you can do your own damn dishes. and no, i don't want more dinner, for the hundredth time.

angry for the stupidest reasons. angry that my mother is so freaking passive aggressive sometimes, and often about the smallest things--it's like, these little battles over insignificant matters let slip the "real" her, or some facet of her that's real but she tries to mask most of the time, and it disappoints doubly, 'cause there's the dimension of, wow, you found that out over such a stupid matter. like it's not worth that amount of disappointing action being revealed, the hurt's not worth the original conflict. and so you feel stupid and angry.

and also (though way more minor) angry that she ruined the pie i made for dad tonight by messing with the oven when she knew it was in use--i know, this is petty as all get out, it's just. augh. she does this all the time. i've ruined entire leftover christmas roasts while baking because of the eccentric things she does with the oven while it's in use (that's a different story though).

and way less angry but irritated still that nobody here can stay awake for ten minutes after ten o'clock just to participate in something planned. and angry thaf michelle came home and in five seconds threw out the plans we'd had all this week in favor of nothing at all.

i'm stupid. i know, but you can tell me too if you want.

at least dad likes me right now. he seems to be the one in the house who understands me best lately. i hate how 'the person who understands me' changes all the time to me, and then foolish me i actually feel betrayed when the position shifts. i don't get me most of the time.

argh.