Devoted Christian? On this blog? Where? Where? Where? :p

Well, as i said, i was in a writing mood at the time, and it hit me that that spinning signpost was a good metaphor for my life right now, and for a long, long time. Piscean indecisiveness. Damn the 'rents for their family planning.

One thing for sure though: My indecisiveness on the part of my career is earning me a lot of bad karma with my parents, especially my mom. Another debacle was set off again just tonight regarding this issue. Bear with me while I rant. Though then again, it is my blog so what am I apologizing for? :p

It started out with me coming home and my mom asking me for money to pay that damned cleaner woman. Me with me humongous mouth said, "I'm not paying if she's going to rearrange my things again." Which set my mother off on another menopausal fit. You never take care of your room rant rant tell you to do so many times you never do rant rant I told you this was going to happen rant rant rant.

Er, I don't wanna rant out all my dirty laundry here, so let's just say, IT WAS BAD. Strange that my mom would care so much about a room she never walks into, unless she wants to rant at me for something I did. Strange that my parents don't seem to understand why I feel so strongly against strange people moving my things around. Wouldn't they minded if I, say, moved everything on their office desk around, rendering them unable to find any important documents they wanted? But I digress.

And well... the thing about my mom is that even when you try to explain things to her, or tell her about your point of view, she rants at you again for trying to 'talk back to her' or argue with her. And after a few more times of this, I give up and sit and silently fume.

Once she starts, she cannot stop. So the irresponsibility regarding my room goes on to the irresponsibility regarding my work, too lazy to find a full-time job, too uncaring about your parents, too ungrateful rant rant rant till my brother tells her to stop it cos he's got exams coming up.

Then of course, when my mom gets upset at me, my dad feels he has to say something to me too. He calls me up to my room, says he doesn't understand what the big deal is about other people moving my things, and what a disgrace my room is and what a rubbish heap it looks like and don't I think so?

And the strange thing is, No, I don't.

Is that weird? Not really. It's like the comfy bolster or stuffed toy that you carried around, or had since you were a baby, and which you steadfastly refused to wash because there was no way in hell you could part with it for even that one hour, and because part of why you love it so much is the way it smelled, full of childhood games and tears and a myriad of other childish joys and fears and tears experienced together.

And one day your parents decide that it's a disgrace you carry around such a filthy thing around and they chuck the thing into the rubbish chute, leaving you teary-eyed while they explain once again why it is they're doing you a favour by chucking away your old lovable bolster and hence saving you from the multitude of bacteria on it and all you can think about is how you'll never see that beloved thing again, and how, dirty and flawed as it was, you loved it more than anything else in the entire world.

So yea, dirty, dusty and messy as it looked, it was MY room. And I don't see you spending a lot of quality time in it, anyway, so why are you caring so much?

Parents are like that, ya? They want you to constantly throw away the old, beloved things to make way for the new. And they complain when you buy more new stuff in.

So anyway, yea, another bad night with the 'rents. This will probably continue until I get a 9-5job, or I contract some incurable disease or get hit by a car or something. Now on one hand, I'm praying for MOE to hire me, because that will give me the financial means to stop listening to my parents so much, [and get them off my back] and also, I dread being hired because that will mean I gave in to my parents. Again.

Damned if I do, damned if I don't. Though I have to admit, my life will be infinitely more unbearable if I DON'T get the MOE job. They'll probably accuse me of jinxing my own interview to get back at them or something and rant at me for making such a pathetic excuse of my life.

NOW MY LIFE REALLY SUCKS.

Doushite watashi no sekai wa warui desu ka?
Doushite watashi wa sabishi desu ka?
Doushtie watashi wa hitori desu ka?
Watashi no kotae wa doko?
Watashi wa nani ga hoshi desu ka?

Tsukaremashitane..........