I am frustrated.
I am not comfortable with using this site as a way to vent about family. I have found it too many different ways using my full name, which means any family member can stumble upon it, without even using StumbleUpon.
I have read too many other, more experienced bloggers too long. I have read their allusions to why there are entire swaths of their blogs missing, in an attempt to patch and darn the rents their words tore into their families. I don’t want to have to make the same apologies to my family. I don’t want to hurt anyone with my frustrations.
I don’t want to hurt them in such a public and painful forum. They might hurt me with their words, their pregnant pauses and their judgments, but I don’t want to add names to those accusations.
This is the internet equivalent of me screaming in a pillow in frustration. My hands are tied: I cannot type what I want to spill out onto the webpage. I want to vomit it all up, but that’s a stain Resolve can’t lift.
I am so frustrated.
I just wish they could know that the world does not revolve around them. The actions other people take in their own lives? They are not an elaborate attempt to hurt or upset anyone else; they are not personal attacks.
I really think we all spend so much time obsessing over ourselves, but not in the way that sounds. We carefully dab coverup on that blemish, convinced that everyone we pass is thinking, “ew! What a disgusting pimple!” We pick out our clothes in an attempt to prevent our classmates from passing judgment on our wealth, our status and our taste. We buy the fancy car and the big house, and a lot of debt, all for the momentary thrill of seeing other people’s faces and imagining what they are thinking about us.
I’ll tell you what I’m thinking: “You must be up to your eyeballs in debt!”
We want the perfect body, the perfect life, the perfect everything, just so we can imagine what other people are saying about us. We worry when we don’t have the perfect body, the perfect life, the perfect everything, that they are thinking derogatory things about us.
The funny thing is: if we are all so occupied about these things, who has time to actually think anything about anyone else?
The only world that revolves around us is the world in each of our respective heads. And it’s entirely imaginary.
Remember how yesterday, I was all melodramatic and sad and stuff because I thought my Grandma was going to die?
Well, she still is.
Except not in the foreseeable future.
First of all, my parents are really terrible with the whole “communication” thing. I got a phone call from my mom on Friday, saying that Grandma was at the ER, and they were taking her back to the retirement home and bringing hospice in, and it wasn’t looking good. And then my dad sent out an email saying that Grandma was praying for death and refusing treatment.
Except that the email wasn’t true, apparently? They gave her a major antibiotic for her infection, and she was better by the next day and improving every day since.
Nobody mentioned this to me until last night. Thanks for the update, dudes. Way to be all over the communication thing.
So, all of my readers (Hi Roommate!) can stop being worried about Grandma. She’s the ever-ready bunny, and probably won’t die.
At least not this week, she won’t.
When she does, I doubt my parents will mention it to me until a week later. It’ll be all, “Oh, hai! What’s shakin’? Mmmhmm, mmhmm. Grandma’s funeral was nice. What? You didn’t know she died? Whoops, mah bad. We were wondering why you didn’t show up. Figured you had a library test or something. Don’t worry, we’ll remember to tell you when Nana dies, kay?”
