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Friday, 28 June 2013

Back from hiatus

It's been a while.

Of course, things I want to write about have been piling up. No easy way to go about it.

First and foremost on my mind is little too's sister. She ate plants that had been sprayed with poison and is very sick. Aunt MT blames herself, the poor dear. Three people failed to notice before an hour had gone by and the poison had started to kick in to take her to the vet. She's sedated. Attempting to wake her resulted in shaking and fever. It makes me cry. I don't know her, I've barely even seen pictures of her. But I know she's a sweet pup and I know she's well loved. I know she reminds me of my little one and I don't dare do any research online about the outcome of puppies that had a close encounter with poison because I fear the outlook is not a good one. Both my sister and I are sad about it. We asked mum to light a candle for her, may she be able to wake up tomorrow, somewhat restored, and get healthy with time. I have a bad hunch about this but my thoughts are with her. 

Unrelated, most likely, but I hope it's actually an indication of what might happen next: I had a dream a few days ago where I was told LC8 had unexpectedly died. It was quite the tragedy and mum told me to be careful about how I relayed the news, especially to LC8's youngest aunt. Before I was in a bad place where I had to say anything about it, the doctor informed LC8's mum that LC8 was, in fact, fine. Everyone was overjoyed.

Unrelated, definitely (except, maybe, for the way everything makes me want to cry): things have not gotten any better with aunt A. They're actually worse. How much worse? Aunt A got into a fight with mum. You might like to know why. You know how we've been planning my sister's stay here? Well, a fairly long while ago I gave cousin S the money to buy tickets and hotel reservations for a weekend out. A plan we'd been keen on for a long time. Well, the clock's ticking and he was no closer to buying the tickets. I've asked him at least twice over the last couple of weeks and all I got was a "I haven't bought them yet. We're trying to make our minds up about which hotel to stay in. We're totally doing it on one of the two weekends you told me about." So, no definite dates and no physical tickets. Now, we haven't been doing an awful lot. 

Aunt A will drop us off and leave us to our own devices (even if she's at the same place). If possible, she'll avoid having to take us places (leaving that to cousin I) with silly excuses, even when it's far more practical for her to drive us than him.  It's not so farfetched to say she's going out of her way to try to "punish" us. I haven't mentioned (why would I?) aunt A kept talking about how we'd go out shopping with my sister. This goes into the list of empty promises she made and helps prove my point about her horrible sense of hospitality. The only shopping we've done has been paid for with our money and the gift certificates I got for my birthday. Except for a new pair of sneakers, I've gotten nothing for myself. I want my sister to take as many gifts home as she can. I know I'm short on money and the summer job plan didn't work out (neither has the "volunteering for research with Pf2" plan), but my parents are living paycheck to paycheck (work not being exactly plentiful) and they still talk of somehow gathering money to send us if we're short. My sister and I, we're not wasteful. We got my parents presents. We're thinking of what to get aunt MT (I'm hoping we can afford a bottle of perfume). We've been eating as little as possible out, sharing our food, holding out until we're starving before we eat, buying only what we know is cheap. 

Aunt A gave my sister her "birthday gift," gave us money for a snack one day, for a cheap lunch another and enough for one lunch another. And coins to pay for the bus ride to university. Oh, and how could I forget the "new" incredibly oversized, crocodile skin print, bright green t-shirt for my sister that was taking up room in aunt A's closet? I know I'm leaving out the groceries she's bought to feed us and the extra energy and water used in the house when accounting for her hospitality, but we all know she could do better. I'm not asking for anything and neither is my sister. I don't expect anything and neither does my sister. I thought I could expect civility, at least for my sister, but I was proven wrong long ago. 

Let's stop this for a moment, I promise I have a point to make. Think of something for me, will you? When was the last time you did something for someone else, entirely for their benefit. expecting nothing in return? I'm willing to wager it's been a very long time for aunt A. My sister and I do it every day. 

Would you like to sleep longer even though we're both still very tired? 

I'll go shower first. How about some breakfast? 

Can I clean those for you? 

Here, let me help you with that. 

Go on, take the largest chip (we've both been eating the smaller ones, leaving the large one for the other to take). 

What do you want to do/eat? I'll do my part even if I'm not too excited about it. I want you to be happy.

Let me pay this time.

No, buy something for you.

I know it's hot in the bathroom. I tried to air it out a bit for you. 

Are you hot? Is it too sunny out? Here, take my sunglasses (or would you prefer the cap?).  Let me fan you a bit.

The nice people at a nearby restaurant will actually have food ready for me to come pick up and pay for (one must imagine I could forget to come and they could make a small loss... they trust me to come and pay just as I trust them to have the food ready). Yep1 wanted us to visit him and took time out of his schedule to help us look for cheap tickets. He's so eager to see us and sounded so happy. We told my parents and they pointed out that visiting Yep1 wouldn't cost that much less than making another trip we've long been trying to plan but couldn't really afford. Some research later, we decide we just might take the leap: we'll go on a trip. We (yes, both my sister and I) need time away from aunt A. Anticipating some backlash, mum thought she'd do the right thing and call aunt A to let her know we would go on the trip she'd earlier implied we were too poor to make and take advantage of.

Aunt A thought of excuses: won't I be busy working with Pf2? What's it to her? I can work from a distance, the way things are going (they're not exactly going, I haven't heard from Pf2 in weeks). Oh, but surely the dates we've been looking at are exactly the ones when we're supposed to be on the trip with cousin S and she had to call him right away because we either went on one trip or on the other. Quite inexplicably, cousin S seemed to side with aunt A and asked "What is there for them to do in [major tourist destination for oh-so-many-reasons]?" Mum was upset. Mum was upset. Mum's a saint. Aunt A hung up on her.

What about me and aunt A? Haven't I done anything nice for her expecting nothing in return? I painted her nails a couple of times when I'd just arrived. Aunt A offered my services and said "Oh, she likes it! Don't worry!" and... yes, sure, I like to play around with nail polish and other people's nails but aunt A made it sound like "Go on, let her do [chore]! She loves that!" Forget about it, maybe I'm blowing it out of proportion. Let's move on to other things. How about the way I clean stuff when I see it dirty? If it's the sink full of dishes aunt A and uncle A left there and I'm in the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, I'll wash it. Result? Aunt A from then on after expects me to always wash shit I find dirty and gets to start scenes like following:

1) Aunt A has one of her nightly cups of coffee and leaves the dirty cup in the sink (instead of, say, the washing machine she points out to me if I wash things by hand)
2) I come by the kitchen and remember there's a dirty pot from something my sister and I cooked earlier and decide to wash it.
3) Aunt A walks by the sink and finds her old dirty cup.
4) Rather than emptying it out and putting it in the washing machine, she felt it was necessary to come all the way to my room to tell me "You forgot a dirty cup, you know."
5) I tell her I'll get it so my sister doesn't have to get involved. I silently walk over to the kitchen, empty the cup and put it in the machine.
6) She's still waiting by my bedroom door when I get back and tells me not to fucking get angry. Because she's the victim and what's wrong with me?
7) It's all I can do to continue to say nothing.

Did we, perchance, cook? Did we use a knife? Did we leave it out while we eat to be washed later? The danger! We must certainly want her to drop the knife and for it to fall point first on her foot, possibly slashing her thighs on the way down (what do I know what goes through her mind?). Did we sleep late? Why-oh-why do we always stay in my room (not because it's the only ventilated room in the house that's too warm, of course), she could be dying in her room and we wouldn't notice! Are we where she thinks we're out of earshot? Then she'll talk shit behind our backs and imply all sorts of horrible things.

Sweet thing! No! Don't die! Please stay strong! We love you! Get healthy! Please live!

We're leaving. It's all but a sure thing. We only have to tell aunt A. And uncle A. And cousin S (we might need the money he hopefully hasn't spitefully used). And Yep1 (to tell him we're so very thankful and as soon as I have my own money I'll go visit him and CtThumbe, for sure).

As for those around here who say "Didn't linaThumbe plan anything? Why are they so bored? Why don't they leave the house?... have I failed to convey how much of a pain it is for aunt A that we be happy and how much of an inconvenience we are to her? I'm well aware of it and I'm still in a mostly non-confrontational mood. 

A fortune cookie from last Tuesday said this month would offer a great opportunity, and so it did. I'm taking advantage of it. Let it upset who it will. My parents are making a huge effort for us to have this opportunity, they're convinced it's a wonderful thing. My sister lights up thinking about it. I hate to be the one to tell her we probably can't do everything we're imagining but we'll do our best to enjoy every minute of it.

In the land of happy news, gay marriage has made a few breakthroughs since I last wrote and at least those tears are happy ones.

Oh, sweet dear! Stay alive, please do!

Saturday, 22 June 2013

Stolen from, stolen phone

I had a dream last night where my phone had been stolen by that awful 3rd grade teacher I had. I'd gotten a call from my then art teacher, who'd been suspended from school (on goodness knows what charges). He told me he'd paid to use my phone and when I asked who had it he told me her name. I asked him to please hold on to the phone and not give it back to her, to wait for me to come get it. I don't think he did. You see, the terrible teacher had already told me she had my phone and told me to call to get it back, except she didn't pick up. She was stealing it and pretending not to. I couldn't, however, completely rely on the art teacher. I remember making my way there, worried that he wouldn't still have the phone. I remember "hacking" (making a lucky guess at a four letter password... key word "ejes", with a j instead of a y) a pre-school computer, hoping to find information about the bad teacher there (with no luck). In another part of my dream I was at a party hosted by the morbidly obese girl I once went to school with (I'm sorry if that's a cruel description, I'm afraid it's also accurate and the only one I dare offer). Of that I just remember running up and down stairs, trying to find other girls invited. 

Sorry for being silent for so long, blog. I've had a bad case of the aunt A and it's been bad enough that I'm not even in the mood to write about it. Suffice it to say that what I told SmTn stays true: the alternate universe where I got to go home and my sister didn't come for these couple of month sounds like the better one of the universes. 

Sunday, 16 June 2013


Selfish much? Uncle A chose his father's day meal to be something aunt A has wanted for a while: x. It doesn't matter what x is, only that there are as many recipes are there are families that cook it and that aunt A believes there's a "true" recipe corresponding to this one time she had it. So, in spite of other any input from mum and recipes for what a lot of people might call x my sister and I found in cookbooks, she wanted to somehow emulate that one x. Problem? Uncle A is in a vegetarian vibe and won't (except begrudgingly) eat meat, a main ingredient in x. So, he asked that we make x mostly with vegetables (hardly x at all). Aunt A bargained for some meat and did whatever she wanted, adding nothing for flavour except onion, a few sprigs of coriander I convinced her would go nicely, and powdered chicken stock. Not even the vegetables most recipes (and, one might add, her precious chicken stock) depend on. Because she doesn't like vegetables and she wouldn't have her remembered x have any she didn't see. End result? I won't say it was bad, but it could have been better. 

Self-centred much? CtThumbe wrote back (after quite a while, I might add). She's back with her lifetime boyfriend and working on her thesis before she leaves. We might be able to arrange something to meet next semester. It would be lovely. While the back-with-boyfriend-only-f0r-a-few-months-and-while-very-busy could worry me, I know she's happy and that she's great at relationships and it will work out all right in the end. Except for the minor problem of how not-in-love with him she was last time, but that's for her to sort out and not really any of my business. The news made me think of LesMisGuy (who I'd been thinking of quite a lot lately, for no reason I can think of). In particular, hearing this about CtThumbe got this idea into my head that if she got back together with her ex then LesMisGuy and I could/should have been a couple and we could/should have worked out quite nicely. Except for one very not minor detail: I don't know how to be in a relationship. A good part of the reason why is that I've never been in one. I must be, frankly, a quite terrible girlfriend. A loving, caring, at-least-attempts-to-act-reasonable, more-than-willing-to-please, quirky girlfriend, but a terrible one nonetheless. I don't know how often to call, how to communicate, what to say, what to do, how to behave. What on Earth do I want with a boyfriend anyway? Why does it feel so imperative I should have one that I can't shake the thought of LesMisGuy off even now and in silent loneliness I call out love interest names when I know it all means precisely nothing?

That, dear blog, is a problem for another time. Now I should read what I have so far only pretended to have read so I don't make a fantastic fool out of myself talking to Pf2 tomorrow. 

Friday, 14 June 2013

New girl

I had a New Girl inspired dream, except Nick reminded me a lot of LesMisGuy (no surprises there). The dream was about Nick and Jess getting together (not so subtle there, eh?). Jess had been with some other guy while Nick watched from the sidelines. All that time, Nick had been only just the good friend the other guy could be a little jealous of, the good friend who had not been very subtle about how much he liked Jess. Jess (or me, as the case would be) knew about Nick's feelings for her early on but chose to ignore them at first. You might say Nick was only her second pick. Nevertheless, it looked like they could be quite happy together, but they had something important to sort out.

Thursday, 13 June 2013


Not so subtle, there, unconscious. I had two dreams this morning (yes, this morning, I distinctly remember having woken up and then trying to sleep some more). 

The first involved LesMisGuy or, more importantly, his parents. And mine. In my dream, it had happened several times already that my parents kept running into LesMisGuy's parents' suitcases (I don't know if this was at the airport but it seemed strange enough given how little my parents travel). I was asked to leave a message for LesMisGuy, who was home alone (from what I could gather) so he could get the suitcases. It was only supposed to be a message but when I got there it turned out LesMisGuy was there. It was a little awkward. I remember trying to pretend I was only there on business, doing as I was told. In the dream, he was supposed to know and understand how hard it was for me to act cooly. I nevertheless did my best to show our good intentions, as we'd put some of our own sheets down with their things in case they had no others. I remember seeing his room made a mess and maybe even offering to help make the beds. I'm not sure why, but it gave an impression of sadness on LesMisGuy's part, maybe related to his parents' absence, maybe not.

So much for that dream, the one I woke up to involved my sister being kidnapped by a wicked man. She'd even developed Stockholm syndrome. My family was all there, staying at his house (a very large one, one might add), and so was the token soap opera French man (for reasons I can't begin to explain). I was reading a very strange book. Not so much because of the story itself (it was a novel that felt very homely, and like I might have read it before though I surely haven't) but because of the format itself: the book wasn't so much a book as a square piece of cloth. The knitting showed words and when I folded the square in half and pulled or otherwise moved something, the words changed to reveal what was supposed to be in the next pages. So the book was all contained in this small piece of fabric. In my dream it was just a mechanical trick but I'm sure there had to be some sorcery to it. At any rate, the dream was not about the book. It was about me reading it while passing the time, waiting to catch a glimpse of my sister in the room she was kept locked up in. She was allowed out for a bit and I took my chance to tell her to let me help her escape. We'd apparently made plans (my family and I) to rescue her at a later date, but I would rather have her out as soon as possible. She agreed. We ran to my room, where I still had to pack my bags so we could leave. My sister was a bit obsessed with closing all doors shut when I left the room but, after a while, even though there were goons/servants walking around the house and they could see us, she stopped hiding. I worried that she wanted to get caught (did I mention Stockholm syndrome?). Nevertheless, it looked like only minor arrangements were necessary once my bags were not-so-neatly packed. That's when I woke up and I woke up worried, trying to at least imagine a scenario where we managed to get away so I could somehow give the dream a fake happy ending.

Monday, 10 June 2013

Oh, right... turns out there's a word for it

You know how I've mentioned earlier that if there's one thing that can make me break down it's when people actively show they don't care about me? Could be the guys who hit me on the head with a metal pole, could be the old woman who spoke of not giving me ice cream, could be EBF disappearing during a party I had no business in. Well, it turns out there's a word for it. The thing that angers me to the point of tears is selfishness. 

(This is where the post turns predictable)

Selfishness like aunt A's. And I dare you to prove me wrong, that's what it is. Why else should it be that, though she was out all morning and both my sister and I felt too warm and decided to turn down the temperature just the tiniest possible bit, it was still turned up remotely to its usual temperature? Energy saving my ass and don't you even start telling me she felt cold from a distance. Nonsense. NONSENSE! Uncle A kindly asked me to leave the temperature settings alone already, for aunt A's sake. Not because it's expensive, not because she feels cold (I was not even allowed to turn the temperature down at night, when they're both in their room away from all air conditioning, to sleep). This has nothing to do with her comfort. She breaks into a fury at the thought of me being marginally more comfortable, even when it has absolutely no effect on her! She bought a small fan thinking it would make things better. I've said it before and will say it again: she does not understand science. There's a big ceiling fan and it doesn't make it any cooler in the room because it can only move around the air which won't get any cooler unless the air conditioning makes it so. All it makes is noise and wind that moves in a different direction. I've left it on as "proof of gratitude" and I've given up on sleeping comfortably out of respect for uncle A and his attempt at an apologetic face that said "humour her, you and I both know she's out of her mind."

She's been furious with me all fucking day. I've only talked to her for strictly the necessary, avoiding all contact with her because it makes me fume and I've held back tears all bloody day which is hard enough having to get back to my sister every few minutes or so. My sister wanted to bake cupcakes, that she did. Would've gone wrong either way, but I talked her out of it. Had we made the cupcakes we wanted to (not apt for diabetics), aunt A would have had even more reasons to hate me with a fury. I would not have allowed for the nicety of baking sucrose-free cupcakes for her, and had I allowed it I'm sure there would have been some way for the gesture to go wrong. Fuck that. 

Nevertheless, we did cook today. We made something for lunch (enough for all four of us). Both uncle A and aunt A tried it. Uncle A said it was good, aunt A said nothing (I'm sure she didn't like it, goodness knows she's picky and uncle A was into it for healthy eating reasons mostly). Tonight aunt A came into my room offering baked potatoes, of the kind that come frozen. My sister and I went to the kitchen and helped ourselves to some without sitting down. Uncle A asked about what we'd cooked for lunch and asked if there was anything left over, I said there was and served some for him. Not much longer aunt A made an attempt at starting a scene with a venomous "You didn't offer me any, you know." I offered and she said she didn't want any. Didn't think so. I made to leave shortly after that and my sister didn't think to try to make anything better, she just followed me.

If she wants to play the bloody victim then fine, I'm sure that in her mind I'm an evil spoiled brat, doing everything I can to take advantage of her and aggravate her... by staying the fuck out of her way, refusing to ask anything of her and wanting to be comfortable at least when it has no consequence on her. I will admit to being proud and stubborn, dry and deliberately impassible but no one can take away my good reasons to think she's a selfish old hag and I don't care if it's mental illness and I should know better than to complain. She should know better than to question doctors' expertise and to avoid a proper diagnosis and treatment.

Makes me want to scream, shout and get the fuck out

What the fuck is it with her, anyway?

She's staying up extra late only to change back my cool-enough-to-sleep settings. She's supposed to be bloody asleep! She's in her room, where no air conditioning blows. She has no reason to feel cold. Next she'll say I'm just wasteful and a spoiled little brat. Well, you know what? I'm furious enough right now that I feel like throwing decorum and manners right out the window. It's not like aunt A is being half civilised to my sister anyway. I'd pick up my bags and leave. I would leave everything I didn't buy with my (or my parents') money. I wouldn't care if that left me penniless. I wouldn't care if there was a big fight. I wouldn't care if it gave her a heart attack, she'd deserve it because she's doing it completely out of spite and does it not make her despicable? She said "I'm sure you girls love aunt MT (more than me)" but... what would she expect? Here it took almost all week to get in touch with aunt MT to let her know I got her presents. She said no thanks were needed because she'd done it willingly, out of love and I know it to be true but it's all the more reason to want to thank her because she's so lovely, you know? Her inexpensive gestures mean the world to me because they're loving gestures and she'd never be one to point my faults so much as say "you'll do better next time." Where aunt A thinks she owns me, aunt MT expects nothing in return for her kindness. You tell me why I prefer her, why leaving here penniless would still be winning if I can see her sooner than later.

Saturday, 8 June 2013

Lies, lies!

What a way to ruin one's breakfast... Aunt A started a lecture about how I waste energy lowering the thermostat by as much as 0.5ºC (to leave it at a temperature greater than or equal to 25ºC, freezing cold by her standards). She decided to intimidate me today telling me it was uncle A who said we're to use the "green setting" on the thermostat. But I looked it up. The green setting does make you use less energy, compared to what you were using before. Which is to say, it will keep aiming for higher temperatures in the hot days until we get used to it. I'm sorry, stupid thermostat, but I just can't get used to temperatures above 25ºC. Most people can't. And it's not just me speaking like aunt A does when she complains that they should make more shoes for wide feet and more clothes for fat people and cars for short people because she thinks that her need justifies changing an industry that has normal curves to prove this demographic isn't as big as she claims. No. I've looked it up online and it's not just me. Because of the way your body works when you sleep, you really are more comfortable in a cooler environment at night. True for children especially, but true in general. She can sleep just fine in cooler temperatures. She just likes to complain about the cold that she feels and, thinking she's the norm, about the cold I don't feel because I'm abnormal. I just hated the lie, you know. That stupid intimidating, bullying attitude she thinks she has. All she did was make me angry. I thought of changing the settings to what the true green setting would be (not what she claims, actually higher) but if I do, then the thermostat will keep on increasing our threshold and I just. can't. take it. Also pissing me off? Yesterday she mentioned a trip to a museum my sister wants to visit again. Instead of saying it was lovely or whatever, she had to point out a deck of cards she bought there and lost. Except she didn't, because I'm positive we found them in my room looking for something else. So I pointed this out. She insisted in being wronged, so she lied and made up something about how those cards we found were different ones, a nonexistent gift from a nonexistent friend.

*Nazgûl shriek*

It's precisely this sort of thing that makes me wish I could just leave and have nothing to do with her nonsense. Even if it meant not having anywhere to go, or a reasonable source of income. You can't be paid enough to be bullied on a daily basis, damn it!

[midnight edit:]
Mum insisted I tell uncle A about the gifts they sent for him, so I headed to the kitchen and did just that. When I was done, after hesitating for a split second, I asked about the possibility of lowering the temperature in just my room. I had, by then, already spent quite a bit of time looking at portable air conditioning units, which would cost about as much as a new phone (an investment I'd readily make if I had the money to spare). I asked if I could lower the temperature by 0.5ºC. He said it was currently at a green setting, which it actually wasn't. Aunt A walked in then and there and she tried to push this point. I showed them that the true green setting would be a higher temperature. Aunt A tried to fight back and argue against this, saying that the perfectly fine 25ºC she was so desperate to change this morning showed as a green setting, not the higher temperature I pointed out was the new one. Why the change? I'd already researched it: the thermostat doesn't have a pre-set green setting other than 29ºC. It just remembers the temperatures you're used to and tries to push you to a warmer one with the promise of saving money. 

Not that I'm against saving money, like aunt A would too easily point out. I can think of several other ways energy, water and money are wasted in this household. I'm quite sure the change wouldn't have that big an impact given that I've programmed the thermostat several days ago now: starting at a time when I'm quite sure aunt A has already gone to sleep, I set it to 24.4ºC (which, you'll notice isn't that low). It remains that way until the time when aunt A is waking up, when it goes up to 25ºC. Around the time when she usually sits down to sleep in front of the telly, it goes up to 25.6ºC. I wouldn't call my changes drastic, nor particularly wasteful. But the marginally lower temperature at night helps me make it through the night. 

At any rate, I lowered the temperature again to a more comfortable 25ºC (the scandal and blistering cold that is, though by aunt A's own admission it was what she claimed was a green setting). To prove she's absolutely not an ogre, she burst into my room asking why on Earth I had to go telling on her with uncle A. I told no lies and there I rest easy. My first inquiry was for a way to make it cooler in my room (a solution I hoped would be along the lines of closing one of the living room vents). I then only requested a marginal change in temperature pointing out this morning's incident where she was so adamant to feel cold at 25ºC. She then said I needed not say that she'd turned the temperature to the true green one and I said that's not what I said. She said she needed not be cold just because I was hot, that I'm abnormal and should not cover myself to sleep, so it's absolutely my fault I'm warm and not the bloody temperature. (I won't be the one to explain the dynamics of body temperature changes during sleep and it's none of her business how I do or don't cover myself up when I sleep, thankyouverymuch). She was fuming. So was I but in the back of my head was this thought: the whole reason she was mad was because I told on her as the liar that she is. If she hadn't lied she wouldn't have felt guilty being told on, and she would have had nothing to be angry about. Go on. Try to argue against that. Maybe she does feel cold and I'm being cruel, but do consider I'm already compromising. A truly comfortable temperature for me lies around 23ºC... the temperatures most self-respecting restaurants/shops/cinemas/classrooms/gyms/shopping centres with air conditioning stick to. I'm begging for 25ºC and a tiny bit less than that to sleep in. It's actually cooler outside at night (except I can't leave the windows open all the way into morning or it will actually get too warm in my room). 

When she dropped my sister and me off at the cinema she didn't come out right away because it was raining. I wasn't counting on aunt A for anything, so I paid for the tickets. She pretended to act surprised that I'd paid for them and offered half what they cost (one might say she only meant to pay for my sister's ticket) for us to get something to eat. We made a stop where my sister bought herself a new pair of pants (on sale) but we didn't actually eat or drink a thing until we got back. Because we're so money conscious. My sister pointed out nice things for me to get, but I insisted we needed not look. If we're buying anything it had better be for her and the people back home. 


Back home...

If it weren't for the fact that it would be a very incredibly selfish thing to do, I do so wish I could run off. I wish I could have spent all of these vacations home. I would have had the chance to see SmTn, I could have gone to summer school, I could have run away from the heat, I could have run away from aunt A, I could have felt at home, if only for a few months. I haven't found a job. I haven't made any money since I got here. If anything, I've only wasted everything spent on me because I've made nothing in return. I might have been earning a very humble living had I stayed home and somehow made it into the master's programme for maths. Ah, but I'm supposed to make more money in the long run, after goodness knows how much more has to be invested. Well, the way things are now (and I know I haven't exactly been making things easier for myself because I've done nothing to attach myself to anything) I can't say it feels like it's worth it. Attempts at making friends lead to superficial interactions that make me question even the way I greet people and how to answer a silly text message asking if I'd like to go out. Tango lessons are a nightmare while I don't have a car and don't let me get started on that. Even just sitting here in my room is somehow a burden for aunt A and damn it if I don't feel like one, the way she always plays the victim. Let me find a summer job so I can feel marginally less useless! Let me find a summer job so I can afford a trip with my sister, the trip the old man so insists we should take though we can't afford it. The trip I precisely couldn't easily take if I had a job, but, you know, a trip! Away! I'd switch it for a trip to aunt LM's for a weekend and still feel happy about it. I'd switch it for a portable air conditioning unit and feel happy about it. 

You know what bothers me the most? This anger that boils up and makes me want to cry (a desire made worse by the fact that my sister's sleeping in my room) used to be quite alien. Feeling this way as often as once every too months would have been unheard of. Imagine that!

Wednesday, 5 June 2013

"Hopeless" in "romantic"

Oh, for the love of... 

Of course! The soap opera!

Even a good one's terrible, dears. Even one with good, reasonably human characters. Even one that tries to use proper grammar (and fails spectacularly... especially because it failed spectacularly). You see, the male lead is awful, and I do mean awful. It's bad enough that the soap opera has replaced daydreaming, that it makes me think of LesMisGuy and SmTn and wonder (only to reject the idea immediately, of course) if there's a parallel somewhere (of course there isn't, do I need to say it?). It's the fact that the idea of happiness offered by the storyline is exactly what anyone reasonable would label as "misery." You don't want the love of your life to be someone with clear anger management and drinking problems. Why would anyone ditch a fairy tale prince, one who's polite and sweet, who's interested in women for who they are, who has no problem expressing his feelings, who has one's best interests in mind? Why would one's best friends be such foolish harpies, always (safe one) so willing to give bad advice? It's just all wrong! Why is the reasonable chance at achieving happiness, one properly depicted as such, turned down? Why?! Why are we trading the happiness of the lead for the selfish happiness of everyone else, pretending this makes a happy ending? You know your dreams are dead when you have to borrow daydreams from a soap opera. You know no dreams, even awful, borrowed ones, have any chance of working out when you've sunk this low. I know where the story is going. And I don't want it to turn out that way so I'm hesitant to go on watching. I've stopped watching. I will not sit and watch as a drunken tantrum leads to a fake happy ending.

Here's the problem: soap operas defend the idea that being with the person you fell in love with, at all costs, is always worth it. Even when you love the wrong person and, in this particular case, especially if you do. I know you suffer when you're in love, but happy endings in love need not be so depressing if you think about them a little too hard. Happy endings should be happy the more you think about them. Happy endings... deserve their names being honoured.

It's late. I should go. So much for romance, so much for hope, so much for dreams, for LesMisGuy and the ever-more-distant-though-I-can't-stop-thinking-of-his-birthday-present SmTn. 


Monday, 3 June 2013


I lost my middle finger in my dreams last night. It just snapped right off, without even bleeding much. I'm no longer sure whether it was the left or right hand, but I know it was the middle finger. It's a little confusing, it started with Mgrt being here and me messing around with lipsticks. I ended up dropping one in the bin, and then another. One of them I was willing to rescue, not so the other, and she was somehow responsible for how I dropped them or how they got dirty in the bin. I'm no longer sure. I was trying to mend the lighter one of the two, a pale peach one, and I turned it so it was all out. While I did something else it became warm and softened. Next thing I know, I had lost the middle finger on one of my hands. I know I just snapped it off, quite suddenly, and that it was painful but amazingly less so than you'd imagine. It was also not bloody at all. I just remember worrying about losing the finger, about it getting too warm and rotting or cold. I worried about how I was going to stick it back on, whether it was possible or not because the end was so jagged. I realised I could hold it in place and a tremor and electric shock would go through my hand, making all of my fingers twitch. The broken one still reacted and I hoped that if I was able to hold it in place long enough it would somehow heal. I worried, however, because the twitching made the finger move, and it was hard to adjust and keep in place. The feeling of a half dead finger and the desperation of hoping not to lose it was a horrible one to wake up to. No match to aunt A's insufferable mood, though. No excuse, even if her friend has cancer. She has no right to be such a pain.