fuck... [continuous editing.]

the worst part is i love her.

actually, the worst part is she's abusive.

i hope the counseling helps...

an attempt at summer

yesterday was a terrible last day of school.

there was no jumping in the lake, or parties [as far as i'm concerned, because i never get invited to them anyway.]

it rained. all day. it was terrible.

aside from the fact that it was, indeed, the LAST DAY OF JUNIOR YEAR!!

i am officially one of the top dogs now. the only problem is... i'm not even graduating next year.

i've decided to scrap some required classes. take showchoir [if i make it in]

i'll be a tenor =]

today has consisted of sleeping in, and writing this blog. later, i'll hang with my friends and girlfriend. [i just hope the relationship we have will improve with the summer months. otherwise, this is wasted energy.]

i hope that with summer comes:

jumping in the lake

tanning with cute girls

sand castles

long drives

late nights

[see my tumblr for more on this list.]

Culture

I was born in a small town in Northern Wisconsin with probably as many, if not more bars than churches. There are even bars out in the middle of nowhere for the farmers who don't want to have to drive into the "city." This is normal.

This is my culture. This is what I grew up with.

My parents weren't really bar goers, for the most part. In the winter time, when I was younger, and my dad would take me out on the back of his touring snowmobile, we'd go to a bar/grille that was probably 45 minutes or so out on the trail. [for a 9 year old, 45 minutes is a loooong snowmobile ride] That bar was our destination. We'd go inside, use the bathroom, peel off our big jackets, gloves, balaclavas.

We'd sit at the bar. I'd get Shirley Temples. My dad would drink... whatever. Sometimes rum and diet coke. Sometimes... things I don't remember.

But that was mostly my only connection with bars. They didn't go out too much to drink. My mom never really drank. Some wine here and there, a "tooth cracking cold beer" on a hot day after doing laborious work. [If you knew/saw my mom, you would understand.] My dad was mostly the same.

Alcoholism runs in my family. And in a lot of families around here too. I just got off the phone with my girlfriend. She's currently staying at her friend's house. Her friend just had her graduation party. All of the adults there are smashed.

What is it about our culture that says it's okay for parents of children to be drunk all the time? Do they know what it's like for those kids? I wonder if they can see what they look like drunk. How disgusting and mean they can be...

What's the point? Seriously. Vomiting and being mean... why is that fun?