It’s Tortilla Time| Hi I’m Tori and This is my Story

Dear Dad,

I am absolutely livid. As you are well aware, Ben has recently returned home from spending a week at your residence. Upon his arrival home, Ben informed me of some things you were saying in my absence. I was absolutely horrified to learn that much of what you were saying had no truth to it at all.

If you and she-who-shall-not-be-named have an issue with me, I would kindly request that you address it with me in person. The first bone you had to pick, I believe, was the fact that I went to the mall with my aunt and cousin. You believe I did this deliberately to get out of watching Liam for you. Even if this was the case, I was not aware that watching your child was my moral obligation. I went to Ohio to visit with my aunt and cousin, which I was accomplishing through shopping with them. Because you have an apparent lack of interest in socializing with our family does not necessarily mean that I have inherited this unfortunate trait from you.

Alas, I am not a nanny that will supervise your children at your every last request. I am a seventeen year old girl with every intention to visit with my family.

I was further annoyed when I learnt that you thought of me as a bitter disappointment. I find your reasoning for this conviction to be quite comical, as you claim that I am not quite social enough. You were furious that I participated in a social activity, going to the mall with my aunt and cousin, and then quickly claimed that I was not social enough for your liking. I am curious as to how you came to this conclusion. Are you aware of how many amazing friends I have? Are you aware of how many social outings I attend? The answer is no, and this is because you, sadly, have had minimal to do with my life for the past seven years. I would appreciate it immensely if you would refrain from talking about things that you are obviously ignorant to, IE my life in general.

You may view me as a bitter disappointment, but I hold you in comparable regard. You are a bitter disappointment as a father, and a human being in general.

I was blown away when she-who-shall-not-be-named claimed that she had recently discontinued giving me money for my good grades. Why you ask? Because over the course of my life I have not once received a penny from either one of you for good grades. In fact, neither of you have ever seen a single report card of mine, a fact that you often grumbled about. I never felt that it was necessary for you to view my report card, as you played no active role in my life whatsoever.

You are nothing to me; you certainly are not a father nor a friend. You are nothing. I never made you choose between she-who-shall-not-be-named or I, but you opted to choose anyway. You chose to leave our family, you chose to discontinue seeing your kids regularly, you chose to move far away, you chose not to inform your kids of your wedding, you chose to begin a new family.

How dare you cry at the train station when I left on Sunday.

One day, I sincerely hope that you come to realize the sacrifices and mistakes you have made. Until then, there is very little that I have to say to you.

Tori

I had a few friends over yesterday, a couple of whom didn’t leave until around one thirty in the morning. By the time I showered and brushed my teeth, I didn’t get to sleep until around two.

At around seven thirty I was awoken by my mother who had left for work. I tossed and turned and after much effort, fell asleep again.

It wasn’t ten minutes later that the phone, located conveniently beside my bed, began ringing shrilly. I crankily answered it, an action that would normally be uncharacteristic for me. I imagine I sounded quite similar to a zombie, and when I learnt that the phone was for Ben, I decided to shake him violently awake and pass it to him. If my slumber was to be disturbed by this, then his was susceptible, too.

I thought for sure I would be up for good. I laid awake, staring at my ceiling, almost envious of the sleeping dog at the foot of my bed. Although, as luck would have it, I was quickly able to fall back into my slumber.

At nine I was rudely awakened by the relentless barking of my Collie. I instructed her, amidst various profanities, to calm down. Sally, being the brilliant, most obedient dog I know, obeyed immediately.

I muttered to myself and tossed and turned for a few moments. This was undoubtedly the worst sleep I had received in quite some time. Much to my astonishment, I was able to doze off again.

I was in a deep, most comfortable sleep when I was awoken by the blaring of my brother’s TV across the hall. He hadn’t gone back to sleep following his phone call. I got up, slammed the door, and laid down yet again.

Just as I began to doze off, the phone rang again. I was angered when I noticed that it was a long distance number, evidence of a telemarketer. I answered the phone and abruptly slammed it down again. WAS THE WORLD DETERMINED TO INTERRUPT MY SLEEP?

Though by now immensely angered, I was able to succumb to my slumber once again. It was around ten thirty when the phone rang for a third time. I answered it begrudgingly, and informed the man that my mother was not available BUT THANKS FOR CALLING.

That was when I decided to wake up.

Today I made sure to move the phone downstairs.

This afternoon found me shifting through old boxes, in desperate search of old journals that I have written. You see, I hope to eventually archive old journal entries on this site, too, in addition to my blog entries.

As I began sorting through old boxes, a particular booklet caught my eye. I immediately fished it out and opened it, taken aback when I realized that it was my parents’ divorce agreement. I opened it, perhaps against better judgement, and began reading intently. I knew that reading this booklet would release a flood of emotion, but I found myself unable to refrain from doing so.

My blood began to boil when I read of the vile tactics my father pulled throughout the process of their separation, most of which I was completely ignorant of. My parents decided to separate in October of 2000, my father not moving out until May of 2001. During those seven months, my father removed himself from family life, whilst my mother tried tirelessly to maintain a sense of family and togetherness for the sake of Ben and I.

Ben and I remained blissfully unaware of the tension lingering in our own home, a fact that I am ashamed of to this day. How could I have not have noticed? It wasn’t until April 29, 2001, a whole two days prior to our father’s departure, that we were informed of their intents to separate. Despite the fact that the separation had been planned for months, though unbeknownst to us, Ben and I were struck with a sense of grief and pure and utter shock.

Flipping through the pages, I learnt of several situations that I was previously unaware of. My father is a selfish, emotionless prick that could have cared less about our family. My mother suffered, as her sole concern was the wellbeing of her children. Despite the fact that my father became lazy and unwilling to help contribute to daily household tasks, my mum put on a brave face and sustained it all.

He withdrew himself from routine family activities, my mum was left to tend to it all. She lost a significant amount of weight on account of the sheer stress, and I had always blamed myself for this. Perhaps if I wasn’t such a demanding child my mum wouldn’t have been so stressed. I am irked now to know that I felt guilt for my father’s doings, not mine.

I was captivated by the divorce booklet for hours, and by the last page tears had welled up in my eyes. I looked up and the first thing I saw was an old picture peeking up from a box; it was of my parents together. It was then that I began to sob hysterically. Suppressed emotion had suddenly come rushing back, and I sat and cried to myself for a few moments. It was strangely therapeutic.

My mum had such a shitty time during the entire separation and divorce ordeal, and I was so caught up in my own emotions and heartache that I hadn’t even thought about what she had endured. Throughout the entire divorce, she had somehow fell victim to my blame. I blamed her for kicking dad out, and I wasn’t eager to forgive her, either.

I sit here is sheer amazement of the inner strength and determination of my mother. I am so gratified that she is my mother, as I have a strong, amazing female role model to look up to. She is most deserving of the happiness that she has found now, as she is with an absolutely amazing man. I can’t recall a time that she has been this content since the divorce.

I hope that my father, the vindictive snake that he is, enjoys his life with his new family and realizes what he has sacrificed and is missing out on.

My chem exam? Yeah, don’t even ask.

In all honesty, I reckon I bombed it. No amount of studying can ever properly prepare me for a chem test, let alone an entire exam. I believe it’s of significance to note that we don’t have midterms, just finals, so we must retain information from last September. But then again, that could just be me making excuses for my own inadequate self.

Deep down I do harbour a profound feeling of resentment, as I have honestly tried my damnedest this year and I still wasn’t good enough. It’s as if all of my efforts have gone unacknowledged, and I feel completely dejected. It seems so unjust that I can put forth a valid effort and fail, but others can brush it off and pass with flying colours.

I did joke yesterday about Plurking when I should have been studying, but it should be known that I actually did put forth hours of study time, even preparing page after page of study sheets. I did not leave my studying until yesterday, I have actually been preparing for this exam for weeks. All of which to no avail.

I should have just thrown my hands in the air in a fit of surrender at the beginning of the year, but no, I was far too optimistic. I succumbed to the naive mindset that I was capable of succeeding in anything if I tried hard enough and truly believed in myself. What a crock of bullshit. I am pleased that I was at least able to learn this lesson early on. Some people are just not cut out for certain things, and no amount of effort can alter that.

This feeling of uncertainty is absolutely agonizing, as it’s unclear whether I passed chemistry or not.

Congratulations chemistry, you win; I feel completely stupid. I don’t even care if I misused the semicolon, I’m in that sort of mood.

Well, I’m off to go cry in my room and loathe in self pity. Cheerio!

My first exam went well, though I nearly died of heat exhaustion. It could not have been less than 35 degrees (celcius) in the exam room, and it was of course filled to capacity. The architect involved in designing my school specialized in designing prisons, and so my school takes on the appearance of a modern day Alcatraz, sans the island. Alas, there is a noticeable lack of windows. Without the presence of windows, air subsequently becomes stale and fetid in each classroom. This, sadly enough, was the case this morning.

You would assume that the absence of windows would encourage teaching staff to equip each room with a fan, but this is unfortunately not so. Today the putrid aroma of strangers’ sweat and body odour occupied the entire room. I did all I could do to prevent myself from succumbing to the stench and gagging hysterically.

My classmates and I were sweating so profusely that our exam supervisor began handing out paper towels. I was sticking to my chair, an unpleasant feeling in itself. As if the stress of the exam wasn’t enough to contend with, we were forced to write it under these excruciating conditions.

I began to fear passing out, as I do so under severe heat, but thankfully I managed to rough it out alive.

Add this to the list of reasons why I hate exams.

Weather may have a direct effect on my mood.

It was pouring today, and it is common knowledge among my friends that I despise the rain. I subsequently was not in the best of moods, and I was aggravated further when I realized that I would have to walk to co-op amid the precipitation.

I was forced to cross a soaking-wet field, which resulted in extreme discomfort. Water had somehow managed to enter my shoe, and each step I took brought more exasperation because of this. By the end of my trek across the field, my shoes were sopping and my feet frigid.

Another reason I despise the rain, despite the obvious, is the fact that it is often accompanied by humidity. I, not unlike many women, am unfortunate enough to possess hair that does not cooperate well with humidity. Alas, my hair completely frizzes up.

Needless to say, I did not look my best entering co-op today. My hair was frizzy, my makeup smudged, and my feet drenched. The veterinarian looked at me and immediately asked if it was raining outside. I nodded politely, resiting any urge to respond No. I just enjoy running through sprinklers with my umbrella, oh wise one, holder of the degree.

I wasn’t in the building two minutes when my boss approached me and said that she needed my help. As it would turn out, one of the veterinary technicians was filming a video of them self injecting a stuffed dog with vaccines (I was told that this was necessary for vet school.) They needed me to look as though I was restraining the stuffed animal. Having no other choice but to agree, I obliged. Despite the fact that I looked like a troll.

I was given strict instructions not to move as the video was filmed. I was to remain still, restraining the stuffed dog with a bona fide gusto. I could, under no circumstance, move my hands.

Everything went smoothly for the first few minutes, that is until my nose started to run. Not knowing what to do, I began to panic.
So I can’t take my damned hands off of this stuffed animal, but there is a booger the length of an anaconda dangling from the tip of my nose. WHAT WOULD DOOCE DO?
The video shot on, though I couldn’t determine whether or not my face was within the field of view. I knew full well that my hands were, and a single movement of them could have resulted in a catastrophe.

The technician talked on, my booger crisis completely unbeknownst to her. I was visibly panic stricken, but ultimately decided to wipe my nose.

Fortunately the technician failed to notice, though she will have incriminating evidence when she views the DVD.

Co-op was an adventure yet again.

As per my usual regime, my day began by walking a dog in boarding. I was told that he had had experienced difficulty relieving his bowels earlier (notice how sophisticated I’m capable of being?), and to expect some straining in his attempts. I acknowledged this and canine and I embarked on our walk. It wasn’t five minutes later that, as warned, the dog began to squat. Pain was apparent, and as hard as the dog may have tried, nothing was produced.

The situation was comparable to that of a train wreck, whereas you don’t particularly desire to watch it unfold, though you are unable to turn away. I felt almost guilty watching the poor guy, I figured he at least deserved some level of privacy.

I then noticed blood leaking from the dog’s behind. I quickly rushed the little guy back to the vet clinic, but not before he made several more fruitless attempts at pooping. I quickly alerted the staff, who suggested that I return to where I walked him in search of a sample.

So there I was walking in a field, crouching over, sporting noticeably large rubber gloves in desperate search of a piece of bloody dog poo. I don’t even think that it deserves the liberty of being called poo. It was more along the lines of bloody dog liquid. Plants a lovely image in your head, no?

I was unable to locate the matter, but it hardly put a damper on my day.

I was then put in charge of writing out professional documents for the vet clinic. They assumed that I could handle a duty as simple as filling out a cat’s name and the date. I tried not to disappoint, though for the date I marked down May 22, 2009. Twice.

2009? What the hell had possessed me to write that? Though I couldn’t quite figure out why I had written it, I quickly decided that she-who-shall-not-be-named was to blame. That bitch.

I met up with Cam immediately proceeding co-op and discussed some of the days events. I explained them to him in vivid detail.

No, no, you don’t get it! THE DOG WAS BLEEDING OUT THE ASS!

Co-op was utter mayhem today.

It began as I observed a Yorkshire Terrier undergo a routine dentistry. I find dental procedures fascinating, don’t get me wrong, but I much prefer invasive operations such as spays and neuters. As I was watching teeth being extracted from the petite pooch, a vet tech suggested that I clean a few kennels. This shouldn’t be a problem, I thought, I can get this done in five minutes.

I had barely begun this task when another veterinary technician instructed me to walk the dogs in boarding and clean the floors. I hurried to complete the cleaning of the kennels and went to walk the boarders. I was tickled when I saw the two dogs that I would be walking; a fluffy little Bichon puppy and an adorable Westie mix. Piece of cake.

Though as it would turn out, the Bichon would crap all over its kennel, resulting in me cleaning this particularly smelly mess. Amidst gagging and nose-plugging, I would look at the sweet faced puppy and wonder how it could possibly produce such a foul-smelling odour.

The Westie mix was a high-strung little dog with horrendous leash manners. It pulled with such gusto that it would strain on the end of the leash, walking on two feet. It was quite a sight to behold.

When I returned to the clinic, I was then told to begin a load of laundry before I started the floors. As my luck would have it, there were about three loads that required folding. I began this tedious task, but was interrupted when a call from upstairs asked for an extra pair of hands to aid in a nail-trimming. A vet tech told me to go.

I don’t particularly mind holding animals for nail trims. I envisioned the sweet little dog that I would restrain for the nail-trimming, but realized I was sorely mistaken when I was told that it would be an ill-behaved 100+ lb. German Shepherd. Great. I wrestled with this dog as it screamed bloody-murder, but eventually needed the help of two other veterinary technicians and a veterinarian.

I returned to the downstairs area out of breath, and quickly continued my folding. ‘After you’re done folding, can you please take out the garbage? It’s REALLY stinky.’

And she wasn’t lying. It smelled like death. Far worse than the puppy shit I had cleaned up earlier. If hell had a smell, it would undoubtedly be the aroma of that garbage bag. I began gagging, my eyes watering. I could feel my stomach churn.

As if the smell wasn’t bad enough, the bag was ridiculously heavy. I had to use every ounce of strength I could possibly muster and drag that baby up the stairs.

As I replaced the garbage bag, my boss stood before me with a cheerful aura. ‘So, how was your weekend?’ she asked. Well let’s see, how would you rate being branded a ‘back stabber’ by your friend for no apparent reason?
‘Pretty uneventful but okay,’ I lied.
‘UNEVENTFUL? You mean you didn’t do anything young and hip or go to any parties???’
‘Well not this weekend,’ I calmly responded, resisting any urge I had to jump on an exam table and begin hurling random objects across the room.

As I was about to begin the floors, yet another veterinary technician approached me and asked me to feed and medicate a cat in boarding. I complied, and was instructed how to properly give the cat its medication. I took a syringe and filled it with the medication. I had inserted slightly too much, so I began to push some out. As I did so, the medication shot about five feet in the air and got all over the ceiling.
‘SHIT!’ I gasped, though fortunately no one was within earshot.

I cleaned up that mess, mopped the floors and ran the hell out before anyone could ask me to do anything else.

Yesterday my friend Tammy and I were hanging out at her place, as per our usual regime on weekends. We had already had a sleepover and I had spent the majority of the day with her. Our visit was cut short when my mum called and instructed me to come home for dinner. I knew that we were going out proceeding dinner, so I told Tammy that we may or may not be able to hang out after, depending on the time I got home.

We returned home from our outing and decided to have a fire in our backyard (this is a post in itself, I will elaborate later.) My mum’s boyfriend and his daughter were over, and we were having a good time. Tammy called whilst we were around the fire, and I told her that there wouldn’t be time to hang out tonight, but possibly tomorrow.

I then received an angry text message on my phone from Tammy, stating that I wouldn’t hang out with her last night because I was ‘roasting marsh mellows’ with Asia. Asia is my good friend that Tammy despises, as they often competed for my friendship as children. I responded to her text and said that no, I was doing no such thing. Also included in my text was the fact that I was possibly doing something the following day (today) and that we may not be able to hang out because of this. You see, my mum wanted to go to the art gallery.

Fast forward to this morning, I notice that Tammy responded to my text message. She was absolutely livid. Her response was really heated, saying things such as ‘how dare you blow off our plans,’ ‘you don’t care how you treat me,’ ‘don’t bother texting me back.’

I had to stop and ponder. Was this foreal? There was no way she could be serious. First of all, we had never made any legitimate plans. I had made a specific effort to say that we could ‘possibly’ hang out today, as I had not yet known what the day would entail. And as it had turned out, my mum wanted to go to an art gallery. It wasn’t as if I had said ’screw you, I’m going to the mall with other friends.’

I then logged onto MSN messenger and noticed that she had changed her screen name to something along the lines of ‘I can’t believe that my family would back stab me.’ She had always told me that she had thought of me as family.

Back stab her? I couldn’t believe this, I had done nothing! And this was the frustrating part, knowing that I had done nothing wrong.

I’m still seething. I cannot believe that she is making such a big deal out of nothing at all. I wish I had that kind of energy.

While Greece brought many good times, it also meant that I was forced to spend a considerable amount of time with people I cannot stand.

I was forced to room with two of such people. I was in Mexico when the rooms were determined for Greece. I was defenceless, vulnerable. I returned to find that I would room with Laura and Megan, news that was met with profound disappointment.

I like to think that I’m generally an easy-going person. I’m peaceful, I don’t like to initiate arguments. I prefer to get my point across in a series of subtle and not-so-subtle hints.

Laura’s friends (who are about as annoying as she is) were perpetually in our room. I would lend them my magazines, to receive them back with crosswords and the like completed. I allowed them to listen to my iPod, just to get it back on the very last leg of its battery life. This resulted in no music for my flight home. I was understandably pissed.

And it must have been a miracle, because with a mere sip of an alcoholic beverage Laura would claim that she was completely trashed. What was humorous at first soon became agitating, as she would begin to describe her ‘drunken’ tales that had obviously never occurred.

And she never got any of my hints. Not even the not-so-subtle ones.

She assumed that the ‘one-sip-Laura’ nickname was one made in fun.

As I was standing on an elevator, she began to walk toward me.
‘Where are you going?’ She asked.
‘AWAY FROM YOU!!!!’ I countered, and began to press the ‘Close doors’ button in a fluster.
‘Close, close. dammit!’ I yelled in frustration as I profusely hammered on the button.
‘Oh Tori, you’re so funny.’ She giggled as the doors shut in her face.

I was, if for only a second, safe.