barnes and nobles has not called. another reason to cry. they said they would call me back today after calling my references and that if everything went all right that i could start training tomorrow night. but they did not call. i guess i'll call them tomorrow and see what's up, and the job hunt is back on i guess.
i got an e-mail from mezey saying that he wanted my isp on feb. 1. shit, i did not realize how late it was already. i emailed him about my chaotic mental state, told him i was taking time off from school, and got an extension.
i went jogging today, got catcalled at by some punk high school girl making fun of me. that was a little discouraging too.
and now to the subject of my father, the drug addict. he came here yesterday to stay with us for a while (i thought just a night, but we'll get to that later). he fell asleep on the couch in our living room at about ten o clock last night. he would not move to sleep in the empty bedroom upstairs or the futon downstairs. and he stayed in this position until about two o'clock this afternoon, obstructing my normal routine of sitting on the couch reading, wathing tv, and playing around all day on the internet which is right next to the couch.
he is again asleep on the couch right now as i write this, irritating me to no end, since i asked him, why don't you go sleep on jamie's bed? and he said he planned on it. and rolled over and is motherfucking asleep right now, and i want to sit there and watch tv. i hate you. --- anyways, today after "waking up," he still lied on the couch, complaining about how sick he is and his chemo treatment and his drugs. oh, and he's completely bald now from the chemo which is sort of weirding me out big time.
okay, obviously i am not being the best or even a coherent writer right now, tripping over my anger and upsetness. so, check back in couple of days, if this is really annoying you. i just feel like i need to utilize the therapeutic values of diary writing tonight to try to lessen my frustration or at least attempt to demarcate it.
so yeah, my dad's a drug addict. he was prescribed oxycotin and morphin for his pain or something, and because his doctor is wicked. so, he came over here without any medicine, and when he woke up, he was basically going through withdrawl on the couch. wrapped up in blankets, even though it was a warm day and even warmer in the house. occasionally crying at his frustration, complaining about how sick he was. asking me to dial phone numbers for him. he said that he couldn't even see the buttons, crying. at first, i thought he was kidding, but then i got real scared realizing he was serious. dialed all these numbers of his various drug dealers around manasas for him. he left desperate messages at each number saying he needed a pill and to call him back. i dialed one number for him, handed him the phone, about ten seconds later he asks: "did you dial the number?" "yes." "what?" "YES." and as you can see there is no exclamation point at the end of that second yes. i was not yelling, i was merely talking at a level at which his deaf ears could hear me. but he yells back very upset: "don't fucking yell at me! i'm on narcotics! i need my medicine!" he walked to the other side of the room, i stood by the computer upset and scared. within a minute, he starts crying, apoligiizes, and continues to cry about how he needs a pill.
after that i pretty much hid out in my room all day, reading the amazing adventures of kavalier and clay, and crying about everything. it wasn't all about my dad, but crying about him did provoke more crying about my lack of job, my lack of direction, my cluelessness about what i want to do with my life.
my mom came home at about 6 or something and soon left to go to some meeting. i was hoping she would stay and not leave me alone to deal with junkie dad. at about 8:30, my dad pathatically asked me if i could drive him out to manasas so he could get a pill. i couldn't really say no and then just sit around all night on the computer or watching tv. i really had nowhere to go. so, i begrudgingly said okay. and we were on our way to manasas, to visit some drug dealers, so my dad could get his oxy pill. it is like an hour drive out there, i listened to brucie bruce, but not even he could help rescue me from this bout of sadness. i didn't say anything to my dad the whole way. he said way too much to me, giving me directions at every fucking step. "turn here" while i am already in the turning lane, and stuff like that. i don't know why, but when someone gives you directions and you know what you're doing, it pisses the fuck out of you. it's basically an affront to your intelligence and capabilities - a slap in the face with a glove. okay, not really - but it's still fucking annoying.
i looked ahead at the dark interstate, the green signs, the full moon, and held back tears so as not to upset my dad - thinking of how pathatic this is that my dad is addicted to oxycontin and that i, his son, am driving him to a fucking drug dealer. on the way there, he's telling me how addictive the stuff is, sort of cautionary like, saying "it's more addictive then herion ... or any other drugs i've ever tried." then i remembered that this was not my dad's first drug problem and so not feeling too much sympathy for my dad. in the late 70's, i know he got in trouble for drugs, and was supposed to be deported. i guess i never thought he had tried herion. i always just assumed coke was the worst he'd done. well, he never was deported, and then when i was in ninth grade he went to vegas with some friends and got arrested for something drug-related and spent two months in jail and was then deported, since the ins got tougher with newt and company in 94. and all of these thoughts plus others rushing at me, as my bobo car is rushing forward at 70 mph towards manasas and some drug dealer, and possibly towards the other cars, as i comtemplate veering into thme.
we get there, i'm told to wait in the car, and my dad goes into some random suburban house for about ten minutes. they didn't have any pills, but they gave him some methadone. he pathatically makes more phone calls, goes to whom i suspect is his girlfriend's house, tina. he spends about 20 minutes there, as i wait in the car, kisses her goodbye, and then we start driving away, my dad unable to score any pills. tina starts running up to the car. my dad tells me to hold on. my dad is so dopey that he cannot get the window to roll down. i roll down his window, and i don't even remember why she stopped us, all i know is that she called me handesome, and told me that she had an eighteen year old daughter and that i should have come inside to meet her. this made me want to cry more than anything. but, we started out towards home, my dad bitching and moaning about how sick he is without his "medicine" - that's what he calls it. a couple blocks aways from tina's house, my dad's cell phone rings- come back, tina says, someone is bringing a pill. so, i turn back, and we park, and my dad tells me to come in when he sees that i am not getting out of the car. i say no, that i just want to wait in the car. he is about to cry and asks me to come in about four more times, each time getting a more and more angry response from me. i wait in the car for about ten minutes, before i see tina and her eighteen year old daughter whom i should meet, wondering around the parking lot looking in cars. i don't know what they were doing, maybe looking for me to invite me in, but i was crying at this point. wiped my tears and ducked my head. then went in. my dad came out and asked me to come in. i said no a few more times before he went back in. i cried some more in the ten more minutes that i waited before he finally came out, sedate, because he had taken his drugs.
he was basically passed out the whole ride home. finally three hours later, i was back at home, still upset. getting more and more upset each time my dad dopeily thanked me, saying: you saved me life, thanks. for some reason those repeated words were making my blood boil. i went upstairs, and my mom asked me where i was, i told her and asked how long my dad was going to be staying here. she responded that she thought for a while, but she didn't know, saying that she didn't think he had a place to stay. she then asked me why i asked, and i started ranting about his jerkiness so glad that i could bitch to someone. and she agreed saying that he is pretty obnoxious. but, she's too fucking nice and charitable. and, i have to take him the doctor tomorrow at fair fucking oaks, so i guess i will not be going job hunting tomorrow. and this is not why i took a semester off, to deal with this crap.
if you can't say something nice then don't say anything at all. okay, the weather was real nice today and served as my escape to go jogging. it felt so nice to be an animal moving in the gorgeous weather, feeling out of breath, strained leg muscles, and loving the feeling. in motion. choo choo. i actually think i might go jogging right now to release some of this aggresion. the diary therapy idea didn't work.