carnivalesque.net

I was packing… or throwing clothes into a suitcase to be more accurate and my dad goes on his whole LONG thing about the way I dress. That I’m too cheap, that I should stop wearing brightly colored t-shirts and black pants (jeans aren’t even pants to him). Blah, blah, blah.
We’ve been through this a million times and I don’t think it’s ever occurred to him that I’m seventeen - not my mom’s age or something. He goes on and on about how white and beige look best during the summer (which, he notes, it always is here) and therefore, I shouldn’t wear black pants. Or how “look at all the fashion magazines, they wear nice shoes” (aka, pointy toed shoes that I think look ridiculous) He’s more up to date with all this fashion stuff because I frankly don’t care. He knows that. I wear what I feel like wearing when I feel like wearing it. Thus, you see me “dressed up” when I go to the mall or wearing boots with three or four inch heels to the airport. I’m just like that. Unless there are specific rules, I’ll wear what I want to.
He goes on and on about me dressing like a college kid (which, unless something heavy has fallen on his head recently and has caused him to forget, he knows I technically am) and “upgrading” myself… bah. He wants me to dress like my mom. And wants my mom to dress like my grandmother. As my mom has said before, he’s way too classical when it comes to what he wants to see people wear.

If I can find the alley, I’m buying more of those colorful shirts he hates. And no, I’m not doing this to annoy him - I want to paint them. Though he probably won’t care and will still yell anyway… but it’s simple enough to pretend to hear him.

I was talking to Pam earlier (while I was burning my mini discs) and she said that her computer won’t turn on. I’m hoping it’s something minor, like a busted power supply unit or something… Something that won’t hurt her files and won’t entail getting a new computer. I’m not just worried because Endtimes is… well, was on that computer (though that’s part of the reason) but I’ve had computers eat my files (this computer did that once… ate everything one day, for no reason) and crash on me… it’s horrible to lose files.

Get well, Pam’s computer!

I feel like a psycho for saying that. X_x
I quote me, describing my LJ: (not exact words, but something like em)
It’s an online journal that I don’t write in much… I use it to keep in touch with my RL (real life) friends.

After I sent that message I was thinking to myself: Loser much.

Hopefully I’ll go visit the people who are at Ateneo (Mainly Pinky since she’s the one who messaged me) on Tuesday and maybe see Pam on Saturday.

*remembers more things*

Before I go on, I just feel like typing, so type I shall. Be warned, however, that I an bound to make no sense…. not like that’s new though.

So I asked Pam what she wanted from Hong Kong and she says, “ ocky!” So I started bargaining with her for characters in Gravity (which she says she shall rewrite… and butcher all the characters while doing so) and all she would say was “ ocky!” until I said “You sound like a mangled Chi” and she goes, “Yeah, but I’m not every fanboy’s dream” Naturally, I said, “How do you know? ^_~” And I was just laughing at my mental image of her expression.

Doo, dee, doo~ I am about to be sentenced to going to bed. Hmph. I’m supposed to wake up at three tomorrow morning anyway, why go to sleep?

Okay, well, I asked my mom that and she got mad at me. Said I’d get sick, bleh, bleh, bleh… First off, I’ve done it more than once before, though obviously without telling her. Secondly, will three hours make a big difference? (I’ll end up lying in bed bored listening to Mini Discs until midnight or so… the joys of a body clock that only sleeps from midnight to eight in the morning)

And my mother is here. Goodbye to me.