meh
My sister is pregnant. She just had a child ten months ago. So now the grand total would be Zoey (4, 5 in May) Delaney (10 months) and then the new one. Hopefully they pick out a decent name this time. I am thinking something not so much yuppie, status seeking, pseudo white trash. But whatever not my kid.
So for the next nine months to the rest of my life I get the astute pleasure of hearing about how the only safe sex is abstinence. I swear that my parents think I am a freshmen in high school. They must have some mental block that won’t allow them to understand or comprehend the fact that I am not only twenty-three but I do occasionally have sex, and even more rare I have sex with someone else.
Liz having another child isn’t a horrible thing, but the bullshit that comes along with it, is what I do not look forward to. Between my mother and I (and honestly she does the lion share of the work) we are for all intents and purposes raising both Zoey and Delaney. This by itself can be handled with grace and dignity you all have come to expect from me. And I don’t really mind having either one around as often as they are. I love them both dearly and I enjoy spending time with them. What annoys me, is that Liz and Dallas both work hard, noble jobs. I respect that. I wouldn’t want to be a nurse (unless it was ER in which case I’d either love it or become so bitter and cynical I’d be a guest host for “The Showbiz Show with David Spade.”) or a cop (just because my natural inclination when faced with a new rule is to either circumvent it, or just outright break it in protest, my rebellious streak against authority I don’t think would fly well in that type of environment. But then again I was an excellent midshipmen in my short and bridged career). I suppose I could do either if I wanted to. But I don’t. So I digress, despite these jobs they have they somehow find just enough time to drop the kids off here then go do whatever they like (sleep is what they say, I can only assume due to the pregnancy that sleeping isn’t exactly the common street name for it). They work twelve hour shifts. It’s a long time. I ought to know I did it for three years working at spinx, five usually six days a week. And when I worked on the shrimp boat we usually worked all day, and all night. Our sleep was the 20 minutes between the mini net. And that was on a good day. So I understand, its difficult. Its hard. I can sympathize. But having a baby won’t make it any easier, and why should I expect things to change when they haven’t since we moved down here five years ago?
This hits a little to close to home for my comfort. But fuck comfort I’m going for the whole thing.
I live at home. I have for quite some time. Whenever I’ve tried to leave it’s always been on the back of someone else. I have never made my way in the world on my own. Unless you count being homeless in Philly for three years. (side note, just speaking with my father I not only knew what style of Chinese food we as American’s typically eat, but what province it’s from and how it differs from the other provinces. Why do I know this stuff?) so I squatted in crack houses, homeless shelters (I prefer the crack houses) and other various places. Aside form that I’ve never really been on my own. I absolutely detest that I am not on my own. It is a source of constant annoyance to me. I hate taking advantage of my parents like this, and I contribute as much as I can. But what can I say, good roommates are hard to find, and I’m a very particular person. (Karen I’m looking at you on this one) and generally hard to deal with (one more reason the woman I’ve lived with are a godsend, and some sort of angel in human clothing). I can handle all of that. I may not like it but I can deal with it. We have our written agreement (we seriously have a contract, I have to do XYZ chores, on XYZ dates or within a specific time frame, its actually pretty structured, which I detest.) and it helps us get along just fine. But once I move out, I don’t depend on them for anything. I pay my bills (standing bills, car, insurance and the like total around 500$ a month, things like electric and grocery and what-nots I pay what I can without dipping into my saving too, too much) I take care of my own problems. In fact that is why I haven’t moved out quite so soon. I simply don’t make enough money in anyway shape or form to be able to support myself. Even working forty hours a week, with an okay pay I still don’t make near enough. If I didn’t have to pay for my car and my insurance was cheaper I’d be doing much better (an extra 400$ a month better) but I am not. So here I live. From what I understand it is a trend. Considering my generation (1977-1986) is the first in almost a hundred years to be doing worse than the proceeding generation it makes sense. Anyway my point is I take just as much advantage of my parents as do Liz and Dallas. Well actually I don’t. I don’t expect anything from them, aside from helping me with bills once in great while (considering I pay them about 600-700 a month to live here plus whatever expenses they decide I ought to pay that month) and having something edible in the pantry. The big difference between myself and Liz and Dall is twofold. One they both have careers. They both have some sort of college degree (actually I do, but its what’s know as a transfer degree with is worth about as much as the paper its printed on) and they live away from here in a pretty nice (subjectively, I’m being nice) suburban, yuppie, status seeking, bullshit, anti everything Nick values neighborhood. They like it, so whatever. It isn’t my house it isn’t my life. And besides who am I to judge too harshly on such things?
They both have everything going for them to build the foundation of what they consider to be a comfortable life. And yet they stills almost refuse to give up the luxury of my parents. They do, a lot for them. Well they have them over for dinner once in awhile. While my parents are smart and know they are being taken advantage of, which I can respect. They know what’s going on and just don’t care. But Both Shannon and I get upset because we haven’t followed in the path that way laid out before us (probably painstakingly so). Shannon ran away from home joined the Army, became a Ranger and was sent to war. I just don’t give enough of a shit about the things that everyone else feels I ought to. I don’t value money (I do but I see it only as an opportunity to do the things I want to. I don’t see it as my vitae), I don’t value status, I don’t give a shit what my neighbors think of me (as long as they don’t utterly hate my guts and wish me any kind of specific harm (unspecific harm would be alright)) . Because I don’t hold true to the same values and value structure as my parents I catch all the shit about being irresponsible, an oaf, lazy and selfish. When I clearly do more to help out this family unit (including Liz and Dall’s brood) than what they do.
So because of Liz’s pregnancy, I am going to catch more shit than before, I am going to get more lectures than before, and I am going to get black-sheeped even more so. But none of us asked to be born, and whatever hardships (if you can really call them that) I may have to face the baby will be well loved. I’m at this moment annoyed that because of someone else’s actions totally unrelated to my own I am going to be further subjugated. It is utterly frustrating.
So for the next nine months to the rest of my life I get the astute pleasure of hearing about how the only safe sex is abstinence. I swear that my parents think I am a freshmen in high school. They must have some mental block that won’t allow them to understand or comprehend the fact that I am not only twenty-three but I do occasionally have sex, and even more rare I have sex with someone else.
Liz having another child isn’t a horrible thing, but the bullshit that comes along with it, is what I do not look forward to. Between my mother and I (and honestly she does the lion share of the work) we are for all intents and purposes raising both Zoey and Delaney. This by itself can be handled with grace and dignity you all have come to expect from me. And I don’t really mind having either one around as often as they are. I love them both dearly and I enjoy spending time with them. What annoys me, is that Liz and Dallas both work hard, noble jobs. I respect that. I wouldn’t want to be a nurse (unless it was ER in which case I’d either love it or become so bitter and cynical I’d be a guest host for “The Showbiz Show with David Spade.”) or a cop (just because my natural inclination when faced with a new rule is to either circumvent it, or just outright break it in protest, my rebellious streak against authority I don’t think would fly well in that type of environment. But then again I was an excellent midshipmen in my short and bridged career). I suppose I could do either if I wanted to. But I don’t. So I digress, despite these jobs they have they somehow find just enough time to drop the kids off here then go do whatever they like (sleep is what they say, I can only assume due to the pregnancy that sleeping isn’t exactly the common street name for it). They work twelve hour shifts. It’s a long time. I ought to know I did it for three years working at spinx, five usually six days a week. And when I worked on the shrimp boat we usually worked all day, and all night. Our sleep was the 20 minutes between the mini net. And that was on a good day. So I understand, its difficult. Its hard. I can sympathize. But having a baby won’t make it any easier, and why should I expect things to change when they haven’t since we moved down here five years ago?
This hits a little to close to home for my comfort. But fuck comfort I’m going for the whole thing.
I live at home. I have for quite some time. Whenever I’ve tried to leave it’s always been on the back of someone else. I have never made my way in the world on my own. Unless you count being homeless in Philly for three years. (side note, just speaking with my father I not only knew what style of Chinese food we as American’s typically eat, but what province it’s from and how it differs from the other provinces. Why do I know this stuff?) so I squatted in crack houses, homeless shelters (I prefer the crack houses) and other various places. Aside form that I’ve never really been on my own. I absolutely detest that I am not on my own. It is a source of constant annoyance to me. I hate taking advantage of my parents like this, and I contribute as much as I can. But what can I say, good roommates are hard to find, and I’m a very particular person. (Karen I’m looking at you on this one) and generally hard to deal with (one more reason the woman I’ve lived with are a godsend, and some sort of angel in human clothing). I can handle all of that. I may not like it but I can deal with it. We have our written agreement (we seriously have a contract, I have to do XYZ chores, on XYZ dates or within a specific time frame, its actually pretty structured, which I detest.) and it helps us get along just fine. But once I move out, I don’t depend on them for anything. I pay my bills (standing bills, car, insurance and the like total around 500$ a month, things like electric and grocery and what-nots I pay what I can without dipping into my saving too, too much) I take care of my own problems. In fact that is why I haven’t moved out quite so soon. I simply don’t make enough money in anyway shape or form to be able to support myself. Even working forty hours a week, with an okay pay I still don’t make near enough. If I didn’t have to pay for my car and my insurance was cheaper I’d be doing much better (an extra 400$ a month better) but I am not. So here I live. From what I understand it is a trend. Considering my generation (1977-1986) is the first in almost a hundred years to be doing worse than the proceeding generation it makes sense. Anyway my point is I take just as much advantage of my parents as do Liz and Dallas. Well actually I don’t. I don’t expect anything from them, aside from helping me with bills once in great while (considering I pay them about 600-700 a month to live here plus whatever expenses they decide I ought to pay that month) and having something edible in the pantry. The big difference between myself and Liz and Dall is twofold. One they both have careers. They both have some sort of college degree (actually I do, but its what’s know as a transfer degree with is worth about as much as the paper its printed on) and they live away from here in a pretty nice (subjectively, I’m being nice) suburban, yuppie, status seeking, bullshit, anti everything Nick values neighborhood. They like it, so whatever. It isn’t my house it isn’t my life. And besides who am I to judge too harshly on such things?
They both have everything going for them to build the foundation of what they consider to be a comfortable life. And yet they stills almost refuse to give up the luxury of my parents. They do, a lot for them. Well they have them over for dinner once in awhile. While my parents are smart and know they are being taken advantage of, which I can respect. They know what’s going on and just don’t care. But Both Shannon and I get upset because we haven’t followed in the path that way laid out before us (probably painstakingly so). Shannon ran away from home joined the Army, became a Ranger and was sent to war. I just don’t give enough of a shit about the things that everyone else feels I ought to. I don’t value money (I do but I see it only as an opportunity to do the things I want to. I don’t see it as my vitae), I don’t value status, I don’t give a shit what my neighbors think of me (as long as they don’t utterly hate my guts and wish me any kind of specific harm (unspecific harm would be alright)) . Because I don’t hold true to the same values and value structure as my parents I catch all the shit about being irresponsible, an oaf, lazy and selfish. When I clearly do more to help out this family unit (including Liz and Dall’s brood) than what they do.
So because of Liz’s pregnancy, I am going to catch more shit than before, I am going to get more lectures than before, and I am going to get black-sheeped even more so. But none of us asked to be born, and whatever hardships (if you can really call them that) I may have to face the baby will be well loved. I’m at this moment annoyed that because of someone else’s actions totally unrelated to my own I am going to be further subjugated. It is utterly frustrating.