And I'm SO BORED.
I only technically finished last Thursday when I submitted my last exam but in reality I've been relaxing since I submitted my final essay for the semester on the 30th. During term there's always a list of things I'll do once I have time, but come break hey there goes all my lists and my motivation to remember what I wanted/needed to do. So I end up bored.
It's not like I've not been trying to keep busy. Every day it's not raining (which is so few recently!) I've been out walking the dogs. Since the 1st I've written over 28,000 words - I realised a few days ago I might as well do NaNoWriMo as I was basically on par with it anyway and right now I'm like, 2-3 days ahead of par. I've listened to Hamilton's soundtrack so much I've practically memorised it and I know as much of his history as I need to. I had drinks with a teacher of mine who retired and I did spend a few nights out with my brother (and his friends) and my family before he went away. I've done things.
But I'm still bored. There's nothing new to take up all my attention and I know most of my friends are still busy with Uni so I'm not going to disturb their study. Work has given me one shift for the whole month which I'm hoping will change come December.
Plus a part of me doesn't want to leave the house. Which I know is a BAD thing and will only serve to make me more bored (and possibly depressed? Spending day in, day out with only my parents will certainly do bad things to my psyche, I'm sure) but I can't counter it.
Exams are over next week. I'm going to try to get out more after that. And I know there's a new T.V show I'm looking forward to coming out on the 20th. Maybe a combination of something to do with my days and something to do with my nights will break this boredom and get me the motivation to remember and do all the things I wanted to in my holidays.
Showing posts with label Confused Post is Confused. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Confused Post is Confused. Show all posts
Saturday, 14 November 2015
Thursday, 11 June 2015
I'm Not Scared Of You
So my Dad lost it last night. He's been having issues recently with a tooth of his, possibly one that's got some kind of cap on it, I'm not sure. Either way, it fell out last night while he was in his lounge chair and went down the side of the chair. I was in the room when it happened and Dad's first reaction was to try and get the tooth back.
It stayed his only reaction for nearly an hour and a half. He turned the chair upside down and sideways; checked out the bin beside the lounge and then turned the chair upside down again. And then he felt inside the lounge again.
That's not the worst of it. Dad basically got within minutes of ripping apart our lounge chair in search of this tiny, tiny tooth. My brother was at work but Mum and I were recruited into helping - despite me being busy working on an essay I just submitted. At one point I escaped the room to take the garbage out and got caught up taking the neighbour's dog home so that took nearly twenty minutes. I came back to them still looking. Dad was completely losing it, calling himself all kinds of names and basically thinking he's the worst person alive for losing a tooth. It was definitely an overreaction and both Mum and I were upset -Mum at the fact Dad was willing to destroy our lounge chair; me because everyone else was upset and that tends to make me feel the same. I was also upset because some of the things Dad was saying about himself were awful and I just do not like hearing him talk like that. I cannot handle conflict really.
Eventually Mum and I managed to convince Dad to give up, though not with words but with lack of helpful action. We settled back into our places and wouldn't you know it? Dad found the damned tooth an hour later, somewhere in the lounge.
But that's all background. I found out today, from Mum, that Dad thought I was scared of him last night. See, like I said, I can't handle conflict, especially anger. And my answer to conflict is to remove myself from it. I remember a time in high school that I had a fight with a good friend - my only fight with her in memory- and as soon as I realised being angry was making me cry I removed myself from the situation and hid in a bathroom to cry myself out. I do not like to be present when someone is getting angry and I can't help. Especially not my parents.
So removing myself has nothing to do with being scared of the person who is angry but is my natural reaction to someone being angry. Last night I was not scared of Dad, just upset at his reaction.
And I started thinking. And I realised I've never been scared of my Dad. I mean, I've been scared of his reaction in that I feared the consequences he was going to give me for actions I've done but I've never feared for my safety when he's been present- even when angry, I know he won't hurt me though I'm not fond of being yelled at by him. Which is what I think he thinks I was scared of. He's apologised for his actions last night and I tried to make sure he realises I understood and wasn't scared but I don't know if it was clear.
But the idea that he could ever think I feared him is as upsetting a thought as the memory of his overreaction last night was. I don't want him to think I'm scared of him, he's one of the kindest men I know (with some of the worst politics around but no one is perfect) and I know how much he beats himself up over things. But I just do not have the words to reassure him, especially as I'm not sure he knows, I know what he told Mum about thinking I might be scared of him.
It's a bit of a mess really.
It stayed his only reaction for nearly an hour and a half. He turned the chair upside down and sideways; checked out the bin beside the lounge and then turned the chair upside down again. And then he felt inside the lounge again.
That's not the worst of it. Dad basically got within minutes of ripping apart our lounge chair in search of this tiny, tiny tooth. My brother was at work but Mum and I were recruited into helping - despite me being busy working on an essay I just submitted. At one point I escaped the room to take the garbage out and got caught up taking the neighbour's dog home so that took nearly twenty minutes. I came back to them still looking. Dad was completely losing it, calling himself all kinds of names and basically thinking he's the worst person alive for losing a tooth. It was definitely an overreaction and both Mum and I were upset -Mum at the fact Dad was willing to destroy our lounge chair; me because everyone else was upset and that tends to make me feel the same. I was also upset because some of the things Dad was saying about himself were awful and I just do not like hearing him talk like that. I cannot handle conflict really.
Eventually Mum and I managed to convince Dad to give up, though not with words but with lack of helpful action. We settled back into our places and wouldn't you know it? Dad found the damned tooth an hour later, somewhere in the lounge.
But that's all background. I found out today, from Mum, that Dad thought I was scared of him last night. See, like I said, I can't handle conflict, especially anger. And my answer to conflict is to remove myself from it. I remember a time in high school that I had a fight with a good friend - my only fight with her in memory- and as soon as I realised being angry was making me cry I removed myself from the situation and hid in a bathroom to cry myself out. I do not like to be present when someone is getting angry and I can't help. Especially not my parents.
So removing myself has nothing to do with being scared of the person who is angry but is my natural reaction to someone being angry. Last night I was not scared of Dad, just upset at his reaction.
And I started thinking. And I realised I've never been scared of my Dad. I mean, I've been scared of his reaction in that I feared the consequences he was going to give me for actions I've done but I've never feared for my safety when he's been present- even when angry, I know he won't hurt me though I'm not fond of being yelled at by him. Which is what I think he thinks I was scared of. He's apologised for his actions last night and I tried to make sure he realises I understood and wasn't scared but I don't know if it was clear.
But the idea that he could ever think I feared him is as upsetting a thought as the memory of his overreaction last night was. I don't want him to think I'm scared of him, he's one of the kindest men I know (with some of the worst politics around but no one is perfect) and I know how much he beats himself up over things. But I just do not have the words to reassure him, especially as I'm not sure he knows, I know what he told Mum about thinking I might be scared of him.
It's a bit of a mess really.
Monday, 16 March 2015
Well That Was New
I realise I've not posted much on here about the last oh, two or three months of my exchange. In fact I've barely posted anything on it for two main reasons. 1) I was too busy living it and I SUCK at keeping a diary, even an online one; and 2) I've had to think over one of the more major things that happened that I've barely talked about to anyone.
Namely the thing where I basically, kinda, nearly, had a boyfriend.
It's been tough to sort out. Firstly, we were good friends. Very good friends, having lunch every Wednesday. I miss our lunches so so much; they were a major feature of my week. We'd talk for hours on whatever topic we liked usually only leaving because it was dark and I had to walk the twenty minutes or so home. He was definitely one of the two close friends I made on exchange (the fact that the other one was also male has only added to my following confusion).
But I don't know if I actually liked him like that. I know he liked me like that- he pulled me aside (in an overly dramatic fashion on a day we weren't scheduled to see another) to admit that he thought I was hot and if I hadn't been an exchange student, he'd have asked me out. It was a very very nice thing to hear.
At the time, I told him I would have accepted if he had asked me out. It's still true; I would have said yes. I suppose that must mean I do (or did) like him like that but... it's kinda hard. I don't do sexual attraction so there's none of that. He's very cute (if young- about my brother's age!) and I really do like him. But like I said before, I had another male close friend in Exeter and well... there's not much difference in the way I feel about these two guys. Only the second guy lives in Sydney and goes to my uni.
But I never invited the second guy to my room for drinks like I did Exeter guy (nothing happened! Jeez =P) and I didn't cry when I said goodbye... admittedly I was going to see second guy again but I miss this guy more. I know we couldn't work out because he's not willing to do long distance...and neither am I. There's an element of logic in my thoughts that was always there so I'm also kinda wondering if that helped- if knowing that I couldn't do a relationship stopped me even allowing myself to consider the possibility. After all, I didn't even think about romance until he admitted he thought I was hot. Well, I mostly didn't think about romance.
Urgh. I'm confused. There's a major reason I'm not bothered with romance and it's because it's so CONFUSING. If only this was a story and I could write the damned ending!
Also I need to sort through photos. There's so many photos...
Namely the thing where I basically, kinda, nearly, had a boyfriend.
It's been tough to sort out. Firstly, we were good friends. Very good friends, having lunch every Wednesday. I miss our lunches so so much; they were a major feature of my week. We'd talk for hours on whatever topic we liked usually only leaving because it was dark and I had to walk the twenty minutes or so home. He was definitely one of the two close friends I made on exchange (the fact that the other one was also male has only added to my following confusion).
But I don't know if I actually liked him like that. I know he liked me like that- he pulled me aside (in an overly dramatic fashion on a day we weren't scheduled to see another) to admit that he thought I was hot and if I hadn't been an exchange student, he'd have asked me out. It was a very very nice thing to hear.
At the time, I told him I would have accepted if he had asked me out. It's still true; I would have said yes. I suppose that must mean I do (or did) like him like that but... it's kinda hard. I don't do sexual attraction so there's none of that. He's very cute (if young- about my brother's age!) and I really do like him. But like I said before, I had another male close friend in Exeter and well... there's not much difference in the way I feel about these two guys. Only the second guy lives in Sydney and goes to my uni.
But I never invited the second guy to my room for drinks like I did Exeter guy (nothing happened! Jeez =P) and I didn't cry when I said goodbye... admittedly I was going to see second guy again but I miss this guy more. I know we couldn't work out because he's not willing to do long distance...and neither am I. There's an element of logic in my thoughts that was always there so I'm also kinda wondering if that helped- if knowing that I couldn't do a relationship stopped me even allowing myself to consider the possibility. After all, I didn't even think about romance until he admitted he thought I was hot. Well, I mostly didn't think about romance.
Urgh. I'm confused. There's a major reason I'm not bothered with romance and it's because it's so CONFUSING. If only this was a story and I could write the damned ending!
Also I need to sort through photos. There's so many photos...
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