[February, 1991] Sigh! Yay! F#ck! YES!
Feb. 15, 1991
Sigh! I’m really happy (I know it doesn’t sound that way but I am.) because my parents are going to Atlantic city on business and I am going to spend three days (we have a long weekend) with Rose! Yay! The reason I’m sighing is because my mom is mad at me. Same old thing: I’m never satisfied and I’m unappreciative.
The reason my mom considers me unappreciative is this: Tomorrow Rose and her friends were planning to go shopping at Ceasar’s bay. Rose invited me to come along, and I really want to, but my parents say that if they leave later, they will just drop me off at Rose’s house while I’m left with her parents waiting for Rose to show up. The only good thing is that my parents don’t exactly know what time they are leaving, so there is a chance that I might go. Yeah, like a one percent chance! My mother said that she doesn’t want me to go shopping with Rose and her friends because there wouldn’t be any adults with us and my mom is afraid that something would happen to us.
Sh#t! What a gyp! It’s like hardly anything goes exactly the way I want it to. F#ck! Oh well, at least I’ll spend a few days with Rose.
Yay! I just found out that I am going shopping tomorrow after all. YES!
If you’re happy-frustrated-angry-pouty-and-then-happy-again-because-you-got-your-way and you know it clap your hands…
Yes, I realize this entry does not paint me in a spoiled and bratty light. I could try to make excuses, about how the long commute to Hunter and heavy academic workload left very little time for socializing. I could mention that at thirteen years old, it was a big deal to be able to spend time with friends without adults hovering nearby. That it was a big deal to go shopping. That I was having so little fun in 7th grade I didn’t want to miss out on what little chances for it came my way blah blah blah. But let’s call it what it is: I was being kind of awful. The terrible teens were setting in, and it would get worse before it got better.
Also? Ceasar’s Bay Bazar is where I got those New Kids on the Block jeans, so not allowing me to shop there might have prevented further fashion disasters. Kind of like the wardrobe equivalent of not allowing me to get that perm. But either fortune favored me in that moment or my adolescent moping wore my folks down and I got my way. Go me?