodles (score!), my sunglasses (also score, as I'm highly light-sensitive), and some sort of... fuzzy... hat... thing.

It was like a flight cap. But camel-coloured. And... very fluffy.

Mexican + very light hat = AHAHAHA no.

It was like a bunny had sleeped on my hed.

I gave it to my roomie, who is blonde (it looked better on her) and goes hiking (she can use it). She was happy. :3





Today at dinner, I had gotten my meal and was looking for a place to sit.

Unfortunetly, as it is Valentine's Day (and I am pathetic and went to dinner alone -- woe, emo, sob!), there was only one table left. And the seat that I wanted just so happened to have its back to Creepy Guy.

Creepy Guy (not Creepy Cop Guy -- he's a different person) is a student at Poly. Very short-limbed, barrel-shaped, and has a faded orange beard. He also seems to have deep social issues. At the least, he's anti-social. But it's more likely that he's got some sort of mental fault. Autistic, maybe. The way he holds himself, it seems to lead to that.

But that's really not important. Either way doesn't matter. The thing that's of import here is that Creepy Guy hates everyone.

The tables in the Dining Hall are arranged in close rows. So when I pulled the chair out to sit, it very lightly bumped his.

I winced (I hate accidently bumping someone's chair because I know how annoying it is when you're eating) and very carefully sat down. It briefly bumped it again when I pulled the chair in. A few seconds pass, and then I feel a WHAM as Creepy Guy pushes his chair full back into mine.

I sat there, stunned for a moment. Who the hell does that to someone? I turned around and said, very stiffly, "I'm sorry." I hadn't meant to bump his chair, but the tables are very close. If I could have gotten in without bumping, believe me, I would have tried. Creepy Guy seemed to accept this and went back to eating. I, however, was deeply unnerved and finished my dinner quickly. I didn't want to leave my food alone for fear that he'd spit in it or something else equally childish. And I didn't want to stay in case he finished eating before me and decided to continue the matter.

Bumping chairs. Dear god.