I am finally �free�. Free, of course, is only a manner of speaking. It�s actually kinda ironic if you consider it. In order to be free of the hectic-ness of my house, I have to pay rent. I suppose that it�s only fitting though, and it�s definitely well worth it.
I�ll get back to that in a minute.
Holidays, how fun they are. I�m rather ambivalent about them. I find myself staring at people with wonder when they say that they love the holidays. Well, I mean, I love them too, but only because I get the time off of work. It�s not that I don�t like my family, but it seems rather ridiculous to get my hopes up that things will be the fuzzy �normal� that everyone talks about.
My family is comprised of very good people, but it seems like the gathering of all of us in one place brings out the worst in everyone. I�m not free of it myself; being around everyone brings out my cynicism and sarcasm. My mother spent most of the holiday freaking out as per usual. She always always always takes on everything and doesn�t ask for help. But then she complains later on that she does everything herself. When dinner was finally on the table, she seemed to have calmed a bit, so that the tension switched over to my aunt and Cousin A.
Cousin A is a kid with no wants. Or rather, he wants everything, and eventually he�ll get it. B came up with an interesting analogy. From the movie Finding Nemo, there is this group of mindless seagulls who just say �mine! Mine!� over and over again. He compared Cousin A with the seagulls, and I have to say that it�s a perfect fit.
My aunt walked in the door with Cousin A in tow and asked me if I owned the game Sim City. Since I do, I nodded. She asked if Cousin A could �borrow� it. I know full well that this means, �Give it to him� not �borrow� because I�ll never see it again if I let him take it from my house. Not only that, but if I do see it again, it�ll be sold, smashed, or scratched beyond repair. However, this time I had a valid excuse. I honestly didn�t have a darn clue where the game was. It could have been in the basement. It could have been at my father�s house. It could have been in a box in my apartment for all I know. Upon finding out that I couldn�t locate the game at that present moment, she told me to go find it for him.
Hm�.. �asking� me to let Cousin A �borrow� something and then �telling� me to go find it when I say no�.yeah�.
Anyway, Cousin A followed me all around the house asking if he could have my various things such as my 13� TV [broken], my computer, my stereo, etc. The boy has 2 TV�s that are both functional and bigger than mine, as well as a computer that is newer than mine. Why would he want any of it? The answer is quite simple.
�Mine! Mine!�
I did have some fun conversations with my grandparents, but B had a hard time ignoring the stupid humor that erupts when my stepfather is around his son. Again, nothing horrible happened and nothing overly wonderful happened. It was just kinda there. It happened. It�s over.
On Friday I moved into my place and just reveled in the fact that it�s mine. I had a few people over on Saturday to enjoy the space with me, hoping that they wouldn�t notice the 5 or so boxes that I hadn�t unpacked hidden in my closet [I think it worked!]. It was definitely a good time. Everyone brought something, as well as enjoyed all the board game playing that we did. I�ll definitely have to keep in mind setting up some kind of once-a-month board game/card night kind of thing. Boy do I miss those times up at school�.
My mom has been over to my apartment once and has already tried to rearrange things. She doesn�t like the way that I have one or two things set up and had no trouble letting me know. In fact, she wouldn�t drop the subject, much to my chagrin. I was trying to be civil, I really was, but it was getting on my nerves that she has to make sure that she comments on how she doesn�t like things.
She recently bought a new chair for her living room, which resulted in me acquiring the old one. I, personally, can�t stand the new chair that she bought, but hey, I don�t have to live there so who cares?
Apparently, she cares. She asked me what I thought of her chair and I told her, quite candidly, that I didn�t like the color. She had a fit and acted hurt because I didn�t like it. However, she has no qualms about telling me that I have no �sense of d�cor� and whatnot when she doesn�t like something that I do. Do I care when she says that to me? God no. Why don�t I care? Because IT�S MY PLACE! The only person whose opinion matters when it comes to my apartment is me. I don�t get why she can validate herself by saying that I have no d�cor style, but then gets hurt when I don�t like something that she bought. Who the hell cares if anyone likes or doesn�t like something that YOU bought? Anyway, I told her to drop the rearranging crap about three times and she just shook her head in disgust and said, �That�s not how I would do things.�
Well no shit.
Oh, and by the way, I don�t care.
It�s so irritating that she can�t even leave me alone when I move out. She was, yet again, hurt at the concept that I wouldn�t always let her come over when she wanted to. She runs around telling people that I�m never going to visit, that I�m basically a horrible daughter, and she wonders why I run at the first real opportunity that I get? I don�t think that she quite gets how much I resent her. I don�t think that she quite understands how little she opens her ears to other people. Sure she�s generous toward me, but when I don�t get on my knees and thank her for her generosity, she takes the things that she bought away from me.
Why even bother?
When I took off work early on Wednesday, I came home to load up my truck with things to move. During the time that I was there, my stepfather spent what seemed like four hours swearing loudly about cleaning. He was making sure to let all the invisible people that he interacts with on a daily basis know that he was very very unhappy about cleaning.
But yet, he volunteered to do it. Why volunteer if you�re going to bitch? Why give someone something if you�re expecting them to be indebted to you?
I don�t understand why she can�t treat me like an adult and just let me live my life. It�s hard for me to imagine being so controlling over another individual. I can�t imagine not being able to let go of the reigns for two seconds to see if someone can learn on their own without someone else telling them to do it. It�s much like how she has to nag me to do things. She tells me four or five times before I even have the first opportunity to do the task. She doesn�t give me the chance to see if I can think about it myself, and quite frankly, I think she has seriously hindered my ability to live in reality by doing that.
By not letting things happen to me, she has basically limited my ability to foresee anything that could happen. Because I never learned through my own methods, I can�t foresee possible roadblocks that may come up. The result of that is that I don�t feel that I�m as developed as I�d like to be as an independent thinker. I still have to ask about certain things that you�d think some people should be capable of at my age.
I don�t think that she understands that I need some time to get away from her. I need to let the quiet set in so that I can go on with my life without having shattered nerves. She gets so hurt and uses blackmail and guilt to keep me forcefully on this leash, but the more she yanks, the more resistance I put up. If she would only see that if she let me go for awhile, I�d come back after the resentment has worn off.
I don�t know how to make her see that she needs to leave me alone for awhile, that I need this. Hopefully she�ll realize it without me needing to shove it in her face, but I�m not backing off.
