Katie Doyle, Girl About Town

Thursday, Mar. 09, 2006 - 1:04 a.m.

Lent sucks. I want sugar.

It looks like I will only get to go to Paris for 3 months. The housemate is realizing how much 6 months is going to cost and is starting to back down. Three months is still great, but I have to admit I'm disappointed. That means all I will be doing is working on the book. No time for anything else, really. Unless I find a way to raise $7000 in the next 3 months. Anyone?

The crap with my dad drags on. I finally got my claim form from the state of Texas, and it turns out that the account is in my father's name, with me listed as the secondary claimant. Gee. My brother's money is all in his (my brother's) name. Yet mine? In my dad's. And Dad last accessed it in 1987. So yeah...I'm thinkin' there's not much left. It's just another slap in the face from the father who never missed a chance to tell me I didn't really matter because I was a girl. On the one hand, he didn't ride my ass in sports the way he did my brother, which was a definite plus. On the other, he also failed to recognize each and every one of my achievements, no matter what they were in or for. And every fucking time I say something he has to acknowledge as intelligent, you should see the look he gets on his face. His mouth literally falls open and he cocks his head to the side in a look of such utter amazement, it would be comical were it not so goddamned patronizing. Then he says, in this astonished tone of voice, "That's right. I'll be damned. How'd you get to be so smart?" Only he doesn't say it like he's proud of me, he says it like he's completely flummoxed and really just can not wrap his brain around the fact that I actually know how to think. He's astounded I was able to reason out whatever statement I have made. Really, the more I have to deal with my father anymore, the more I really fucking hate him. But what I still have trouble grasping is how someone can fuck over their own child(ren) so completely and utterly thoroughly and then still say with a straight face, "I love you."

Never. Going. To. Die.

Actually, though, I used to wonder why, when I was in a car alone with my dad, I would sit as tensely as possible, with my arms crossed tight across my chest, as far away from his as I could get, pressed against the car door. Now I just think it was my natural instinct for self-preservation.

Next month sometime, Cujo/Sybil is moving to a new office down the hall. It will just be me and another transcriber, and the editors in their closed little bays. Hallelujah and praise the lord.

I hate when people you don't know invite you to join an email list, and then when you ask them where they got your address, act all coy about it and all gee, I don't know, it was on the phone list. No, it wasn't fucking on the phone list. I don't fucking know you. I have never known you. I have never worked for the company you work for. If you want me to contribute to your fucking cause, buck the fuck up and tell me where you got my fucking address.

Dude. I'm really angry. This was a bad idea. How 'bout I go away again and don't come back until I have had a chance to decompress from my father's latest intrusion into my life? The last one was just yesterday. Clearly, I'm not ready to be around people yet.

Bygones.

Peace out,
Katie

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Yesterday's News - Next Stop

In which Katie shares sad news - Wednesday, Apr. 01, 2015
In which Katie returns after a very long absence - Monday, Jun. 25, 2012
In which Katie pokes her head in and brushes some of the cobwebs away - Thursday, May. 06, 2010
In which Katie asks you to write your congressman again. - Monday, Jun. 02, 2008
In which Katie asks you to please click the link and send the message to protect the rights of artists - Wednesday, May. 21, 2008