This is one unhappy diva…

I realize that I am incredibly lucky to be able to go on trips with my family every couple years. I know that there are many people out there who can’t afford to go on trips, and I am very grateful for my lot in life.

But there are times where I get so freaking (substituted from a more colourful term…) frustrated with my family that I just do not want to face them — at all.

Dad, can you please explain to me why you tend to ignore just about every grievance that I have? I tell you that I have two exams around the time of our potential trip. I tell you to let me know when you figure out a date so I can make sure it works. And what do you do? You go ahead and book the stupid tickets in the middle of the day, right when I would be taking exam number one, and the day before exam number two. So now I have to move two mid-terms around to accommodate you, when you promised me that you would help me out. Do you have any idea how hard it is to convince professors to let you take tests at a different time? Do you have any idea how near impossible it is going to be to move around MIDTERMS?! And I have to move around two! Seriously, what the in the seven layers of freaking hell is wrong with you?!

Oh and you’re upset with me? Because you were stupid and didn’t purchase cancellation insurance. So basically, you have just delivered me an ultimatum — family trip? Or exams? Well thank you so very much. I really appreciate the love and support I get for my education.

And does it really make me that bad of a person if I do not want to waste spend the majority of my time on a trip shopping with you, dear older sister? I realize that you love clothes — they are literally spilling out of your closet! But, unlike you, I get by with my clothes and do not have the gluttonous desire for more.

Do you realize how I absolutely hate how you make every single, solitary trip about what you want to do, or how you weren’t able to do you really want to do. Hey, do you remember that one trip where all I wanted to see was "La Cage Aux Folles"? Yeah, and do you remember how we never had the chance to get anywhere near it, because you had to see all the stores on 5th Avenue. You know, the ones that all look the same, with the same snooty people, and the price tags that cost more than the plane tickets? And yet you still felt disappointed that we couldn’t spend a day shopping down Greenwich Village. Doesn’t matter that we spent a day on 5th Avenue, a day shopping in Chelsea, or a day shopping in the Meat Packing District, you couldn’t monopolize every single second of the trip, so it was – of course! – a failure.

Yes, I am complaining like a spoiled seven-year old whose ice cream slid off the cone. But you know what? I could really care less. At least I can admit my faults, unlike you two, who just don’t see what’s wrong with looking out for Number 1. Doesn’t matter if I screw any one else over, I did what I had to do. So it’s justified, right?

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to e-mail my professors and start this lovely game of tug-of-war that you forced me into, Dad. Maybe that stubbornness I inherited from you may actually come in handy…