Creative writing related? Family related?
Life-situation related, as well as (probably) lack-of-food related.
Woke up at nine, ran around the house trying desperately to get to class on time and do all the other stuff I had to do while shouting the time we had left before we had to leave to my mom. She meandered around, making comments on how she didn't like the tone of my voice and picking herself up a book, and so on. I ran to the car with two pieces of bread, barefoot. She spent the rest of the trip yelling at me for being late and failing to adequately inform her about the situation.
Went to class. Spent pretty much the entire two hours yelling and arguing, because that's the sort of scene I was cast in.
Came back from class. Told my mom about a lizard I saw. Got yelled at for not making conversation when she decided she wanted to ask about my theater class, and I took a couple of seconds remembering what had happened. Riposte. Moved on to talking about theater class--said two or three sentences. Yelled at for failing to ask her about her day when she wanted me to talk about theater class. Explained that a more productive conversation might be had if she spent more time conversing and less time critiquing. Yelled at for strong-arming the argument and failing to let her feel like she was winning.
Finally arrived at home. 20 minute break.
Ran around getting things ready for confirming my rental stuff. Told to hang out laundry. Did this without complaint. Came back in. Informed that I was going to water the yard when we got back. "Great," I said.
"You aren't doing enough work on the maintenance of life, especially considering that you don't want children," she said. "You have to do more housework."
So, because I am living a smaller life to give me more time on the things I want to do, I need to spend the time I made for myself doing housework for her.
Ran around trying to get the check mailed, photocopies of stuff made, and so on. Yelled at.
Came home. Watered yard. Soon to make food so that I can stop starving.
Rest of today: probably spent on chores and math, as well as being yelled at by one or both parents. Tomorrow morning: chores and math. Tomorrow evening: being abused in creative writing class. I turned in three things, so there's going to be a lot of abuse.
I'm sick of obsessing over that mess with Rosewood. I know I'm doing it because I feel displaced and I still can't believe, somehow, that it went so badly, and also because obsessing over that means that I don't have to think about my relationship with my mom. Also because I stopped obsessing, and then suddenly I had an assignment that required me to remember all of it, and think about it, and feel how it felt, and remember what I said and did.
I'm heartsick and blah blah blah wish I had friends blah blah whine whine. I do feel I'm friends with the folks in my theater class. Can't take them with me to Berkeley, though.