Kangatopia

My mother always told me that if I don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything at all. I am really very angry and frustrated about the way things are going with my ex, my father and how all this affects the kids that it’s difficult to talk about my children without bringing all that other shit in. This morning I got yelled at by my son’s school principal for by-passing the long line of cars that had stalled mid-way through the drop-off point, and pulling up to the front. It wasn’t out of impatience - rather that I was trying to contribute some efficiency to a system that guarantees every single child who arrives at the school less than ten minutes before the bell rings will be tardy to class.

By the time I arrived at work, I had committed myself to a day of staying holed up in my office and trying to avoid as many people as possible. The bright, over-compensating cheerfulness as I said good morning to my co-workers, and especially to the one mentioned above, was a little freaky. My mood has lightened a little. It’s really hard to do this job when I’m feeling intensely misanthropic.

Winston and Monkey fell asleep during the car ride home last night. I thought I was finally going to have some time to clean our home and maybe breathe or meditate or some shit like that. As soon as I lifted Winston out of the car, she began screaming. Her skin itches. It’s pissing her off. She screamed pretty much all night, and I was just waiting for the police to knock on the door after they were called by the frustrated and angry neighbors. I have no idea how much they can hear from my apartment. I never hear anything but their music and tv, but Winston screams in short, high-pitched bursts and that’s got to work its way through someone’s subconscious.