Life, The Universe, and Everything
I will never understand why people think that our life is planned. That seems too idealistic to me. If that were the case then why would that person want us dragged through the mud kicking and screaming by our hair? I just feel like I can't and won't ever understand certain aspects of my life. Here are a few of them that are particularly getting to me today.
I love him; I really do, and nothing he does or I do will ever change that (that's what unconditional love means I suppose). I thought that I'd start by saying that because, if I'm honest, I need to clarify that for anyone reading this.
I do love him, but I can see the fragile relationship I have with him slipping through my fingers so fast I don't think I can stop it. I can see him not even acknowledging that I've grown up a lot more than he would care to admit. That I've become me and I've become a woman and confident and beautiful and sexy and intelligent.
It doesn't matter that I'm more like mother than he can handle or that I'm not a mini me of my Auntie anymore. What matters is what I am now. I'm not a little girl anymore, I'm a woman who can make her own decisions. I don't want to be anything other than myself.
Last week, I started a temping job in a factory. I knew, going in, that I would not enjoy the work and that all I had to do was think of the money. What I was doing made me grateful for what I have and how I live.
Let me explain what I was doing.
The plastic things that products are put in inside a box to look pretty - you know the ones that arrange everything into something aesthetically pleasing, but are a bitch to get things out of? - came in long rows in boxes; the rows were 3 high and 2 across. They had to be separated so that someone could put the product in the plastic. Then some cosmetic products were put in the spaces in the plastic; the person who did this then passed it to someone who put flannels and rubber ducks in the spaces in the container; this was passed to someone who made boxes for the plastic to go in; which was passed down to be done up - ribbon and all; then it was boxed up to be taken to the retailers.
On Wednesday I was stapling Velcro to a foam board. It was mind-numbingly pointless.
Why do people insist on talking about things they don't understand or are clearly topics that are unwanted?
It may be my childish naïveté but I still believe that my Grandparents will live forever, and when it was brought up last weekend about the possibility of them dying one day, I didn't really want to listen.
That being said - surely you shouldn't talk about 'these sorts of things' in front of the 'children.' It's just not done! Especially when you clearly don't know the character of the person you are talking about.
I'm close to my Grandpa, so I know him well and when someone doesn't understand him the way they should it frustrates me.
I've decided recently to use this as nature intended - as a blog - and keep you up to date with my life.
I'm going to Newquay tomorrow and then the week after I get my A level results!
Funfun!
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