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Prison Sentence
30 June 2003 @ 11:20 p.m.
I would have more privacy in prison; a large women�s prison where I would share a cell with three other psychotic ladies in matching jumpsuits. At least those women would not stare at me constantly saying, �I wish I knew how to perk you up a bit, dear.�
I could scream right now. Today was one of those days where I honestly needed to be alone and in a nice quiet restful environment. I get this way every so often, where I can only handle so much noise and so much interpersonal contact. I wasn�t in a bad mood, wasn�t overly tired, wasn�t unmotivated. There was no tantrum, no grouchiness, nothing. Just me looking to spend some quality time with me. No, I�m not talking about a little she-bop either, just time where I could sit around and watch television or listen to the Cure at my own leisure. The Mother can�t handle it when I do this. She will hover for hours at a time, �I wish there was something I could do to perk you up. Are you tired? Why don�t you smile, dear?�
Years have been wasted with this conversation between the two of us. This is how I recharge the little batteries that make Red run; I take my one or two days a month and shut down. She has never learned this and will honestly make it worse. I do not choose these days, they choose me, so her reaction (finally, after about three hours of the perky question) �Well, your Father and I will be going out to dinner tomorrow and then leaving in the morning for House#2 so you can have your time then� is worthless to me.
Privacy is a privilege in this house. Doors are not allowed to be closed. All plans must be disclosed to all members of the family before leaving the house, even if it�s just to run to the store for new knee-highs for work. My excuses for my cigarette drives are becoming more pathetic. I have no problem with my nicotine habit nor do I try to hide it, but the Parentals want to know exactly where I will be driving or going. I miss being able to close the door to my room, wear nothing but my robe, and sit in front of my desk reading while listening to Liz Phair as loud as I could blast it. Here I�m forced to �get dressed� all the time, even if I have nowhere to go.
I�m starting to think that maybe I should just call up the landlord of the new fantabulous apartment and see how early I can move in there. Then quit the theatre and find me a more lucrative and steady job somewhere that will still allow me to go to school part time. To think, I�m considering finding a waitressing job at one of the bars back home now that I see how lucrative it can be.
Until then, I'll turn up the radio and spend the only alone time I get here with the joy of Diaryland.
currently reading: The Tower and the Hive - Anne McCaffrey
currently listening: The Cure - All Mixed Up
