A Letter

Update 5:43 PM- Now I just want to kick your teeth in. You have the gall to tell our dad he s Bipolar. I think you ought to look up the definition, because you would find it isn’t just a noun you can throw around when the mood strikes. 

I wish I could be as irresponsible and flippant as you.

Actually, I don’t. I guess I should consider myself blessed to be about 98% more responsible than you ever will be. Sure, I graduated college two years ago, and am amassing more and more debt every day I haven’t found a job–and yet, you have a well-paying job and are just now repaying loans you took out over ten years ago. When I was eighteen, I had two credit cards that I used freely, not thinking of the future consequences. I learned my lesson, and have avoided making that same mistake again (with the obvious exception of earning my Bachelor’s).

Have you learned anything in the ten-plus years you’ve been acting like an asshole?


At 33 years old, you’ve learned zilch. You lied to our parents and made up some ruse that this guy who you were hot for was willing to pay them $500 for our excellent washer and dryer, knowing full damn well he had no such intentions, instead paying them the money you had no business parting with. What did you learn from this? You got him to have sex with you, but he is now smearing you all over your workplace, and you have vowed to never do that again. You pulled the same shit when you were a freshman, again in your last two years of high school, and will likely repeat it again in the next few years.

You’re drowning underneath the debt you’ve incurred trying to live well above your means, and yet you still try to play the part of someone who lives comfortably. Maybe you’ve got every one of your friends snowballed, but you can’t fool those of us who truly know who you are.

And now our father has taken out a loan to bail you out…again. Just because he is our father doesn’t mean he’s obligated to bail you out every time you fuck up, which you do about five times a year. You get on mine and our sisters’ cases about being jobless and having our dad pay for our groceries and rent, and yet he buys your groceries and pays your car insurance, because you chose to trade in a sedan for a Mustang in an effort to get that co-worker into bed with you and make him fall in love with you. We know what our dad does for us, and we are grateful. We do not continually ask him for things when we don’t need them, nor do we expect that he buy us things because he is our father and he must. Such logic is immature.

I still wonder why he puts up with your crap. If it weren’t for the fact that the shit you have gotten yourself into would result in you having to move in with him, he should have let you deal with the consequences. You have been ridiculously lucky in the past:

  • getting out of contracts and paying for bills by batting your eyelashes or by just outright telling collection agencies that you just refuse to pay, and they leave you alone.
  • having our dad put himself into hock for your ungrateful ass

Today was the straw that broke the camel’s back. This flippant attitude that dad owes you because he had one sperm cell successfully fertilize is utter bullshit, and frankly, you ought to kiss the ground he walks on for doing this. But will you?


You will flub up again, and expect him to bail you out. Frankly, I hope he makes good on his threat to not help you out again, because maybe then you’ll learn to stop acting like God made you special and live accordingly. Start living life as though dad and his money aren’t here, because when he does eventually go, what will you do? Grandma (should she still be living) or our aunt won’t help, and I sure as hell won’t.

Get over yourself, and get out of our lives.



I feel like I am in a rut.

  • I am still looking for a job (I gave up on looking within what I majored in a long time ago), and nothing is panning out.
  • My closest friend moved with her fiance to West Virginia last month, and is having a struggle with the difference in political opinions and weather.
  • My younger sister, who would hate for me to be posting her personal crap all over the Internet (at least the unfiltered versions, because she never wants people to know that her life is a literal shit-hole and that is 99% of the time of her own doing), has been wrapped up with some dickhead co-worker that she was warned not to get involved with. What happened? She slept with him twice, and then discovered (GASP!) that he was sleeping with several other women in the office. She now acts like the victim.

The people who lived below us moved out the end of March, and now it is a waiting game to see who the new people will be and what hell they might wreak. Because apartment management keeps getting stupider, nothing will be fixed.

Also, I apologize for not writing for the last four months. If I had, it would have been regarding my stupid sister’s mistakes regarding her co-worker.


Having your sister at your grandma’s with photos of your mom as a young child brings certain revelations, mainly those of the fact that you resemble her at the same age. My mom and I looked alike until I was about six, and that is basically where our similarities end. Having used FaceApp, I was able to age myself, and looked just like my grandma.

Here is my evidence:

I think I was three or four in this picture and my mom was maybe 2?

More Old Photos!

These are likely to be the last of these posts, since my sister is coming home early, on Wednesday. I kind of wish I were there in person to see them all for myself, since she is only sending the ones she thinks are funny or of our grandparents and our mom.

My grandma and my mom
My grandpa and my mom
Me and my younger sister on Halloween 1992. She was a kitty and I was a wizard.
My youngest sisters in early 1996. My youngest sister looks like the Gerber baby.

Old Photos

My younger sister is down at our grandma’s, and she has three tubs full of photos. My sister has been sending them to us throughout the day, and they have been fun to look at. I am sharing a few, although not the ones of my youngest sister when she was a cherubic baby and the Gerber baby doppelganger.

My youngest sisters and I, most likely in 2000. These photos remind me to not repeat fashion mistakes.
My mom’s parents, 1955/1956 when my grandpa was stationed in France
My maternal grandpa in either Vietnam or Korea. My bet’s more on Vietnam.
My grampy and me (and my aunt). This photo is totally getting framed.

Healthcare Reform

I’ve said in the past that I wouldn’t post anything political, unless the issue was so pertinent that I must. Well, that moment is now.

Unless you live under a rock or avoid anything relating to current U.S. politics (how do you manage to do that, by the way?), you’re aware that our officials voted to have Obamacare repealed. I was fairly confident it wouldn’t pass again, given the last two attempts failed so miserably, and our leader would jet off to Florida (except this week he threw us a curve ball and went to New Jersey) in a snit like a dour toddler. So, color me shocked when it passed.

Why am I writing about this, do you ask? My family. Of the six members of our household, I am the only one without a preexisting condition, according to a Time article listing what might be considered such  (although there are now stories emerging on that subject. This is particularly difficult for my two youngest sisters, because they are still on our dad’s insurance for a short period of time. Both are quite afraid of their future regarding insurance premiums and whether they’ll be able to even get insurance if California companies can/will deny coverage for such conditions (there are companies here that are just ruthless enough to).

To finish, please reach out and help Senate/Congress vote down this idiotic repeal–Obamacare might be expensive, but it granted rights to people with pre-existing conditions from being charged extra for those conditions. Enough bad crap has happened because of this current administration (and no doubt more in the future), so we need to send a message that we are willing to stand up for the sick and helpless who need insurance.

I’m back, sort of

This past month has been interesting. For a couple of weeks, I thought I might actually be moving into a house with my family. Alas, that was not meant to be, and I must live here another year. The upside to this is that I have my own bathroom, which I can decorate any way I wish, and I don’t have to worry about what stress one of my cats would go through having to be under the same roof as my dad (she hides when he comes over). I have vowed to make some money so that my sister and our two cats can rent a house for ourselves.

In the process of possibly moving (and then not), I got new furniture. I went from two dressers, a nightstand, and a TV stand to just one dresser and a nightstand (I didn’t get rid of the TV stand). The previous furniture was nearly nineteen years old, and reflected my mindset at the age of fifteen: anything remotely resembling items found aboard the Titanic. My new furniture is from IKEA–and yes, I realize that once you’re over thirty, IKEA is supposed to go out the window. Also, in the process of helping my dad lug 5-6 boxes weighing too much for my weak arms, I realized that I most likely have a heart condition (which I will be looking into in June, which was the first available date to see a physician on Medi-Cal), and that helping my dad put together furniture is/was a nightmare. My room is still in a state of disarray, so no photos until I put it together and buy a storage ottoman for the “junk” that cannot be thrown away (like college papers and other stuff).

I am working on getting another tattoo.  I am going to be a “basic bitch” as my youngest sister says, and getting a California state outline with a turtle in San Diego County, rather than a heart. The journey to a turtle was long. I am the second one in my family to get this tattoo, one of my sisters already got one for her birthday. This is a sister tattoo, with only our youngest sister left to get hers. No doubt the other one will lose her mind if she should ever see that mine closely resembles our sister’s. I am now just working up the courage to email the artist, plus asking my mom if I should proceed or wait a of couple weeks.

I bought jeans at Cotton On, and they went bye-bye. Apparently, you can’t return worn jeans (which is understandable), and when you’re instructed by the manager or associate to walk around for an hour to see if they work, you’re screwed. On me, at least, the front rode up high and was cut low in the back. I am not really comfortable with the whole “showing off my underwear” look I unwittingly did in the sixth grade at nearly thirty-four, so there’s that. Also, I don’t like having my jean cuffs cut into my ankles … or jeans that fit like a glove on my thighs.

Other than that, not much has gone on.  Sorry I haven’t written, it’s just my life is utterly boring and I literally cannot think of anything to write about, other than my disdain for the direction this country is headed.

Happy Friday the 13th and Catch-Up

Happy Friday the 13th! I am finally sitting down at my laptop to write up about Christmas, and the last couple of weeks.

Christmas went surprisingly well, despite the fact that my youngest sister received a couple of gifts that had caused some drama in the months leading up to the day itself. I got a record player, a vinyl of Thriller (which my dad had when I was a kid, and was an album I enjoyed a lot–but was not the original record, which had been thrown away years ago), and a bunch of other things. The one gift I wanted, the very popular Nintendo Classic Mini–was not one of them (by the way, should Nintendo come across this post, I want to say that it was dirty pool that you had given Target and other retailers six  consoles to sell to the public, and then not selling them again for the rest of the season. Now that Christmas is over, people are still selling these at ridiculous prices, and yet there is no indication you intend to release any more).

One of my big gifts, was a diploma/tassel frame. Apparently, my sister had a reaction to this that I had missed because I was so excited to open it.

Other than that, not much has happened. New Year’s Eve was a nightmare, as it has been since moving into an apartment, but this recent one was worse. I didn’t get to fall asleep until after 1 AM, and didn’t sleep well for the next two days following. 2016 basically was the year I became fed-up with apartment living more than before.

Also, Northern California has had a lot of rain in the last two weeks. On Sunday, my sister and I are sitting in the living room eating dinner when I heard what sounded like thunder. I turned to look out the window to watch for lightning, only to watch a tree across the lot falling over. It did some damage to the apartment building just feet from where the tree stood, but nothing that could prevent those living in the building from staying in their apartments.

That’s about it. I have a couple of photos, because I take photos of random stuff.

One of my Christmas gifts, a jewelry bowl, which sits in my bathroom.
The fallen tree

Goodbye 2016!

This year has, for the most part, sucked. The only positive thing was Christmas (which I’ll recount eventually), and finishing college.

As you can guess, I didn’t win the writing contest, in any way. That was a bit sad, but I’ve gone and looked at the story several times after submitting it, and realized it was not well-written.

Anyway, I’m not doing much today. Living in an apartment on New Year’s Eve is a nightmare, and I’ll be doing what I can to stay sane (that and reading Stephen King’s It).


Random post-grad post

You know how I mentioned that when my cap and gown arrived, I’d take pictures?

Well … they did show up, and I had planned to take photos, but it was the middle of June. June in my neck of the suburbs is/was akin to Satan’s backside, and I couldn’t be bothered to sweat while applying makeup and donning the gown. So it has been sitting in my closet for the last six months. I also got a Bachelors hood, which was interesting in figuring out how it was supposed to look.

My dad was also looking forward to taking photos as well, and now it seems redundant to take the photos so long after I graduated. I may end up doing it one day while it’s still cool out of sheer boredom, we’ll see.