Undecided Basket Case

  I read my blog sometimes. When I forget. I forget a lot these days. I’ve forgotten more than I’ve learnt, I’m sure. My grandmother used to tell me stories of her life and at some point during the seven years I lived with her, she began to repeat them. I saw on Facebook once this dumb story about a wolf and a father. Something about him repeating stories to his son, and when his son complained he said I washed you, clothed you, listened to you say the same things again and again as a child and you can’t listen to this? I used to think about that a lot. I would tell myself to be patient, but I would still snap and tell my grandmother, ‘I know’. Eventually she’d say, ‘well, you know everything, don’t you?’. It would make me so angry, and I couldn’t fathom why. I think now it’s because she was calling me out on my lack of patience, and I didn’t like it.   Of course, when you lose someone all you want is more time. More time to know, and to ask questions and to hear the same st...

I'm going to the UK this Christmas. I went last Christmas to see relatives after my grandmother passed. That trip was a lot of things, some I really enjoyed and some I didn't. I didn't like spending time with my father. I did like spending time with my grandmother's sister, however I'm worried I made a bad  impression. I spoke to her like I spoke to my grandmother and she was hurt because she felt I argued with everything she said. I worry that because she has now met me she pities my gran more for having to deal with me. I worry that I hurt my grandmother in the same way. My aunt says you can't blame a child for acting like a child, and it's the adult's responsibility to make their happiness where they can. She also says that the actions of children always appear different when looking back on them with an adult's perspective. It makes me feel like I should view my progression from child to adult like a switch, whereas it feels more like an evolutio...

So. August 12 th , the date of my last post and the day before my birthday. I just want to say my birthday was fantastic. I didn’t do much. First, let me tell you something. My Grandmother, who I live with, and I were at the shops a few days before. She was moaning about what to get me and I was giving the usual helpful response, of ‘nothing, you don’t have to get me anything’, and she was giving me this look, you know? The one that’s like an exasperated shut up kind of thing. Side note: enjoy this picture of the pigface she looks at every time she goes for a smoke (if anyone asks, she doesn't smoke)     Anyway, we walked past this jewellery place and my Gran saw these earrings. My ears are pretty sensitive, so I kept saying I needed to get proper ones, silver or gold. Nothing fancy or expensive. Just something that wouldn’t irritate me. I like silver. I think it goes with my tan a little better. So, we saw these tiny star ones in silver, super pretty,...

Tomorrow, I’ll be 18. I haven’t planned anything. I feel like I haven’t really done anything worthwhile. I also feel like sleeping for an eternity and buying a dog I can’t take care of. Is a quarter-life crisis a thing? Moving on. Or not, as the case may be. Let us reminisce. I missed out on my rebellious stage. I died my hair black at 14 and delved into copious amounts of eyeliner. Fun times, right? On my 16 th birthday I went to a party. That wasn’t for me, but they all sung happy birthday to me so that saved me from becoming a depressed blob. That’s a lie. I didn’t really care. In fact, it was rather exhausting and for most of it I remember really wanting to go to bed. But, I've never gotten fired from a job, or tattooed my skin at much too young an age, or whatever it is rebellious teenagers do. I lacked interest. Still do. It seems sad, like I've missed out on a major life event.   Happy birthday to me. You're gonna be an adult. It's scary,...