Yesterday did not go as planned. Nothing went the way it should have--but I suppose that's all you can say about a day that starts with a nuclear-level argument with my father.

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I don't know what to do about him anymore: I've managed to hold my tongue for the last while because he's my landlord, and I don't want to piss him off. He makes things difficult when you don't agree with him, when you make trouble. I've overlooked things that just can't be overlooked any longer (take, for example, him gouging us for an extra $500 a month when we first moved in here even though he knew it was hard for us to scrape together), and yesterday things just got worse--I called to ask what happened with my brother the day before (heard through the indian grapevine that my brother had gotten into a nasty fight with the Evil Stepmother To Be) and it devolved into the same argument we have over and over.

Dad tells me it's none of my business. I say it's my family, too, and it is my business. He tells me I'm just stirring up trouble, that I love conflict (which is sometimes the case, but not with something serious like this. What's serious? ESTB calls my brother--the one who has struggled with learning disabilities, the one to whom she said, "Oh, you must be stupid, you only read magazines and not books"--she called him retarded, easily the worst possible thing you can tell a boy like him.) I tell him that what she said is completely unacceptable, and what does he say? That since she said it in anger, it didn't count. That she felt bad, too. That's it's not any of my business.

On and on the argument goes, where it stops nobody knows--Actually, it stopped right around the time he told me I was being "asinine" and that I needed a "reality check". I'd had enough then. He's not going to admit that he's wrong, and I'm not going to tell him he's right--so why keep beating this dead horse? and I hang up on him.

He's a liar and a cheat, and sometimes I wish he weren't my dad.

He tried playing the "You and your brother are the most important things in the world to me" card, which only made me angrier--I have never been the most important thing. I've been an embarassment and a hassle, and my brother is just trouble, apparently. Maybe there was a time when my brother was younger and dad still coached his baseball team and buddy did everything dad told him to...maybe then he was more important than money and making sure dad's friends all thought he was the greatest guy in the universe--but it's not even close anymore.

He's never going to apologize for being a crappy dad (and I know, there are far worse fathers in existence. My dad was never physically abusive, we were never hungry or lacking for shelter, and he's always said he loved us. I guess it's just hard to believe him when he says it--he's lied about so many things, including the existence of another brother we've never met!--how do I know what he's saying is true? And if it is true, then why doesn't it feel that way sometimes?) and I have a hard time remembering forgiveness when things like this happen.

I love my dad, even when I wish I didn't. I just want a solution for this.

...

So that was how my yesterday started--and didn't get much better, since my crying and sobbing only set my mother off, leaving her in a "mood" for the rest of the day.

I want so badly to just fix her. I know, I know--if years of therapy and anti-depressants haven't worked, then there's not likely to be anything I can do.

I decided yesterday that I'm going to start putting the unused 87% of my brain to work. I need to heal with touch, levitate buildings, perform miracles. Even if those miracles are things like: making the crosswalk light turn green.

...

Also, we found a house.

I should probably put that in bold type, 18pt. font or something. Things aren't concrete yet, but it's (almost) perfect and I'm in love with it already.

More when things start to solidify.