math

argh. i wish i had taken math as my major. i wish, i wish, i wish. but then again, when i think back to what was in my head when decisions were made when they were, i can see why i choose engineering, geology, and then in a last ditch attempt to come out ahead: geography. i failed in all three. but math still leaves me feeling excited. so if i had chosen math then, would i have floundered with that too? i mean, was anything i tried doomed to be bullshit, or did i just not make the right choice early on enough?

was it my parents fault for not supporting me in what i liked and loved? was it their fear of my possible failure to get any further than they did that fueled them to take whatever it was that i liked and try to mold that into the idea they had for me from day one, which was based on what they themselves wished they had done? i think so... it's fairly common, so i shouldn't really hold it against them. they wanted me happy. however... when i think about how little either of them paid attention to me overall, it hurts. my sister and brother had one another, but i always was on my own. my mother drank and my father rolled another joint and banged another 18 year old and leased another new car... neither of them were able to make their children the stars of the show. we weren't even an ensamble cast. my dad was gone 95% of the time, and when he did show up, he was a buddy who did fun things... not a dad. at least hardly a dad. hardly.

any my mom... drunk and passed out and crying and screeeeeeeeeaaaaming! jesus fucking christ, she really let it go all the time. the poor fucking woman was a mess and as miserable a person as i had known. but i loved her with all my heart. wait. maybe not... i just loved her as much as i could love anyone. but it probably wasn't with everything i had. i was too neglected and hurt for that. and my dad... that was work! fitting in all the fun that we possibly could, fitting in every little immediate gratification whether it be ice cream, roller skating, r-rated movies with lots of cursing and fascinating nakedness and disconcerting sexual situations... he was eager to be liked and at the time i thought that passed for love. when us kids got to be older and saw how little money our mother raised us on compared to how hard she worked, and how little our father bothered to contribute for the most basic of necessities, opting instead for the wild once in a long-while weekends... we didn't like him so much anymore.

neither of my parents were able to guide me when i entered the world. neither of them could hold me back from throwing myself into adult situations as i attempted to leave behing all the hurt and fear breeding over the years in my dyfunctional family and amongst my abusive peers at school and in my neighborhood. early on i saw that the only girls that paid attention to me either wanted to use me to get even with a friend or pick on me to impress everyone they could. the only boys who liked me did so because i was on my own and separted from the pack, seemingly easy to prey upon and pounce! it was horrible. the only balance i could find was to sink into a world of only men, but men who could at least compensate me for my torture and make it seem bareable.

that went on for a while, but still i wanted love. i was so alone at that point... my family avoided me, i was living alone in a basement apartment at 16, kicked out of the beginning of 11th grade because i wasn't showing up... i worked almost every single night because i had nothing to do otherwise, even with all the money i was making. then i met _____, and things changed. i was shown an alternative. i wasn't very happy at that point, however, good did come from that situation. it forced me to reconcile the double life i was living. i was able to leave work behind, and no longer had to lie, lie, lie. i reconnected with my family, reentered the world of daylight (literally), and eventually took my ged and started college. i was hopeful and eager, so that was nice. i wasn't close to happy though. not close.