For I am Susan, The Invisable Daughter.
I don't know.
I really don't know. I can't get the hang of living here any more - it is driving me insane. I desperatly want out of this house and into my own. And when I mean my own, I mean my own. I don't want to live in a flat with flat mates, i don't want to be needing to conisder the wants of other people. For once, I would really like, to be able to consider my own wants. To be able to spread my stuff around and not cram it all into one room. My room is by no means tiny, but when you have a girl who is 23 years old, has university, collects dolls, desperatly needs new clothes, and has guinea pigs and a gecko (who all need more stuff for their day to day running that you would think...) It actually isn't much room at all. This feeling of *needing* to get out isn't helped by a father who only turns up at weekends moaning about the mess/non-existant smell from guinea pigs (they get cleaned every friday before he comes up. THEY SMELL OF HAY), and having a mother moaning about the mess in said room, doesn't help. The fact as well, depsite living in a big house, I am actually not allowed to leave *anything* of mine, apart from my wellies and my horse riding boots, anywhere else in the house. Sure enough, if I leave something like some uni notes, or my laptop, or some books, out until the weekend, when I go out at the weekend it is passive argressively left on my bed. This happens periodically with my shoes too, despite the fact that shoes get tucked away neatly in the cupboard under the stairs. Apparently, they are not allowed to go there. it seems as though I am not allowed to leave a trace of myself about the place.
In addition, nothing I ever do is ever good enough. I get B's at uni, why aren't you getting A's? I forget to do one thing, like visit my gran, when my mother has been banging on at me to collect a stool sample tube thing from the doctors for my dad, do the ironing, hoover, etc etc. I don't *mind* doing chores, it's the fact that no matter what I do, something is always left wanting. I drive my car, my sodding car isn't clean enough. This isn't just something concerning me, however. My dad moans at my brother for the mess in HIS house. In the actual house that my brother owns, paid for himself, and well...his house. Parent's will be parent's, I guess. Sometimes I do feel jealous of my brother too. He gets moaned at distinctly less and is the wonderful, perfect son. This, this is fine. My brother is amazing, and he has accomplished so much. But somehow it feels that...well... his crap is still around this house. I'm expected to feed my brother when they're away - hello? He has his own house and can feed himself! He is not an invalid! ...
It's stupid, and selfish I know, and I'm a horrible person for feeling this way sometimes. I shouldn't be bitching about my brother, and I'm not, I love him dearly, I'm proud of him. i just wish they would back off me a little and maybe apply more expectations to him. Moan at him once in a while (apart from the mess of his house thing). Maybe they do, just never in front of me and this whole thing is....in my head. But sometimes, just sometimes, I wish that I could be the one getting a well done. That at the dinner table, we have a conversation about something I'm doing or something I'm planning, and not what michael has done and what michael is doing and how his weekend was and what new car he is getting.... It'd be nice, if I could talk about the guinea pigs I've rescued without "When are they going. When are you getting rid of them?" being asked. How uni is going. This is mostly to do with my dad, I'll admit. I was talking about the stupid slogan the archaeology society has come up with ("We're stoners, boners and a little bit metal." It's embarassing. It's rediculous, and it makes the GUAS look like complete tools in the archaeological world. They expect us to wear that on hoodies? Sorry, I'm a stoner(well, I smoke weed sometimes), and a metal head, more so than any members of the commitee, and *I* find it offensive) and he sat there all quiet, playing with his phone. He wasn't even listening. I tried to meet him half way with my rescuing piggies (I'm putting my foot down, this is not stopping) by suggesting, if I clean out the garage, make space, could I keep them there? Instead of my room where he doesn't like them because of the "smell" ? Apparently no. It would involve getting a shed. No point getting a shed until spring. Besides, the garage is used for other stuff (storing my brothers forgotten handbike, the fridges and the fold up chairs, your mean?). Also, you won't be here for much longer.
....Way to make me feel wanted Dad, way to make me feel wanted.
On top of all this personal angst, I am neglecting my friends, and being shitty with other commitments I've made. I need to pull my finger out this week and sort out auchi. Which is hard, since the actual con itself doesn't seem organised. In addition to this, I have an essay due, a 20 minute presentation and 1000 word report due...also need to work more on dissertation as have to do ANOTHER presentation (compuslery now, which is entirely unfair since I volenteered to do one at the beginning of the term...)....and find homes for guinea pigs, lest I get moaned at even more by Dad who only turns up at weekends.
I want my own house, then I wouldn't feel so dejected in the evenings and at weekends. Somewhere that i can have the piggies, and maybe have my dolls set out somewhere nice in the living room. Next to the TV, with Louis somewhere I can see him.... Have the bedroom for bedroom things, like clothes, and books. Instead of trying to find space to put things where, really, there is no space except the floor.
So sorry, anyway, here is a picture of a cute baby pig I rescued. He's so sweet and naughty. I think he's my favourite, because he's so tiny I worry he's getting enough food. He is, just fine. and when I pick him up often, his wee toeseys are cold. Not to mention the first night he was here he kept trying to squeeze out from between the bars of the cage and escape. Soooo cute! And he has a worrying habit of trying to eat the blanket they all sleep on...
What a wee monster.
I also miss my laptop. It is getting a good going through by the boy, who is embarrssed by the state it is in. Apparently riddled with spyware, or adware. I dunno. I am a bad laptop mummy.
I really don't know. I can't get the hang of living here any more - it is driving me insane. I desperatly want out of this house and into my own. And when I mean my own, I mean my own. I don't want to live in a flat with flat mates, i don't want to be needing to conisder the wants of other people. For once, I would really like, to be able to consider my own wants. To be able to spread my stuff around and not cram it all into one room. My room is by no means tiny, but when you have a girl who is 23 years old, has university, collects dolls, desperatly needs new clothes, and has guinea pigs and a gecko (who all need more stuff for their day to day running that you would think...) It actually isn't much room at all. This feeling of *needing* to get out isn't helped by a father who only turns up at weekends moaning about the mess/non-existant smell from guinea pigs (they get cleaned every friday before he comes up. THEY SMELL OF HAY), and having a mother moaning about the mess in said room, doesn't help. The fact as well, depsite living in a big house, I am actually not allowed to leave *anything* of mine, apart from my wellies and my horse riding boots, anywhere else in the house. Sure enough, if I leave something like some uni notes, or my laptop, or some books, out until the weekend, when I go out at the weekend it is passive argressively left on my bed. This happens periodically with my shoes too, despite the fact that shoes get tucked away neatly in the cupboard under the stairs. Apparently, they are not allowed to go there. it seems as though I am not allowed to leave a trace of myself about the place.
In addition, nothing I ever do is ever good enough. I get B's at uni, why aren't you getting A's? I forget to do one thing, like visit my gran, when my mother has been banging on at me to collect a stool sample tube thing from the doctors for my dad, do the ironing, hoover, etc etc. I don't *mind* doing chores, it's the fact that no matter what I do, something is always left wanting. I drive my car, my sodding car isn't clean enough. This isn't just something concerning me, however. My dad moans at my brother for the mess in HIS house. In the actual house that my brother owns, paid for himself, and well...his house. Parent's will be parent's, I guess. Sometimes I do feel jealous of my brother too. He gets moaned at distinctly less and is the wonderful, perfect son. This, this is fine. My brother is amazing, and he has accomplished so much. But somehow it feels that...well... his crap is still around this house. I'm expected to feed my brother when they're away - hello? He has his own house and can feed himself! He is not an invalid! ...
It's stupid, and selfish I know, and I'm a horrible person for feeling this way sometimes. I shouldn't be bitching about my brother, and I'm not, I love him dearly, I'm proud of him. i just wish they would back off me a little and maybe apply more expectations to him. Moan at him once in a while (apart from the mess of his house thing). Maybe they do, just never in front of me and this whole thing is....in my head. But sometimes, just sometimes, I wish that I could be the one getting a well done. That at the dinner table, we have a conversation about something I'm doing or something I'm planning, and not what michael has done and what michael is doing and how his weekend was and what new car he is getting.... It'd be nice, if I could talk about the guinea pigs I've rescued without "When are they going. When are you getting rid of them?" being asked. How uni is going. This is mostly to do with my dad, I'll admit. I was talking about the stupid slogan the archaeology society has come up with ("We're stoners, boners and a little bit metal." It's embarassing. It's rediculous, and it makes the GUAS look like complete tools in the archaeological world. They expect us to wear that on hoodies? Sorry, I'm a stoner(well, I smoke weed sometimes), and a metal head, more so than any members of the commitee, and *I* find it offensive) and he sat there all quiet, playing with his phone. He wasn't even listening. I tried to meet him half way with my rescuing piggies (I'm putting my foot down, this is not stopping) by suggesting, if I clean out the garage, make space, could I keep them there? Instead of my room where he doesn't like them because of the "smell" ? Apparently no. It would involve getting a shed. No point getting a shed until spring. Besides, the garage is used for other stuff (storing my brothers forgotten handbike, the fridges and the fold up chairs, your mean?). Also, you won't be here for much longer.
....Way to make me feel wanted Dad, way to make me feel wanted.
On top of all this personal angst, I am neglecting my friends, and being shitty with other commitments I've made. I need to pull my finger out this week and sort out auchi. Which is hard, since the actual con itself doesn't seem organised. In addition to this, I have an essay due, a 20 minute presentation and 1000 word report due...also need to work more on dissertation as have to do ANOTHER presentation (compuslery now, which is entirely unfair since I volenteered to do one at the beginning of the term...)....and find homes for guinea pigs, lest I get moaned at even more by Dad who only turns up at weekends.
I want my own house, then I wouldn't feel so dejected in the evenings and at weekends. Somewhere that i can have the piggies, and maybe have my dolls set out somewhere nice in the living room. Next to the TV, with Louis somewhere I can see him.... Have the bedroom for bedroom things, like clothes, and books. Instead of trying to find space to put things where, really, there is no space except the floor.
So sorry, anyway, here is a picture of a cute baby pig I rescued. He's so sweet and naughty. I think he's my favourite, because he's so tiny I worry he's getting enough food. He is, just fine. and when I pick him up often, his wee toeseys are cold. Not to mention the first night he was here he kept trying to squeeze out from between the bars of the cage and escape. Soooo cute! And he has a worrying habit of trying to eat the blanket they all sleep on...
What a wee monster.
I also miss my laptop. It is getting a good going through by the boy, who is embarrssed by the state it is in. Apparently riddled with spyware, or adware. I dunno. I am a bad laptop mummy.