Right now, I should be studying for a test, but I am not. Instead, I am writing in my blog to express my feelings on the subject of my father's psychopathic tendencies. I arrived home at approximately 1:30 with my best friend, Donia. When Donia had to run a quick errand, I watched my favorite soaps on NBC with my mom. Soon after Donia's return my cousin David came through the door with his ceramics projects in hand. He showed Donia, Mom and I his projects and we went back to watching Passions. Towards the end of the show, I decided that it was just about time to start my English homework. A while later, my father walks in from work. As usual, he comes in, rushes to the bathroom (since this old man’s bladder ain’t what it used to be), comes out and demands I move out of his spot on the couch. (He has one particular spot on one of our couches. He won’t sit on any of the others because my mother bought them without his permission and he’s a childish ass).

This man can be the most controlling, sarcastic and obnoxious person I have ever met. The other day, we (my father, mom and I) went out to dinner with some family friends. Days before we actually went, during the planning stages of it all, he bitched about it non-stop. It only grew worse every day up until the actual appointment (and it didn’t stop afterwards either). A half an hour before going, he looked at me, and asked, “Is that what you’re wearing?” I, offended, responded with a quick, “Yes.” He then went on about it how it thought I was a dressy place (which it wasn’t) and I continued not caring even if it was. I was comfortable which what I had one, and I thought I looked just fine. I asked him angrily, “Does this look shabby to you?” and he said, “Yes. It does”. We bickered a bit more until I left the room. Mom was standing there the entire time wearing a Tinker Bell sweatshirt and plain pants. When we left for our friends’ house, Elaine decided to change from a skirt (which she had worn to work) into pants because she wanted to be more comfortable. I laughed and pointed out that my father was overdressed for the occasion.

During dinner, Mom was talking to Elaine about the Gym they had joined. Elaine invited Mom along and Mom thought it would be fun. Last night, however, when she told my father, he told her she couldn’t go. He wasn’t going to let her do it because of her medical conditions (which was just a bunch of bull shit that he made up). I talked to her later and told her that if he wanted to sit on his ass, as his diabetes gets worse, he could, but he has no right to tell her what to do. If she was worried about her medical problems getting in the way, then she should talk to the doctor.

Coming back to today, when dad sat down, he told David to take off his hood and he did so. I was busy with my homework, but had heard what he had said and I thought that was dumb. So I put mine on. Dad then ordered me to take it off. I asked him why, and he told me I looked like a “gang-banger”. I paused and gave him a puzzled look. I then said, “I don’t care what I look like to you. Wearing a hood doesn’t make you a gang-banger”. He ordered it off once again. I refused. I said, “You can’t control everything!”. He then told me to leave the room if I wouldn’t take off my hood. I refused once more telling him that his reasoning was ridiculous. Finally I continued reading my English textbook and he used threats to imply that if I wanted to do anything or go anywhere, he wouldn’t take me. He is trying to use my newly found, barely existent social life against me. After a few minutes of silence, he turns up the volume in attempts to disrupt my reading (which proves how asinine his thinking is, since he obsesses with me getting good grades, yet here he is purposely distracting me). Donia tells him that the volume is too loud and he responds with, “I don’t care. I can do anything I want…blah blah blah”, implying that this was why I was disobeying him. His attempts to distract me fail and I finish my reading and start on my next assignment.

After Donia and David leave, and mom was in the other room, he bitches me out for not doing what he says. “Next time you do what I tell you to do”. All I can say now, is “up yours, old man”. He thinks he can control me like he does Mom, screw it. It’s about time for some rebellion.

The terribly sad thing about this whole thing, is that this is the most I have ever done to rebel. Refusing to take off my hood.