I hate how much of a build up new years is. Why does it have to be the best night of the year? I don’t think I have ever had a decent New Years, ever. There is always some incident, one year a girl was bottled right in front of me. I spent the whole night and the fireworks in the first aid tent with a complete stranger, because no one seemed to know who she was. Another year, my friends brother did not get the hint or the million times I had told him I was not interested and tried to grind up on me and just smother me with his presence. Every time I danced he would try and dance near me and around me. I am sure you are thinking these aren’t that bad, but every year I have been able to go out and drink on new years I can give you an example of how expectation never, ever meets reality. I am sure none of you could even predict the endings for most of my new years, well other then the extreme disappointment of course. I worry this new years will be the same. I have decided to go camping and I am hoping being away from the city will prevent such outcomes.
Have you ever had a terrible new years? If so, please tell me about it, I want to know I am not the only one.
I just got off the phone to my boyfriend and we were talking about various things and we were talking about my housemates. – This being a common subject, because I live with a dysfunctional couple and the things they do sometimes astound everyone.
We were talking how another friend of theirs has moved into the house and he has no concept of the term inside voice. I am unsure how long he will be here and not being here much longer I do not want to create waves, I am sure you can understand why. (not worth the drama this late in the renting game)
I was explaining a scenario in which our new house mate spoke to another from the hallway at 11:30 the other night, loudly and rudely with no concept for people sleeping. I thought about saying something, but by the time I mustered the courage he was back in his room.
I was telling my boyfriend this obviously to have a whinge and just explain the situation, but him being the guy that only sees everything in black and white could not understand why I did not just tell him off then and there. He said that instead of whinging to him about such things that I should go directly to the source. He actually referred me to an acquaintance that does this often, but she creates waves and drama on purpose. At the moment I just feel very offended and frustrated at the whole conversation and I don’t know how to explain to him, why it has bothered me so much. In all honesty, it was probably the whole conversation, he must be tired. (see here I go making excuses for him) I just wish sometimes he came with a bit more empathy. *sigh
So on Thursday night, it was a good friend of mines birthday. We went out for dinner and drinks, all the people she thought were going to show didn’t and she did her usual thing were she sits with what ever guy shows up and sits next to them. Anyways, I don’t think she has any particular interest in this guy, honestly I think its the attention she gets from the guy. Every man I know that meets her, falls head over heels with her. It isn’t a gradual thing its full blown, I will do anything this gal asks of me. Lately I have been noticing it more then often, purely because at Christmas time she seems to need this attention more, why? I am unsure.She is a deep soul, with a lot of torments that eat her. These “men” will try and be deep around her, it ends up feeling like you are stuck in a constant Tumblr loop. It’s so irritating. They will say things like “I wish I could pack up everything and move and live off the earth” “talks about what ever star sign they are” and “you should live everyday to the fullest *insert which ever example they require to refer to my friend” The weirdest thing is, most of these guys don’t realise she isn’t interested. They keep trying to buy her things and take her out in the hoops it will amount to something. We have told so many guys over the years that she isn’t interested and they just think its a game.
“It all comes back. Perhaps it is difficult to see the value in having one’s self back in that kind of mood, but I do see it; I think we are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind’s door at 4 a.m. of a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends. We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget. We forget the loves and the betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and what we screamed, forget who we were. I have already lost touch with a couple of people I used to be; one of them, a seventeen-year-old, presents little threat, although it would be of some interest to me to know again what it feels like to sit on a river levee drinking vodka-and-orange-juice and listening to Les Paul and Mary Ford and their echoes sing “How High the Moon” on the car radio. (You see I still have the scenes, but I no longer perceive myself among those present, no longer could ever improvise the dialogue.) The other one, a twenty-three-year-old, bothers me more. She was always a good deal of trouble, and I suspect she will reappear when I least want to see her, skirts too long, shy to the point of aggravation, always the injured party, full of recriminations and little hurts and stories I do not want to hear again, at once saddening me and angering me with her vulnerability and ignorance, an apparition all the more insistent for being so long banished.
It is a good idea, then, to keep in touch, and I suppose that keeping in touch is what notebooks are all about. And we are all on our own when it comes to keeping those lines open to ourselves: your notebook will never help me, nor mine you.”
― Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem
Today, I am distracted by day dreams. I am dreaming that I will find a job before I move into state, preferably before February. That my boyfriend and I, will live in a big house, with a dog. A chow, chow to be precise. His name will be Warlock and he will be a wonderful and magical friend.
I dream that we will be unimaginably happy and I will feel so loved. We will see each other constantly and won’t have to be on the phone all day. We will drink lots of tea and wine and consume dangerous amounts of cheese and deli meats.
These sorts of dreams keep me going, when at the moment my work is so boring and mundane, my household is poisonous, my housemates are a couple who expired a long time ago and still not willing to admit it to each other or more importantly to themselves. She, especially has commented the time they have spent together as the key factor she cant go. But her best friend said to me it is more the fact that she has a free ride here and she just wants someone to care for her, so she doesn’t have to.
So please excuse me today, If I seem a little off. I am dreaming of bigger and better things.
I am currently one of six siblings. We aren’t all what you would call “full blood” siblings. My mother only had my sister and I. However, my father left my mother when I was very young and was married to woman who already had a son, who was two years older then me and my dad and my step mum had three children together over the course of my life.
During this time, my step-mum had let us into her house with open arms, she was nice to a certain extent. The older I got the less and less I saw my dad, I always sensed this feeling that she was jealous of me. I know that every kid probably feels that way when they are their dads first born, but it began to seem like she was always trying to undermine me and get me in trouble for ridiculous things. Keeping in mind, at this time I was five. Five. She was 24, she blames it on young age now days, but honestly I am not that much older and no way would I attempt to compare myself to a child. In saying all this, her son, the one that was two years older then me was the most grotesque,spoiled, horrible brat of a person I have ever met. He would torture me for hours and she would allow him to and by torture I mean hit me and hurt me until I was crying and if I retaliated or fought back she would tell my dad that I had started it and my dad no matter how many times I told the truth, he just wouldn’t believe me. Eventually, I related anything to do with my dad to those experiences and was happy to never see him again. So, I went to living with my mum and sister and although this wasn’t a walk in the park, as my mother had many issues. It was still a load nicer then being anywhere near my step-mum and her horrible child.
Then when I was 8 years old, my mum went to jail. One day, when I have the motivation to write what she did, I will. It honestly ruined my childhood. I was an adult as of that day and nothing I have been able to do has ever let me go back in time. My dad, being a truck driver heard on the radio what had happened. He wanting to be the “good” guy as everyone perceives him to be thought he would intervene. I had not seen my dad in two years, I had no clue we were intended to go into his care and the years of emotional and physical bullying I would have to endure. That day, my grandparents (my mums parents) fought to have me in their custody and the courts, having no idea about anything (seriously don’t even get me started on the thousands of times the justice system has failed me) I was sent to dads. At this time, my step-mum had two kids to my dad. So I was essentially going from being the oldest sibling to the second oldest sibling among four others. I was made to mother the other children day in and day out. My stepbrother is the most misogynistic pig. He would walk in on me while I was showering and comment on my body and chase me around the house with a knife. One time he held a knife to my throat and made me drink dish washing liquid. I told my dad because I had been violently vomiting for hours on end and he said I had an active imagination. My step-mum would blame all their money drama her own insecurities and pretty much anything she could on my sister and I. We were made to clean the house and ensure all the chores were done. She is the messiest woman I have ever met in my life. People say she is a hoarder, but it isn’t organised it isn’t collecting. It is just mess, she has so much mess. It is sheer laziness. My step-mum would also always buy her children these big and extravagant gifts and my sister and I would always get, I am too poor this week to get your gift I will get you one next week or it would be something that neither of us were interested in. I got out of that hell hole when I was 14 and I am so glad for it. I don’t know how I overcame it. I have very little to do with that family now, my stepbrother is still the biggest angel in my step-mums eyes.
I don’t care what anyone says, in my experience a step parent will never love you like they do their own children.