The better things get the worse they seem
04 February 2005 at 9:35 am

/edit new pictures

Sometimes it pisses me off that I can't just be upset -- that I can always correlate my mood to my hormones. It makes me question whether or not I'm really angry with Aaron for not knowing how to manage money and for not working enough or if I really give that much of a shit. I waffle between being exceedingly pleased with the way life is going and morosely disappointed with everyone in my life. And then, for a minute or a twelve hours, things are ok and normal and content and that's just the worst. Like click-clicking to the top of the roller coaster and hanging for a second before you whoosh towards stomach-floating tumult. That was a horribly cliched simile. I apologize. Wait, I can do better: like when you spend an hour picking out an outfit and brushing your hair the right way and putting on the right amount of eyeliner and stepping away from the mirror to take in the whole head-to-toe picture after working so hard to get just the right look only to realize that those boots are too pointy for that skirt and you should have just used the lavender eyeshadow instead of combining it with the kohl liner and above and beyond all that, you smell and really, you're only going out to get the mail so why do you have to look so glamorous anyway? Nope, that sucked too.

The only way around it is by living my life in my head. Like, scary pleather jacket lady had a tiff with someone on the bus when she opened every goddamn window and someone said, "Do you have to open all of them? It's cold," to which she responded, "It's AIR. We breathe it? We need it to survive?" Then I said, "The bus is a community priviledge and as such, you need to respect the comfort levels of the people surrounding you. It is unnecessary to open every window, particularly when it is 50 degrees outside and it is understandable when somebody might be cold. If you like air so much, why don't you forego the bus and walk off that fat ass? And also? Thanks for taking my advice about the jacket, but you might want to seriously reconsider that lipstick." Except not really. I smirked and was glad to have her in my life because she is a major source of inspiration and a channel for my bitter hatred.

SO HOW'S IT GOING, MORGAN? WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN UP TO?

Well. Had a huge fight with my mom last week, as did Aaron, in regards to how he is unworthy of my lifestyle. Mom and I reconciled over snarks about the Apprentice but she and Aaron will probably never get along. It started when Aaron said, "We made Matt an offer to use the car..." and my mom was upset that he thought that he has any ownership rights to the car. He pays half the insurance and runs all of my errands (and when he does so I call him Aaron Errand because I'm cute) in that car so he does have some sort of say in scheduling the car's whereabouts. But my mom doesn't feel that way and to resolve that issue she decided that all of the car issues are my problem now.

Now, I'm spoiled. I know that. But this isn't about what I deserve as a spoiled brat; it's about handling situations rationally and keepin promises. My mom bought this car when my brother turned 16 and I got it when I turned 16. My mom bought my brother a Tacoma to replace the Tercel, which he promptly crashed. They sold that car to avoid giant insurance premiums and she gave him her Subaru. He totaled that car a few years later and used the insurance money to buy a Camry or a Corolla or something. He's gone through four cars in 7ish years, all which my mom has essentially completely paid for -- she covers everything except gas and oil changes. I have had this Tercel since I was 16. I was in one accident which wasn't my fault and which we didn't pay for. I've had 2 tickets that are falling off my record this year. He's had a ridiculous amount of speeding tickets. Now the Tercel is a decade old, has 120,000 miles on it, and is falling apart. She promised me years ago that she would get me one more car, which was going to be her current Subaru, and then I was on my own. Now she's taking that back because she thinks Aaron's an ungrateful little bitch. My brother rationalized this by saying that I didn't take good care of the Tercel. The inside is a mess, but Matt messed that thing up for two years before I even had the car. Plus, the car is a DECADE OLD. It's not like it has any significant resale value anyway. Plus plus, she gave the car to me -- it's in my name -- as a gift to do with it what I pleased. Plus plus plus, she never stipulated that I would be getting a new car IF. It was, I'll help you out until you're 24, then you're on your own. I let Aaron use the car because otherwise I would never have any groceries in the house. And she's upset because she somehow thinks she still has a right to that car and that my brother should have a right to use it whenever he wants. He can use it whenever he wants -- we just want to have some sort of advance notice to arrange to get the car to him and to postpone or move our plans up. I constantly offer to give him a ride to band practice (which is in Oakland) but he constantly refuses.

So when she called to tell me how guilty she feels about this, but that the car is my responsibility now -- insurance, registration, repairs -- and how I will not be receiving another car, I have to be mature in light of the Aaron crisis. I have to say, "Let me point out that you paid for Matt's stuff for two years longer than you paid for mine, which I'm ok with but you're the one who is so concerned with equality but it's ok," when inside I'm hurling myself onto the floor, slamming my feet and fists into the rug, and screaming, "NOFAIRNOFAIRNOFAIR." But I am a mature, responsible adult now, and the closer I get to financial independence the less of a right she has to say, "Aaron's a fuckwad."

Ok. /end confessions of a spoiled brat.

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About me
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.