Too Much Information?

Or not enough?

So on the way home from Uni yesterday, my parents and I were discussing me going overseas and what would be needed, etc. Suddenly Mum starts talking well, weirdly. Mentioning there's something else to discuss but we'll have to wait until we're home and away from Dad, who doesn't want to hear this. 

Just so you know, my family has the weirdest approach to so called 'women's issues' I've never seen. I was raised to never so much as mention 'that time of the month' in front of my brother and Dad because they'll get embarrassed and they don't wanna know. I'm learning it's ridiculous, this kind of approach but it's still hard for me to not be embarrassed at the mere thought of the stupid thing. Hell, I can barely name it without feeling icky. So. Not the best approach.

But also, apparently, off topic. I thought this was what Mum was talking about and was really confused because I wasn't aware that it would be an issue? I can deal with it as easily there as I can here? But after a few minutes of confused conversation, Dad finally snapped and told Mum to just come out with it because he's not that stupid. 

And Mum wants me to consider going on the pill. Which is...yeah, okay might be an idea. Idk what the pill does for people and if it'll be any use with the ever forgetful me but sure? I'll consider it. 

Just, there were two reasons Mum wants me to consider it. One being the benefits and the other being it would be, and I quote, "protection" for me "in case something happened". 

And it's times like this that I wish I could talk to my parents about my feelings regarding sex. I replied instantly that I had no intention of spending the night in anybody's bed to which I was told "things happen". If I could talk to them about this, they would know the exact nature of my feelings about the entire thing and that really, I'm very much not interested. But instead I can't so I have to put up with being told that what I think (and feel really) is invalid in the face of their experience.

And I managed to not use the word sex in that entire paragraph. Go me?   

More Interview Stuff

So I had my interview for exchange today.

It was very relaxed. Like, I dressed up a bit for it because interview but I really shouldn't have bothered. Though I'm sure it helped form a good opinion. But mostly it was a quick chat, held over my paperwork.

And I think I got in.

Well, more than think, at one point I noticed the way she was talking was as if I was in. So I asked if I was, in fact, accepted. And she said yes, I have been accepted to my university's exchange program because no flags in my paperwork, nothing beyond a missed signature from my faculty. Which is not a guarantee I'll go on exchange, I still have to be accepted at a host university. But it means they'll be trying to get me to one of those and they want me to go overseas.

It's a step. A big step.

If everything goes to plan, in six months or so, I could be living in England. It hasn't really sunk in.

I wonder when it will.

International Exchange

I have an interview for International Exchange.

Oh gosh, I've got an interview.

I'm going to go freak out over there, don't mind me.

Day Six

It's about halfway through the time my parents are away for and I'm not sure if I miss them or want them to stay away longer.

On the one hand, I'm really enjoying having the house to myself (practically). I can get up when I want or need to, I can do what I want without having to plan around the possibility they'll need or want me to do something. I can get things done in my own time, without worrying they'll think I'm taking too long and do it themselves while grumbling at me.

But on the other hand, it's exhausting being responsible. I don't know if I'm doing things right, or if I'm forgetting to do anything. My brother is a step away from useless, seemingly capable only of remembering to feed himself and occasionally watch the dog. I'm running the house while trying to also get myself back into the swing of uni and I've no idea if I'm letting things slide through the cracks.

I also think I'm lonely. The house is dead quiet and my brother is always in his room. The dog is only good for company half the time and there's only so much my music can do to chase away the quietness. It's nothing like my usual nights, spent sitting beside a sleeping Dad who, while asleep, is still actually there.

I'll handle it. I've not much of a choice really.

(And in other news, I get to see Benedict Cumberbatch in April and maybe (if they don't sell out) get a photograph with him!!!! So excited.)

Home Sweet Home!

My parents have finally gone on their 12 day cruise and left my brother and I to watch the house, and the dog, while they are away. For the next 12 days or so, the only yelling will be my brother and I fighting which is easily resolved by a closed door. I won't be talked at by a mother oblivious to my disinterest and I will be free to enjoy peace and quiet at nights, when my brother is in his room.

That's not to say it's going to be easy. They've left us money to live on but it's really not going to cover what we are going to need- it boils down to a few dollars a day each for all three meals. We'll have to handle household chores which is to say I'll have to handle them until I yell at my brother to do his fair share. My parents are terrified I'm going to stave the dog, which is impossible when the silly thing comes up and begs at you if he's hungry but I am worried my brother will ignore him and let him get into mischief the few days I have to be places when he doesn't.

Basically we're getting a trial run of what it means to live away from home. Last time this happened, the hot water heater blew up (no fault of ours). I'm not sure I'm ready for it. But I'll survive.

In other news, I'm one form away from completing my exchange. I just need to fill it out and locate my enrolment record and I'm sweet- with the deadline not until next Friday, I am very confident I will get this in. While I had to make a snap decision for my third choice university, I am beginning to warm to the idea of studying in Sweden and would not be disappointed if I ended up there. 

Even if it is freezing cold.

I'm Sick

Firstly, I am literally sick. My inconsiderate Dad gave me his cold after he refused to cover his mouth when coughing or sneezing. Somehow I am still getting no sympathy- Mum is all about not letting it get me down and fighting through it, which is stupid when all I want to do is stay in bed and not do anything; while Dad keeps trying to make me go do physical activities when I can't actually breath through my nose.

But I am also sick of my parents. I know they're awesome, they do things for me most other parents don't seem to and they never rarely complain but I am really getting tired of them. Dad is home all the time and while I know it's helping him, he can be a bit of an arse sometimes. He loves getting rises from people, never changes his very closed mind and is near impossible to beat in a debate. He's the sort of person who will make sure you don't buy biscuits in the weekly shop then complain that's there's nothing to have with his coffee. Dad will do anything for a friend but he expects so many things to be done for him- and sometimes I can't see the balance. I am his daughter, not his personal slave but occasionally I can't tell the difference.

And Mum. Mum, Mum, Mum. I love her but she's impossible sometimes. She's more open minded than Dad but only to a certain degree and with the idea that her ideas are always right. She's the type of person to watch a heavily dramatised 'reality' t.v show on an issue and think that makes her an expert on it with no one able to call her out on it. Mum's also got a hair trigger temper which does not help anything- I hate having to ask her things because I'm terrified of setting her temper off and I sometimes wonder if it's because it's me? Is that why she yells, because I fail? But then she yells at the computer and I feel better because it's not me. Plus she loves to talk at me about whatever she is watching- often shows I don't like- or things I am not interested in and I have to pretend to listen or risk her anger.

I know I'm being a bit petty but I have to deal with my parents every day. I'm not allowed to hide in my room like my brother did when he was on holidays because that's antisocial so I have to sit in the lounge room and be in the firing line. I know I should go out more, get away from them but I don't want to. I can't make myself go out...there's really only one or two people to go out with and I can't spend every day with them.

I need to go back to uni.

Before I go nuts.  

Forgetful Goldfish and Personal Admissions

An apt description of myself, one I often use. Basically, I need to remember that I do have this blog and it's able to be used instead of just tracking my friend's blogs with it. (Also idk if you read this but I use everyone as my pillow, it's not a sign I still like you. I don't, you're a much better friend than you were unknowing item of my weird crush)

I think that's the problem. I'm a private person really, as much as I like to share. I love telling people about things but not my thoughts. They're my thoughts, I'll keep them to myself thank you. 

Take for instance my last years of primary school/first years of high school. I cried myself to sleep every night, imagining ways I could kill myself (or dreaming of ways the universe would do it for me). I never told anyone, not until earlier this year when I admitted it to both my brother and my best friend, though my best friend got more details. I just did not know how to say it- how does one bring up in a conversation that they have issues planning for the future because, until recently, they didn't believe they would see 18? That for a while there they thought this early death would happen at their own hands? How could I admit that I thought myself too much of a coward to take what I was raised to believe was the coward's way out?

Well, I guess I'm admitting it now. I don't know how many people read this but it's a start. Semi-anonymous settings for the win. 

I'm not ashamed, I don't think. I still get upset when I remember the worse nights, when the only reason I didn't sneak downstairs to swallow every pill in my parents cupboard was imagining my parents' reaction to finding me dead. My fear of hurting them was stronger than my desire to just be dead. I cannot stress how much I just wanted to be dead- it didn't have to be at my own hand and in fact I honestly believed the universe was going to find a way to make me be dead by 18. 

I have no idea how I got out of this way of thinking. I guess one day I went to sleep knowing that I had not imagined my death for an entire week! That I had friends, actual friends, who cared for me and weren't going to tell me they didn't want to hang out with me (Something that has happened to me at least twice). Now when I imagined my death (which I did still do) I imagined their reactions to my death as well as my family's. One more reason to stay. I turned 18, my god I cannot stress how much turning 18 helped. Knowing I had made it, against imagined odds I'll admit but still against odds, was such a huge boost. I have things to live for, some of them silly but most of them not.

I've not imagined myself dying, planning out every detail of how it would happen and how my family would feel, in a very long time. It's a good feeling. Sure I still have gloomy thoughts but never do I go to sleep at night crying after imagining how the car trip tomorrow will kill me.

I think it's fitting I'm seeing 2013 out with this admission. It's something I've wanted to say for a long time but never had the words. I don't know if I've got the words now but it's a start. 

Don't judge me, I'm happy now.