Another parental whinge & some Snowball recollections.

I'm getting tired of this whole situation, frankly. And I can't help but feel as if I'm behaving like a spoilt child that isn't getting his way. Well, I am in effect just another one of those teenagers who whinges about his parents. Anyway, that being the case, permit me to continue with the minor sudsy melodrama unfolding in my family. I promise I won't whinge as much after today. Maybe.

So I've escaped to Mum's house for the weekend. On the train trip over, Dad calls. He asks what time I got home from Snowball last night and what time I left this afternoon. He asks about where I'm on the train to. He asks me if I'm going out on the weekend. For the last few days, it's been exactly the same. When I'm at uni, calls and asks where I am. When I come home from uni, he asks where I've been. Suffocation. That's what I'm feeling. And to descend to some American-talkshowesque psychobabble, I want some space. A whole lot of space.

And get this, before I left for Snowball last night, he pleaded with me to stay home and went on some foaming-at-the-mouth rant about going down to Town Hall police station and giving them a piece of his mind, re: the mugging (a constant reference point in this whole debacle). As if that'd do anything. Maybe they'd arrest him for causing a public nuisance. Oh, if only.

In addition, my parents (yes, Mum's been sucked in too) have now demanded that I no longer go out at night, even weekend nights, and that I no longer revel in my youthful exuberance. I'm sorry, is there something that I've missed here? Is there something wrong or out of the ordinary for a young adult such as myself to go out on the town after dark? It's not like I'm out partying/pubbing/clubbing every night of the week. Is there something I'm not seeing here?

Anyway, tomorrow I'm going to an uncles birthday lunch. I'm bracing myself from a tongue lashing from my Dad's sister, one of the many individuals to whom he whinges whenever I've done something disagreeable (which is really a euphemism for his parental cock ups). I might get the I-told-you-so treatment from her; she'd apparently seen it all before from when she was employed at a police station and for my entire life she has been warning me off any nightlife aspirations I may have had.

Bah! I've had the shits all day today. Maybe even all week, too. I felt like all my frustrations had gotten on top of me and I was thinking some very wrong things. This is going to sound nerdy, but I think the thing that kept me sane this week was uni. You know, just chilling out and investigating an LRC resonance circuit in physics lab or methodically analyzing the microwave spectrum of hydrochloric acid vapour and determining its bond lengths in the ground or excited states. And then there was Snowball at Manning Bar last night. Got lightly toasted on various ethanol-laden beverages and danced my arse off. Also, I met Pat's new girlfriend and caught up with a bunch of mates who've transferred to med science degrees and haven't seen much of since. We discussed Simon, and well, it appears that I'm not the only one who finds him utterly adorable.

To more recent happenings, when I arrived at Mum's this afternoon I pumped Jonny Moirée's Queer as Fuck compilation throughout the house. Now I'm somewhat mellow. After all, gay did traditionally mean happy, joyful, et cetera.


Listening to:
Title: New York City Boy (The Thunderpuss 2000 Club Mix)
Artist: Pet Shop Boys
Album/station: DJ Jonny Moirée: Queer As Fuck (2004)
Length: 9.17