Thursday, March 03, 2005

Time to rant. Again. (honestly, today was actually going fine until I left work).

Remember how a few weeks ago I spent a whole weekend (and now I'm working full time I really hate using my weekends for anything except sleeping and reading junk) rearranging my study so a certain brother could use the internet in his studio and not in here? Especially since he's got a new computer which should be able to handle the connection. Well, he doesn't want the internet on his new computer, because it might mess it up. Instead he uses this one, and complains about it constantly.

Then Dad said he couldn't get a wireless signal from his office. From the office, I asked, or anywhere in the house? It's the wireless card, he said, it's broken. So he's been plugging into my computer. Ever tried to write a fucking novel with your dad in the room? Thought not.

When I finally exploded and had a go at them both today, Dad told me it was my fault for moving the modem because it worked in the rest of the house. So apparently it's not his wireless card. Which he doesn't seem in any hurry to get fixed. And Richard is still a selfish arse who won't connect his new computer to the internet. He says he'll do it on the old one but that will need the modem plugged in, not a wireless card. Why don't we move the internet down there, he says? Like fuck we will. I use this thing constantly - or at least I bloody would if someone else wasn't using it all the time instead. It's now ten past six and I've been home for two hours - I've only just got online, and that was after I threw a hissy fit the likes of which haven't been seen since I was about two.

And now I'm being told that my reasons for wanting my computer to myself- which I bought for me with my own fucking money - are stupid! I replied that Richard seems to think everything I've said to him in the last 23 years is stupid. He said yes, more or less.

So he can rot in hell. One more thing - and I mean fucking anything - to piss me off, and I'm taking his username off the computer and password protecting my account. He's got TWO FUCKING COMPUTERS in his studio, he can use one of them. And, I seem to recall, one of them (the 'old, crappy one') was my eighteenth birthday present.

So fed up of being treated like a petulant child. I am tired. I've been working all day, I get up early, and in case anyone had failed to notice, my life's ambition isn't to work in a flour mill, it's to be a fucking novelist! And that's not so bloody easy when I can't use my own sodding computer! And when I get to it I'm in this kind of mood, which isn't suitable for writing a goddamned thing.

Rant over. Normal service will resume tomorrow. Unless certain people are still being so bloody unreasonable, in which case more ranting will - eventually - follow.

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