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It's weird. We don't really fight so much as avoid one another, or whatever. And I should have this inherent lesson built in me, experience from my dad and other guys, that you simply DO NOT want to argue with a guy on Super Bowl Sunday, because even if he isn't half-naked in Detroit painted aqua and screaming, he still cares-- a little bit. He stopped watching in the 2nd quarter I think, but by that time I didn't give a crap what he thought and it was just generally a flopped day.
Everything was okay at first-- the whole thing that pissed me off yesterday had blown over, and we talked and smoothed it over. And for the first time in what felt like forever, we finally slept together in my room, just being with one another. He wasn't being all stoic and non-romantic, nor was he being all "eew" because of the tail-end of my eye infection (it's almost gone). It was NICE. And you know what, maybe even heartwarming, because of the things we said. But then it all seems to slip away in an instant, leaving me wondering if he really cares, or if those "moments of emotion" that I wish for him to show on a more regular basis are really just sparks of him losing his mind and sanity. But that's the cynic in me talking, saying no man in his right mind would ever say this or that about me, unless he had some horribly nasty ulterior motive.
We ended up getting a lot done last night-- we went to IKEA, Target, Borders... of course, I ended up being the only one spending money, because Scott just couldn't find a desk lamp he liked. I ended up splurging on 3 bras, Mulan II (damn, I forgot the $3 off coupon!), the Yu-Gi-Oh Movie (no cards included! HEY!!), a new closet hanging compartment, a new notebook, and the third book in the "Wars of the Roses" trilogy by R. Garcia y Robertson, "White Rose." It's the sequel to "Knight Errant" and "Lady Robyn." ^_^ So far, it's pretty good!
Anyhow, things were good up until late this afternoon... more shopping, less lamp purchasing. Scott finally got his keys to his house, which wasn't as much of a big deal as I would have thought. You know, making it all official and all. Then Scott decided to take me to this empty (mostly) parking lot by CSUN and... make me drive. Sort of. First were the lectures about "this does this, and that does that." It was all very enlightening, but know this: I AM SCARED SHITLESS OF DRIVING. The possibility of driving, the consequences of driving, the fact that even if I knew how to drive, I wouldn't have a car or the money for gas or the sanity to do so, certainly not in LA county...
It's a freakish hidden phobia of mine, okay? I can play Initial D and Crazy Taxi, but stick me behind the wheel of a real car and I will start hyperventilating. Or something close to it. Well, after a good half hour, I ended up doing circles around the parking lot, and only had Scott raise his voice at me twice. But he still thinks it's ridiculous (at least, that's how his voice sounded) that I don't WANT to know how to drive, because I don't see it as necessary. Yes, there's always the horrible possibility that something will happen to someone I love and I will be in that situation where I will NEED to drive (and knowing me, if I end up getting a license, can't you just see me as the poor one getting roped to play Designated Driver after every party?) but...
So we went home, mission mostly accomplished. Scott started sounding like my Dad once he told Baba and Grandpa what we'd done; he highly overinflated how well I did. I mean, I didn't crash into anything or send sparks up from his shocks, but... I was scared. Really, really scared, and he damn well knew it.
Blah, blah, Super Bowl time. I have about the interest of a fruit fly on a nectarine, so I'm reading "White Rose" and just glancing up at the scores and the commercials. Sometime in between all this, Dad calls, and he says (as he and the other Sweets have been saying for a while now) that if Scott's going to be living here for any extended period of time, he better act as "Mini Marty" and be the fixer-upper, to earn his keep. Heck knows I can't do half the things my dad can, with the will or the strength to. Baba and Grandpa certainly can't, so that leaves Scott. It was all in the agreement anyhow, since Baba and Grandpa don't want Scott's money for rent.
One thing leads to another, and Scott's once again chastising me for something I said that a) wasn't to him, and b) even if it was, was said in jest, not in total seriousness. I told him he forgot things, and he retorted with "Well, it's not exactly like YOU don't need any improvement yourself." I just stopped talking to him then and there, closed up my book, and marched upstairs. And there I stayed for a good hour or so probably, before Stupid Scott finally bothered to knock.
He asked me all of two questions, barely meeting my gaze (when he's upset with me, he won't look at me) and then left again without coming back. He was done watching the game, and I was done wasting my energy crying over him and his male idiocy complex or whatever it is that keeps him so stubborn. I turned on some Sarah Brightman and got cleaning. I sorted out some of my tank tops, tees, and pants, and then moved my closet space over some... then I put all my CDs back, and so on. Eventually I got bored enough to go downstairs and do my Journalism homework, a news analysis report on the characteristics of news. Once that was done, I got to playing with the computer-- Outlook Express is still being a bitch to me, and trying to integrate it with McAfee SpamKiller hasn't helped any. It freezes now, whenever I open it, so I have 300+ emails that are totally inaccessible to me. GRRREAAAAT.
Scott and I spoke a bit earlier-- but not about what made me upset (I figured I should just let it blow over). He was up in his room most of the night, cleaning up and setting up his G4. He pretty much had me up there for tech support, that's it. -_- That's great. I HATE THAT JOB! He came down to the rec room later, I saw him doing his laundry, and then when I brought up his finished laundry, he was conked out. Or something-- his room was pretty dark, considering he likes to sleep with the blinds open. But he wasn't GONE or anything, and he didn't answer me. According to him, once he's out, he's OUT. Like, out like a light.
...*sigh* So that's my melodramatic sigh. I feel like I should just forget about it and move on, but it's going to bug me, because last night was so nice and everything, and now we're back to being all ignore-y and all. I hate it. And tomorrow I have to wake up at 7am anyhow and get to school by 8am to work on the Sundial, because I didn't go on Thursday or Friday! >_
Everything was okay at first-- the whole thing that pissed me off yesterday had blown over, and we talked and smoothed it over. And for the first time in what felt like forever, we finally slept together in my room, just being with one another. He wasn't being all stoic and non-romantic, nor was he being all "eew" because of the tail-end of my eye infection (it's almost gone). It was NICE. And you know what, maybe even heartwarming, because of the things we said. But then it all seems to slip away in an instant, leaving me wondering if he really cares, or if those "moments of emotion" that I wish for him to show on a more regular basis are really just sparks of him losing his mind and sanity. But that's the cynic in me talking, saying no man in his right mind would ever say this or that about me, unless he had some horribly nasty ulterior motive.
We ended up getting a lot done last night-- we went to IKEA, Target, Borders... of course, I ended up being the only one spending money, because Scott just couldn't find a desk lamp he liked. I ended up splurging on 3 bras, Mulan II (damn, I forgot the $3 off coupon!), the Yu-Gi-Oh Movie (no cards included! HEY!!), a new closet hanging compartment, a new notebook, and the third book in the "Wars of the Roses" trilogy by R. Garcia y Robertson, "White Rose." It's the sequel to "Knight Errant" and "Lady Robyn." ^_^ So far, it's pretty good!
Anyhow, things were good up until late this afternoon... more shopping, less lamp purchasing. Scott finally got his keys to his house, which wasn't as much of a big deal as I would have thought. You know, making it all official and all. Then Scott decided to take me to this empty (mostly) parking lot by CSUN and... make me drive. Sort of. First were the lectures about "this does this, and that does that." It was all very enlightening, but know this: I AM SCARED SHITLESS OF DRIVING. The possibility of driving, the consequences of driving, the fact that even if I knew how to drive, I wouldn't have a car or the money for gas or the sanity to do so, certainly not in LA county...
It's a freakish hidden phobia of mine, okay? I can play Initial D and Crazy Taxi, but stick me behind the wheel of a real car and I will start hyperventilating. Or something close to it. Well, after a good half hour, I ended up doing circles around the parking lot, and only had Scott raise his voice at me twice. But he still thinks it's ridiculous (at least, that's how his voice sounded) that I don't WANT to know how to drive, because I don't see it as necessary. Yes, there's always the horrible possibility that something will happen to someone I love and I will be in that situation where I will NEED to drive (and knowing me, if I end up getting a license, can't you just see me as the poor one getting roped to play Designated Driver after every party?) but...
So we went home, mission mostly accomplished. Scott started sounding like my Dad once he told Baba and Grandpa what we'd done; he highly overinflated how well I did. I mean, I didn't crash into anything or send sparks up from his shocks, but... I was scared. Really, really scared, and he damn well knew it.
Blah, blah, Super Bowl time. I have about the interest of a fruit fly on a nectarine, so I'm reading "White Rose" and just glancing up at the scores and the commercials. Sometime in between all this, Dad calls, and he says (as he and the other Sweets have been saying for a while now) that if Scott's going to be living here for any extended period of time, he better act as "Mini Marty" and be the fixer-upper, to earn his keep. Heck knows I can't do half the things my dad can, with the will or the strength to. Baba and Grandpa certainly can't, so that leaves Scott. It was all in the agreement anyhow, since Baba and Grandpa don't want Scott's money for rent.
One thing leads to another, and Scott's once again chastising me for something I said that a) wasn't to him, and b) even if it was, was said in jest, not in total seriousness. I told him he forgot things, and he retorted with "Well, it's not exactly like YOU don't need any improvement yourself." I just stopped talking to him then and there, closed up my book, and marched upstairs. And there I stayed for a good hour or so probably, before Stupid Scott finally bothered to knock.
He asked me all of two questions, barely meeting my gaze (when he's upset with me, he won't look at me) and then left again without coming back. He was done watching the game, and I was done wasting my energy crying over him and his male idiocy complex or whatever it is that keeps him so stubborn. I turned on some Sarah Brightman and got cleaning. I sorted out some of my tank tops, tees, and pants, and then moved my closet space over some... then I put all my CDs back, and so on. Eventually I got bored enough to go downstairs and do my Journalism homework, a news analysis report on the characteristics of news. Once that was done, I got to playing with the computer-- Outlook Express is still being a bitch to me, and trying to integrate it with McAfee SpamKiller hasn't helped any. It freezes now, whenever I open it, so I have 300+ emails that are totally inaccessible to me. GRRREAAAAT.
Scott and I spoke a bit earlier-- but not about what made me upset (I figured I should just let it blow over). He was up in his room most of the night, cleaning up and setting up his G4. He pretty much had me up there for tech support, that's it. -_- That's great. I HATE THAT JOB! He came down to the rec room later, I saw him doing his laundry, and then when I brought up his finished laundry, he was conked out. Or something-- his room was pretty dark, considering he likes to sleep with the blinds open. But he wasn't GONE or anything, and he didn't answer me. According to him, once he's out, he's OUT. Like, out like a light.
...*sigh* So that's my melodramatic sigh. I feel like I should just forget about it and move on, but it's going to bug me, because last night was so nice and everything, and now we're back to being all ignore-y and all. I hate it. And tomorrow I have to wake up at 7am anyhow and get to school by 8am to work on the Sundial, because I didn't go on Thursday or Friday! >_
