Monday, July 11
The iPod and how I'm a very faulty person issue came up again when I was eating dinner with my mom. She said she guarantees that she will buy it for me - in the future. When I'm good. And then I go on, "Good? What the fuck do you mean 'good'?" Then she says, "Better." All this shit was going through my head at ten thousand miles per hour - I do what she says, I don't talk back, I respect everyone, and I don't explain myself unless I'm allowed to, I don't yell at anyone and just keep all the crap in my gut until I grow one as big as Jani Lane. But then comes the issue racing througgh my mind at twenty thousand miles per hour that I strongly stand with; if I become good, good as in how my mom views as good, I would be giving in to her, changing the way I am when I am perfectly fine with the way I am, and therefore being the weaker. I know that's usually a predominately male style of thinking, but they are sort of right because no one wants to be a fucking pussy and let everybody walk all over them with spiked cleats. But then again, this is one's mother that we are talking about, and one must listen to their mother. I think this whole situation is kind of lame because she doesn't fully accept my individuality and the fact that it is better not to be the norm; the norm as in the perfect chid, especially for asians. Fuck asians, man. I'd prefer to be a mulleted white-trash fanny whore any day. Because then at least the whole of Americans wouldn't want to be stepping all over my tiny ass.

In opposition to those last three sentences, there are some things that I need to change about myself. Like this nasty snarly attitude that I give to people and things that I don't like. For example, when I was walking across the driveway to get the mail today and hoping that Brenda's present came in the mail, I was frowning the whole time because I just knew that a neighbor would pop out of their house and expect me to talk to them in the 97-degree weather for an hour. Or the way I acted at Monica's sweet sixteen. I had this entire fucking asshole thing going on in my head because I didn't like a single soul there except Monica and her family and then reacted in the described way to those who were disliked.

And a neighbor, actually three, popped out of their little American huts to bother my peace of getting the mail.

My mom, from ever since I could remember, would always say in vietnamese that I'm such a jerk. She said it so much that I started to think that it was her favorite word. But then as time went by I discovered that she only said that to the guys in Jackass, and me. I find that as a compliment.

I also need to keep my promise that I would do my best in school - not the greatest of the greatest grades, but just give it my all, was all that my mom asked; because she knows I have the ability to do so and she probably doesn't want it all to go to waste and pass by unknown and untouched. I haven't been doing this, with all this terribly boring summer reading. Every time I read about ten pages I have to take a nap right away. It is that full of shit.

My birthday is in two days and at this rate of all the downtrodding I don't think anything pleasant or different from the normal summer day is going to happen. Whatever, I don't fucking need it and I could just bake my own cake and enjoy it and recognize my entrance to the pathetic typical world of Age Sixteen all by myself. Without the frosting, because no one fucking likes frosting or sweets except me in this house, and I don't do the grocery shopping. How horrible is that. Hey, the only good thing that I know is going to happen on Wednesday is that Denis Leary is going to be on The Tony Danza Show that morning. Sorry, but I just had to mention that for my own sheer enjoyment.


Christina N. @ 6:49 PM