Friday, June 27
If you've been paying close attention to my posts recently, you might have noticed that I've been having a few problems with my parents over the last couple of weeks since I've been back from uni. This evening it came to a hilt, yet again. My Mum had disappeared for most of the day (turns out she was at her Dad's house), and my Dad's face had been tripping him up all day. I thought that for once it wasn't because of me, since I'd worked last night, and had barely seen any of my family for the entire day. But no, I got an earful too. AGAIN.
We were sat eating dinner outside (nice evening), and everybody apart from me had finished. I seem to have become a slow eater recently. It had been pretty much silent for the entire meal, atmosphere you could cut with a knife and all that. Eventually my Mum piped up and did the whole "well, whilst we're all here, I want to say something to all of you" thing. You could almost hear the internal groans from the rest of us. Whenever my Mum gets pissed off with us, the same old "talk" is given. I'll detail some of her favourite topics later. She started by saying that we were all pissing her off, in different ways. My Dad got off relatively lightly, with work being his excuse at the moment.
I took the brunt of most of her bitching, starting off with the favourite topic of the car. Apparently, "not once had I apologised or offered to pay at least something towards the cost of the repairs, etc." Excuse me, I was full of apologies when I first rang my Mum up to tell her what had happened, and later that week, when I rang up about finding a house and spoke to my Dad, I was apologetic again. The reason why I haven't offered to pay for repairs? That'd be because I was TOLD during the very first phone call, and at every opportunity since, that I was going to have to pay a fair bit of the costs. I didn't complain about this, because I knew that the accident was my fault and that I was going to have to pay something anyway.
However, when I pointed this out to my Mum, once she'd finished ranting (more of which in a bit), she said that this was the sort of smart-arse answer that I always give. How the fuck can that be right? She has told me loads of times that I was going to pay for the repairs, so why should I have to waste my time and energy offering to do something which I was already going to do already? She claimed that her orders for me to pay were said in the heat of the moment. Yeah, the heat of the moment, then repeated about 50 times since whilst perfectly calm. She does my fucking head in when she is completely hypocritical / stubborn like that. I guess that's where I get it from.
After this, I could see that I wasn't going to get anywhere, no matter what I said, so I upped and left. Which is why I find myself sitting in front of my computer, ruining my hearing with a pair of ultra-loud headphones on, typing onto a screen everything which I wish I could say to my Mum in real life. As a slight aside, my computer's speciality is picking out mp3s to suit my mood. I always just stick MusicMatch on random, but it always seems to pick the first 5 tunes to match exactly how I'm feeling. Right now, it's playing a load of very uptempo, aggressive dance tunes, which is just what I need. I love you computer. Edit: Cochise by Audioslave has just come on. It's as if my computer could sense what I'm trying to do. Check the lyrics of the chorus: "Go on and save yourself, take it out on me. Go on and save yourself, take it out on me." Spookily coincidental
Continued below, stupid Blogger reckons that this is too long for one post...
Anyway, there were a few other things my Mum was moaning about, the same things that she always moans about every time she gives us one of her "talks." They are, in no particular order: me and my sister don't do enough around the house to help; we treat her as if she's stupid; we never appreciate the things we have; we're always asking for more; the fact that my Mum "never had half the things we have when she was young" (my personal favourite that one); and the fact that I treat this house "like a hotel."
As I said in an earlier post sometime, I've reached saturation point with these topics. They no longer register except to make me more and more pissed off with the whole sequence of events. Let's pick apart these points one-by-one, starting with my favourite one, that I have it a whole lot better than she did when she was young. This one is always, always being brought up, usually preceded by the words "I know I say this a lot, but..." This time we had some new information. Apparently, my Grandparents were so poor / not well-off that when the fashionable socks to wear at school were from Marks & Spencers, my Mum had to go without because my grandparents thought that M&S was too expensive. I hadn't heard this one before. Nowadays, she continued, we (me and my sister) won't wear anything without a brand name on it, and will deliberately pick expensive items over cheaper ones.
I perhaps should point out here that my family is fairly well off, because my Dad has a pretty well-paid job at the moment, and has done for a fair few years. My Mum is the perfect hypocrite here, because she is the one who adores shopping, and thinks nothing of spending a whole load of money on one or two items. In my view, she is trying to make up for the (deprived?) childhood she had by being very materialistic now she can afford to be. Then she berates my sister especially for wanting a pair of £75 Nike (boo!) trainers rather than another pair for £35. Hypocrisy is the lowest common denominator for every person alive. For me, brand names aren't particularly important. I was never one of those kids who refused to wear something if it wasn't (e.g) Nike or Reebok. I'm still that way now, quite happy buying own-brand jeans or whatever from a shop like Burtons or Topman rather than paying a stupid amount for a pair of Levis. The problem with being anti-brands is that whether you like the brands themselves or not, the actual clothing they sell is good quality. Nike trainers are infinitely better than Hi-Tec trainers; FCUK t-shirts are better than Burtons', and so on and so forth. In this way, I'm quite happy to pay big money every once in a while for a quality piece of clothing, but generally I choose to wear crappy, no-name clothes.
The reason why me, my sister and my generation have it better than my parents did is precisely because they had it so (yeah, right) bad. They want us to have a better time of it than they did, and they way to express this is through buying us whatever we want, because they know how they felt when this was refused to them. I'm no psychologist, but is this some sort of guilt transferrence? Maybe my generation is naturally greedy, maybe we are naturally always wanting more. However, maybe we are this way because we know no different. We have generally had it good because our parents' generation want to distance themselves so much from the generation that they grew up as. In a capitalist, materialistic world, the best way to show this is to buy their children whatever they wanted. I offer no solution to this position we find ourselves in, nor attempt to justify it, but I merely question why the older generation have done this, then complain about what they have created / initiated. The creation turning against its master?
The final little thing I want to discuss is the way in which my Mum thinks we regard her as stupid. She isn't stupid, that's obvious, but she maybe isn't as intelligent as my Dad or myself. Excuse me whilst I go deflate my ego a bit... Anyway, she always says things which seem really, really stupid to me in particular, which we bring up time and time again (just like her talk topics, in fact), just to have a laugh at. She doesn't talk in a particularly educated manner (nor do I, to be honest), and she gets her words mixed up every so often. It's just a bit of a laugh when we make light of it. She needs some thicker skin. I've coped for the past 3 or 4 years with being accused of being gay just because I never have any success with women. It doesn't bother me, I just laugh it off, and sometimes live up to the comments by acting overtly camp. It's all one big joke, my friends who rib me about it know that I'm not gay, in the same way my family know that my Mum isn't stupid.
This turned out to be a bit of a long post, so well done for getting this far if you have. My family, the same as everybody else's on the planet.
Thursday, June 26
Fit Or Fat?
What with my work last night getting cancelled (see below), I decided to play a spot of tennis. I always do this when Wimbledon is on the TV, but I haven't played for a couple of years, not that I was particularly brilliant anyway. I rang a mate of mine, and we drove to our old school to use their courts, free of charge of course. It was quite a good knock-around, good fun. He whipped me 6-0 6-0 6-0, but like I said, I was a little rusty. I was getting back into the swing of things by the end, sending down a few good serves and returns. My new favourite sport for the summer has been found.
Whilst we were playing, Mace's mobile rang, Dan asking him if he wanted to go swimming for an hour or so. We dropped off our tennis stuff at home, grabbed a towel and some swimming shorts, and hot-footed it down to the local pool. Again, I hadn't swam for a while, but I managed 12 lengths (33m pool) before the others decided to laze around in the jacuzzi for a bit. I would have liked to have done a few more lengths, but such is peer pressure. A good little workout, nonetheless.
After that, we popped to the pub, but seeing as we had very little cash between us, it was only for a soft drink. Booo, drinking non-alocholic drinks in a pub. At least I had an excuse in that I was driving. On the way home, Mace suggested that I join the gym at my local sports centre. I've got a few mates who work there, so I could probably get it on the cheap, but it's only £14.99 for a month anyway. A few of my mates go, as do my parents. I'll have to see how my finances are doing in the coming weeks, but it's an idea. I need to get a little bit fitter generally, and I also want to tone up my upper body a bit. It's looking a little (!) slack at the moment.
After saying all of this, I'm just out now to pick up a kebab for my dinner. I have no willpower.
I've been a busy busy bunny the past couple of days, so this post could be fairly long. I might split it up into different parts if I can be at all bothered to keep up with the incredible wit which goes into the titles of each post...
Firstly, the site itself. I've done a couple of minor cosmetic changes to a few pages, just to get the look of the whole site consistent down to the last detail. Anally retentive? Me? Never. This has included uploading altered pages for my Bio, Lists, Music, Photos and also the entirely new Literature page. I figured "Literature" sounded better than "Books." I might put up a Creativity page with a few pieces of writing on it, but I need to write them first...
What else? Oh yeah, I've sort of got me a job. The employment agency I signed on with finally found me a place to work. They stitched me up yesterday, by ringing me about an hour before I was about to go to this place to work to tell me that I wasn't needed. Grrr. Oh well, at least this place I'm going to tonight is fairly easy work, so long as it hasn't changed dramatically in the year or so since I was last there. It's easy work, because all you do is push a trolley around a warehouse full of office supplies, picking items off the shelves according to what is on your order sheet. The only problem might be staying awake for the entirety of a shift going from 8pm till 5.30am... Driving home afterwards should be fun too...
I guess this means missing out on a night out tonight, but so be it. I need to earn some money rather than spending it. But double vodkas are only £1 tonight! It tends to get messy when I'm out with the boys on a Thursday night. That'll just mean I'm knackered tomorrow rather than knackered AND hungover. Result.
My parents are moaning at me AGAIN. They're moaning at each other too, which makes me feel a little better... At least going out to work tonight should shut them up a bit.
Tuesday, June 24
I love it how going out for a walk with my dog can clear my mind and relax me completely. I put my CD player on, put his lead on him and just switch off from the world for a while. Except when crossing roads, obviously. The little village / estate I live in is cool for this. I live on the outskirts of a town, with one direction being fields as far as the eye can see. The estate itself is quite open, and most of the streets are tree-lined on both sides. This evening was a really pleasant evening too, one of those cloudless summer evenings that just makes everybody feel totally relaxed.
More good stuff was the new Radiohead album on my CD player. "Hail To The Thief" is a work of genius, a truly brilliant album. One slight criticism is that a couple of tunes are really similar to a few earlier Radiohead tracks. I reckon that 'The Gloaming' sounds a hell of a lot like 'Idioteque' from Kid A. It's the muffled beats accompanied by random clicking-type noises that makes me think that. One of the early tracks, I can't remember which, also reminds me of 'National Anthem,' also from Kid A. These are but minor problems, the album as a whole is fantastic.
Stolen unashamedly from Orgasm Addict:
I am not: someone who keeps too many secrets.
I hurt: myself by not doing anything when something needs to be done.
I love: to be with people
I hate: being alone
I fear: being alone
I forget: to tell people how much they mean to me
I remember: everything that isn't important
I imagine: how it would feel to be loved
I hope: that someday I will be able to walk with my head up.
I crave: acceptance
I regret: nothing and everything at the same time.
I care: for those who want me to.
I always: feel that I could have done better.
I want: to know how it feels to be alone with somebody who loves me.
I feel alone: because I am.
I listen: only when I'm not talking.
I hide: my feelings from other people.
I pretend: to myself that I am enjoying life.
I drive: too fast
I sing: badly
I cry: when the moment requires it.
I destroy: my hope in the world around me.
I dance: when drunk.
I write: because I get easily opinionated.
I wake: slowly.
I breathe: the sweet smell of failure.
I play: with other people's arguments.
I venture: my opinion too often
I find: the most beautiful things in the strangest places.
I pray: never.
I miss: my life.
I kiss: badly?
I succeed: when I don't fail.
I search: for a reason to keep on searching.
I learn: something new every day
I feel: like I am the only person in the world who is going through a shit period in their life.
I know: what constant loneliness can feel like.
I joke: because if I didn't then I would cry.
I say: whatever it is I'm thinking.
I change: my opinions of people too easily.
I fail: because I can't be bothered.
I dream: when awake and asleep.
I believe: that there is nothing after death.
I wonder: whether I will ever find somebody who will in fact want to be with me.
I want: someone.
I worry: constantly.
I fight: inner demons.
I need: sanctity.
I am: alone.
Hmm, that got a bit negative. Meh.
Monday, June 23
Today has been a completely crap day. I woke up to hear my Mum on the phone to an insurance company, because we got a letter through from the owner of the other car that was involved in the accident I had. She eventually found out that the other guy was claiming for over £1,000 of damage to his car. I find this incredible to believe, because I swear that there was only a few scratches on the back of his car, whereas the bumper came off mine. That bumper only cost £150 to replace, so £1,000 is somewhat excessive! The problem is that because I was driving, our insurance company puts a £500 excess on any claims. My parents aren't happy about this, to say the least. When I got out of bed, I got an absolute fucking earful about the incident and how much it's going to cost, etc.
The "witness" who gave the other guy my registration plate (I forgot to leave a note to the other guy because I was in a bit of a state about the accident) claimed that when I hit the back of the other car, it knocked it into a pillar, which means that part of the side needs repairing as well as the rear. I am almost completely certain that there was no pillar next to the car, but I struggle to remember perfectly because I got myself into a state about the accident. This is what my parents can't understand. I had an accident, and it fucked me up. Excuse me if my memory isn't 100% perfect concerning the exact details of everything around me immediately after the accident. I mean, it was my first accident for fuck's sake. I wasn't to know how I would react.
Anyway after all this moaning at me, my Mum got back to the fact that I'd have to contribute a fair bit to the total of £650 that they're going to have to pay out. No, really Mum? Jeez, wouldn't have seen that one coming. I still haven't got a job yet, which is annoying my parents no end. I've signed on with an agency, I'm just waiting on them to find me a job. I really, really don't want to do factory work again, I hated every minute of it. Give me a job sat in front of a computer, inputting data or some shit. That'll suit me fine. Easy money, and not cold / smelly / wet. Unfortunately the agency haven't found me anything yet, so my parents are pressuring me into working in a factory again or some crappy supermarket somewhere. I'm nigh-on adamant that I'm not going to do that, but it's looking increasingly like I'm going to end up working nights at my local Tesco's. Oh joy.
I got well annoyed with my parents after all this. I was just about to get in the shower when my Mum said something like "And he wants to drive a GTI or something like that..." I sort of muttered quite loudly "Oh, shut up," which they evidently heard. My Mum was all "How dare you speak to me like that," and my Dad was halfway up the stairs, probably coming to hit me or something. I heard my Mum tell him (plead with him?) not to hit me, but he just said to me "You should be helping out with all of this, it was your accident". Yeah, how the fuck am I supposed to do anything? The car is registered to my Mum, the insurance policy is in my Mum's name, and all of the correspondence has been addressed to her. If I get on the phone to the insurance company, they'll only ask to speak to Mum. What's the fucking point?
I was so angry in the shower, thinking about how I'd have loved for my Dad to hit me, so that I could hit him back for the first time. And my Mum, does she ever fucking stop? She's like a CD on repeat, always coming out with the same fucking shit again and again. I've got to the point now where I just can't be bothered with it. She says that she wants to have "a talk with me." Note the use of the word "with." What actually happens is that she talks at me for the best part of an hour, with me making little noises of compliance or whatever when she pauses for breath. None of it ever registers with me any more, I've heard it all before a thousand times.
This is the place where I can find some sort of solace from my parents. They don't even know that I do this blog, which is great because I can just say whatever the fuck I want about them here. Not that I would ever abuse that power / opportunity. Not until now, anyway.
Saturday Night - The Synopsis
Righty, I really can't be arsed to do a full run-down of the events of Saturday night, mainly because I've got another post coming up which I want to really rant in. So, this is a super-brief, fairly cryptic synopsis of what happened on Saturday night.
Mate's house. Beer. Bus. More Beer. Pub. More Beer. Another Pub. Beer. Cocktail. Shots. Wine Bar. Jug Of Cocktail. Club. Queue. Sparkly Purple Hat. Alcopops. Dancing. Chatting. Asked About Pills. More Dancing. More Alcopops. Memory Loss. Wake Up On Sunday Afternoon. Sorted.
Sunday, June 22
I am the king of being lazy.
I managed to stay in bed until gone 2 this afternoon, which even by my standards is very, very late. This is because I was out last night and got absolutely blasted. I don't even remember leaving the club we were all in or anything after that. Meh. I'll detail the full story in another post later because I'm off to a barbecue at a mate's house now. Mmmm, proper barbecue food: black on the outside, frozen and red on the inside. Food poisoning here I come!