Notso Darling Moment

The title of this entry can be attributed to the fact I've been drowing myself in the Jessica Darling series. I'm re-reading them and re-falling in love with the characters but that's besides the point. Tonight was an epic fail. For a couple weeks, my friend and I have had plans for me to visit her at school for their three day late Cinco de Drinko party. It was going to be all kinds of intoxicated fun, not to mention I was going to be with my g.f Ally but what do you know, as I am in route to get the chasers for our bacardi, my car decides to decelerate all by its self. I luckily forced all 900 tons of my ancient automobile to a parking lot infront of the Kendall Park post office. I had to con triple A to send a tow truck for free because I maxed out all my free calls, only to have my mom tell me afterwards she wouldn't a) lend me her car and b) take me to the train station. So naturally, I was bummed out and I was pouting. Yet, leave it to my mother to make it about herself and act like she's the victim and her daughters are assholes. She's currently in her room, door shut which means no visitors.

Here's what bothers me: I'm 19 years old and as a teenager, it's in my nature to pout when things don't go my way. Why am I being deprived of my only privilege? Why is she making me feel like a brat when I have every right to be a little less than happy? She is making me feel bad about HER and HER mood when my misery had nothing to do with her, per say. It's making me think about how much of my time I spend complaining and how much I pout when things don't go my way. Is blaming it on my teenage youth a valid excuse? I was collecting my thoughts on the way home from dinner tonight (the subsitute to my Drexel fiesta) and thought of all the times I got upset because things didn't work out. Okay, actually, the only example that sticks out is when I was in 8th grade, I was supposed to go to one of the dances when my aunt died. I cried the whole night, not because of my aunt, but because I missed a chance to go to a school dance with a boy who had a unibrow and later grew up to discover a weight room and walk around like he owned the halls of SBHS. No names are necessary. I just don't understand why my mom can't wave off my raging emotions without making me feel even worse because she parades around like her feelings are hurt. Am I just too self-absorbed to see that I'm an asshole or what?