I don't even know anymore. I have way too much time to think, and this time should be used to practice piano, read, study for upcoming exams, knit..... and yet I always come back to my good old blog so that I can bitch about something else.
Fuck is a word I've been saying more recently. Everything just doesn't seem to be going right. Most people at my school probably think "Oh, yeah, there's that girl who has no problems. She's smart and she smiles all the time." Yeah, I am that girl. I am smart, I have reasons not to smile but I do so anyway. When I'm sick, I go to school. When I'm pissed off, I still do the dishes. When I'm mad at something, I still talk to friends and I try not to complain about myself. I do complain, of course, and I think about how much I complain and that kids in third world countries actually have reasons to complain and then I think about how I could be doing something right now to help those kids instead of sitting here writing my blog, and that makes me feel bad. But I'm just so full of thoughts, I figured I would put them on here.
My mom got back from Oman on Monday night, and as soon as we all got in the car at the airport my dad started acting like an asshole. Since my mom's return, she has been constantly reminding us of how much better it is there, in Oman (she says our house is so small she feels claustrophobic and that it's horrible), and my dad basically lives downstairs, either sitting on his computer or sorting LEGO, which will take a million years and it will piss him off anyway.
At supper I was talking about what courses I had an my dad didn't hear me so he asked me to repeat what I said. He had food in his mouth at the time. My mom decided to act like a 7 year old and tell my dad that he was talking while he was chewing. My dad decided to act like he was 7 as well and he just ignored her. Fuck, grow up already. Or get a divorce. I guess it would be kind of hard to get a divorce when you don't have a marriage in the first place. Fuck, I'd rather pack up my stuff every week and spend every other week in a different house than listen to them argue. I don't' know what I wouldn't give to hear my dad call my mom Slodko (Sweet in polish) and my mom to call my dad Honey more often. Come to think of it, on Tuesday when she called him Honey, that was the first and only time I've heard her say it in what feels like a million years. I would give anything to see them hug each other, kiss each other, hold each other, go on a date, at least look like they're in love with each other. I know that they're both depressed, sexually repressed (which is really gross because it's my parents but it's so true), angry, tired.. the list goes on. I know they have a serious problem, and if the problem is that they don't love each other anymore (which is obviously the problem) then I don't know what is.
The thing is, my life isn't screwed up, it just has many flaws. I feel like I don't belong here, that I belong in Europe, walking down streets with my camera or painting a picture on the beach or sitting in a cafe or working in an orphanage. When my Science teacher talks about the climate in Scotland and tells the class where Scotland is, I think to myself "how can they not know where that is?" and then I feel like a total jerk for thinking that because obviously if my parents weren't from Europe and didn't travel then I wouldn't know where those places are either.
Weekends are for being whoever you want and doing whatever you want, after you've done what you have to do. And that's what I do. I don't want to hang out with my friends when I'm not in the mood because I just want to sit in the house and knit or read and be comfortable, not have to make conversation with anyone or ask my dad for a drive because I know he hates driving me around and he feels that I don't deserve to be driven around because sometimes I act like a bitch. And I don't want to act like a bitch, but sometimes my parents just act so immature it pisses me off, and then my brother comes and annoys me on purpose... I don't know. I don't know is becoming one of my more popular phrases. I wish I just lived in an attic on top of an old store in Europe and I could sit at my window and just stare at the world going by around me, and then when I'd finished my work I would get up and join them. I want to grow up and go traveling on my own and discover things by myself, but I know that when that time comes I'll regret wishing it. The thing is, I don't know how to make these years really worth living when I have to babysit my parents and act like Switzerland in World War II with my friends.
