Blind Rage February 03, 2010, 07:28:28 AM

So I finally got that fiasco situated in the gallery aka “media” section.  Basically, the script won’t allow you to delete an album that has items in it.  Even if the files are not physically on the server, if the database says so then fuck you and the horse you rode in on.  THEY ARE STILL THERE.  So I spent most of the morning deleting files that technically did not exist.  Yay.

Uploaded the files again and they’re all in proper place so double yay.  B[redacted]’s Hellsing extras are converting nicely so super special awesome yay.  The place is finally starting to feel like home to me.  It’s grown on me and I will feel sad if it ever goes.

That aside, I made an article category finally.  I have some stuff in the Big Book of Everything that I have been planning on putting there.  That will be mission, aside from trying to record myself singing a JOJ song with screaming in it, later on in the day.  Might sing a Tenacious D song too.  Was thinking of this one:


And a Geni song.  This one because of sentimental value (it was the song that made me like Genitorturers aside from “I Touch Myself” -first version that I heard of the song- which was originally done by Divinyls in 1991):

Divinyls Original Masturbation Song:
Divinyls – I Touch Myself (The video’s owner prevents external embedding)

So.  Blind Rage.

Well, the first time that I truly let all anger loose inside me was sometime in the earlier months of last year.  My mother was living in the basement of a building my parents own for some time and she had not told me until that particular day.  Before she decided to live there, she was living in her car.  She said that my father kicked her out of the house when I was done interrogating her in our school’s cafeteria.  Well, not fully.  He was just saying shit like:

This is my food.  I pay for it.  This is my house.  I pay for it.  I pay for those clothes you are wearing.  You have nothing without me.  You are shit without me.  You are shit.  You are worth nothing more than the shit under my shoes.

That is verbatim.  I memorized it simply because he repeats it word for word during the fight and he has said it to me multiple times and he has said it during multiple fights with my mother.  He brought that up during a fight they were having as per usual.  He loves to throw what he does in your face and make you feel guilt for fighting back.  It’s his way of taking control over you.  Guilt in any form.  Letting him provide for you in any way is basically an opening for later onslaughts and attacks.  So my mother decided to do what I did a long time ago, she decided to stop letting him support her financially so he can’t use it as emotional leverage against her.

That, along with some few choice details that she disclosed about their fight, made me livid.   One such details was him calling her a whore once more.  Now, that wouldn’t normally bug me more than his usual curse words if it were not for two facts:

One, my mother has a trauma of being called that because my grandfather used to call her that regularly when growing up.  She TOLD him that and he STILL does it.  Over and over and fucking over again.  Two, she was a virgin when she met him.  In every sense of the word.  If you are going to look at purity as defined by religion, she was more pure than he was upon their first meeting and subsequent marriage.  She has not been with any man besides him.  Ever.  In any way.  Emotionally or physically.  He knows this.  The bastard knows this and yet he calls her a whore.  And I know how it feels for the one you lost your virginity to to call you a whore.  To even accuse you of not even being a virgin when you two met.

I took her cellphone.  I did not have a cellphone then because I was not of enough consequence for people to keep in contact with.  I had a house phone and the internet.  Cellphone was excess at that point.

I took her cellphone and went downstairs to the front of the school.  Where the two men are standing:

I called him.  Normally I would be scared to call him because I would not want to hear the slew of insults and put-downs.  My self-esteem was far more fragile than it is now.  He would have destroyed any resolve that I had to do accomplish anything.  That was the first time I heard his voice in three years.  I didn’t let him get a word in edge-wise though.  I was so mad that as I cursed at him for the first time in my life, the words stopped coming out in my normal pissed tone.  I started to scream and it just wouldn’t stop.  Every word was just one angry scream.  It only got worse as I went on.  I put Jessicka and damn near every screamo and metal vocalist to shame that day.  After saying/screaming what I wanted to, I eventually hung up in his face.  Something I have never done before either.  I was shaking during and after the exchange.  From anger.

It was so bad that one girl that was passing by asked me if I wanted her to hold the cellphone because I think I looked like I was going to throw it across the street.  There is a girl that still attends the school called J[redacted].  She is young, somewhat hyper, and very violent.  We got along quite well.  She lay rest her rants about fucking people up long enough to ask me what was wrong.  Something she does not do often.

We talked on a later date.

After the vent, I headed back upstairs to give my mother her phone again.  M[redacted], the bipolar friend, was there with my mother.  They were talking some more.  I was still angry and banging something not too loudly on the table.

Some black bitch two tables away wants to start saying shit like they do in third person.  “OH People need to stop making all that noise..that fucking banging.”  So I said, “If you want to fucking say something to someone then say it to their face.” while looking at her.  She paused like she didn’t believe someone would say something.  OMFG a white bitch has the balls to talk back instead of sitting back meekly!  I had went back to looking down because if I looked up, I was going to walk over there and beat the living shit out of that woman.  I could taste it.

She eventually said, “If someone has a problem then they can come straight to my face.”  I twitched and M[redacted], who was not letting go of my leg the whole time, held onto me tighter.  She looked very worried.  My mother told the woman the following: Just let her be.  We’re going through something right now.  She’s not doing anything to you.

I swear on everything, if that woman had said anything back to my mother….part of me wanted her to and was waiting for it.  I guess it was as a way to let out the anger that I still had and was feeling at the moment.

A little bit about M[redacted].  M[redacted] was transferred from two schools because of physical fights she had gotten into at school.  These are public schools and in the late 90’s and early 2000’s.  It had to be bad for that to happen.  Putting the person in a coma or almost killing them type of bad.  Third school, same thing happened so she was confined to home schooling by the government.  Yea.  She’s an angry girl.

And she was scared of what I might do.  That says something.