Two of Five

What follows depression? In my case, anger.
I don't follow any five-step rule, fuck you Kübler-Ross.
...not that I'm dying or anything.

I've just noticed that for the most part, I deal with depression most effectively by getting aggressive.
Damn this hormonal cocktail with which Mom decided to bless me. It makes me be sentimental, crying all over the place, then become the Hulk and punch holes through walls. It's quite lovely... motherfucking testosterone and its bullshit-ass associated behavior.

My dad isn't helping in easing my rage.
For some reason, reason I WILL find out, he has gotten it in his head that he wants to create a Facebook AND twitter account.
I have been blunt with him:
HELL. NO.
Dad: Why?!
Me: Because they were created FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
Dad: I feel too restricted using the internet ONLY for checking my e-mail and reading the news.
Me: WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT IT FOR?!
Dad: I've heard about that thing... Facebook... and Twitter. I want those. I want to be able to read the guestbook.
Me: WHAT GUESTBOOK?!
Dad: They told me I could read what was written.
Me: Look, when you can't even describe what is going on, there is NO REASON for you to have it. You have NO BUSINESS having a Facebook and MUCH LESS a Twitter account.
Dad: I'll just have someone from church set it up for me.
Me: AAAAAHA!! THAT'S who got it in your head!! What fucking NACO was it? I want to meet this fucking asshole. Usted lo quiere para andar de chismoso! Un viejo RIDICULO! (You only want it to be a gossip! A ridiculous old man!)
Dad: I WANT IT AND THAT'S THAT! DO YOU THINK I'M THAT MUCH OF A PENDEJO?!
Me: I KNOW they'll take advantage of you. And the only reason old Hometown people use Facebook is for gossip reasons, DON'T tell me that's not why YOU want it. YOU HAVE A PHONE. Wanna stay in contact with your "friends" USE THE DAMN PHONE like you've been using for the last 50 years!

And the fight kept going. Mom would make her "Shut the fuck up!" faces at me, but I'd keep going.
It infuriates me, how easily others influence my father. I just can't stay quiet OR relaxed... especially not after all this crying I've been doing recently.

Maybe other people can have their parents on Facebook, but I sure as FUCK cannot. Dad gossips more than a fucking old woman... the moment he is introduced to Facebook, my world will end. There will be drama, he will tell people TOO much... and it's just... my dad's worse than Star Magazine. I give myself nightmares just thinking of the endless possibilities... I fucking start hyperventilating.

So...
Yeah... I'm still on the combative/aggressive trip (I have this gnarly cut on my right thumb because I was being a violent asshole yesterday morning as I was showering. I was looking for my bar of soap and I gripped my razor as if it were Play-Doh. That's when this barbarian learned she had to take it down a notch).
And yes, it makes me fight with Pops... and it makes me an all-around unpleasant person to be around...
BUT there is somewhat of a silver-lining: I have been able to channel some of it into workouts.
I'm that girl in the corner, shooting you the "Don't fucking get ANYWHERE near me or I'll fucking BITE YOU" look, as I squat and deadlift heavier than anyone else in the room.

I'm convinced I was supposed to be a dude... a gay one... because I cry a lot and I like dudes.

I'm going to bed now, before I toss this laptop across the room and get my ass beat by my exponentially-more-aggressive mother.