Why it is that when I sit here in this place, I come with no ideas to write about. I sit here in this shop because my dad has finally moved his office out to his shop. By doing so, he has moved the computer out with him. I look around and what's there? Tons of empty cigarette packs and millions more sucked dried beer cans. and it. What's it, you ask? The stupid thing that might allow me to go to college. It sits there looking nice, sleek, and attractive. I do agree it is all of those things, but I look at and see nothing. I mean this thing is worth at least $50,000. What's this thing? A red Ford Thunderbird. I mean all of my life money has been spent on his addictions and cravings. I mean I could be rich off the money he's spent on beer and cigarettes. The man's basically paying for his quickened death. What makes me even sicker is that I don't do anything to stop him. I don't know. I wish he would stop. I really do.