rant I suppose

The glow of the future always seems to be darkened by an unfourtunate idea of love. My father and I have intensely different ideas of what is best for me. No help does he offer, only criticism and anger.
I've been beyond frustrated in my efforts to get him to help me plan this trip, flying standby is no fucking cake-walk. As usual I will be stuck sneaking. This is so trivial.

Yack. blah. won-won-won.

On other notes. I gotta dollar I gotta dollar I gotta a dollar hey hey hey hey!