Living at Home

I've turned into a lazy, good for nothing fat ass upon my return from the Czech Republic and my assimilation into "normalcy" whilst being forced to live at home due to insufficient funds and parental coddling.

I don't know how any of you feel about Feng Shui, but I am a firm believer in the spirit of a place and how its arrangement affects your mental "chi." When I came home that frosty December night, over-exhausted from jet lag and familial emotional overload, I felt an instant defeat as I crashed in the room I had spent the entirety of my high school career in. Nothing had changed, save for the textiles from other countries I deliberately draped my belongings in (to spruce up the place, to no avail unfortunately...) My bed was in the same place it had always been, my bookshelves still crowded with useless crap...even some of my makeup from high school stared me in the face from my nooked-dresser. Who was I? I felt like I had traveled back in time and was a dependent, spoiled little high school senior once more.

I can't work where I sleep, unless there is absolutely no where else I can work. The clutter that has lasted in my life since I was young prevents me from getting any effective work processed; I don't even have a good place to keep a printer.

My mood has changed drastically. I used to be a very content, mellow person. I used to go with the flow, didn't care what happened so long as I was happy, and I was usually satisfied with whatever happened. I didn't have to deal with conflict too much, because who cared? Now however, I see conflict with everything - what I'm eating for dinner, having to wait outside at the train station, doing the laundry or hanging out with friends. I never used to be a surly, cynical, bitter and overall ugly person - I have changed as such, because of living at home.

I'm also less assertive, and I have developed a sense of entitlement. How, you ask? Because my parents give me anything I need. They give me money when I'm broke. They gave me a car and pay for insurance when I need to go places. They let me come home from the bars shitfaced. The only thing they have a rule for is boys - I can't bring those home. Or rather, I'm not SUPPOSED to bring them home, but I know how to sneak them in and out if I need to. Basically, they have taught me that when you are 22 years of age, why should you have to struggle? Why should you have to build any self-integrity? Go for your dreams, darling, reach for the stars, and we'll be here to bring them down for you if they are too high.

I mean, I suppose it's a good thing that my parents were never the kind to say, "When you turn 18, we're kicking you out of the house, and you're on your own." Otherwise I'd probably be in worse shape than I am. But this whole, "Go to grad school, even though you can't afford it" is a little ridick. Most parents would have said, "Well maybe you should go part time, and get a job to save up money so you can finally be an adult and move out."

Not these parents though. They secretly want to keep me here for as long as they can. I don't know why, but they do.

So, in turn, I have gained weight and am basically useless. Where once I was thin, pretty and independent, I am fat, with a lesbian haircut and the loser who lives at home while everyone else her age is getting on with their lives.

THAT's my point.

Success

My best friend is 22 and is one of 12 people on Hilary Clinton's personal staff. I'm not talking, he fetches her coffee and does her nails - the motherfucker is her personal correspondent. If she needs something written, he does it.

Talk about success, man.

I've always aspired to be famous and successful. My real aim is to make it into a textbook somehow - have kids all over the world read about me, and what I did. Doesn't even have to be something good - maybe I'll kill some people?- but I'd like to not go into obscurity. I think that's my biggest fear, to go unrecognized for my accomplishments. It seems so easy for everyone else to be admired, why not me too?

I don't think people take me seriously, for a couple of reasons. I'm short, so everyone automatically thinks I'm sixteen, and what does a sixteen year old know? I also have short hair, and it is a proven fact that people don't listen to ugly people's ideas. People are far more apt to listen to an attractive person, whether or not they actually believe what they are saying. Take the great head-butters, Gloria Steinem and Betty Friedan - no one gave a shit about the latter, but people actually started making changes when Steinem hit the scene.

I'm not very attractive, at the moment. I used to be - I used to be really hot. But then I got this cockamaymie idea to cut my hair like a pixie. It was cool, for a while, until it started growing. I didn't have the funds for the upkeep, so I'm letting it grow out, but it's tough, man. Everyone thinks I'm a lesbian. Lesbians are cool, sure, but it doesn't help you get laid when the small population of men I am exposed to think you are one. I haven't been on a good date in a while. During the whole of 2009, I went on 3 dates. You count 'em, 3. And only one of them was really any good.

I definitely blame it on my haircut. Men are driven by attractiveness - women, security. How am I supposed to lure in a rich, eligible bachelor when they all think I eat pussy?

Back to success though.

I'm not a memorable person either, it seems. This began when I was in high school - I'd get bit parts in the school plays, and when my friends would come to see me, they'd ask, "So who were you?" Despite the fact that American's have the attention span of a fish, I'd say anyone would be able to recognize me if they tried.

College was a bit better, but that's because so many kids did not give a shit that it was easy for me to succeed and get shit done. Still, I was never trumped up enough for scholarships, grants, etc.

Grad school has by far, been the worse. I only have about 5 teachers, and they never seem to remember anything. Or maybe, it's just selective memory because they aren't interested in the things I want to do. They only have about 35 students, mind you, but I suppose that's too many to remember for 5 people. I always have to remind them of what I'm working on, why I want to talk to them, what I emailed them about...it gets annoying after a while. I'm not saying they should know every little thing I do, because I don't want them to. But I hate repeating myself as it is, and you know what it says to me when someone doesn't remember something we are supposed to talk about? That you don't care. I know you must have a million other things you are doing, but at the same time, the things I email you about aren't that hard to remember. And the feeling sucks, big time.

So I've tried to establish myself any way I can. I do things with local societies. I apply for grants. I go out of my way to make extra work for myself in hopes that some day, someone will think "Wow, you are a very successful individual." So far, no dice. I suppose I have a while to go, but even so, the point of being successful for me now is so I can reap the benefits of my success throughout my lifetime.

Because that, ladies and gentlemen, is what I believe true happiness is.

Disclaimer.

I'm not one to really relish in pessimistic thoughts. Rather, I like to take a pro-active approach when things go wrong. Still, there are times when I like to get out my soap box and say the things that no one wants to hear - that people, in general, are stupid, and need to get over their stupid selves.

I have a lot of good advice and a lot of cool ideas that, if people actually used, would make the world a better place.

These tidbits of information rarely go used however, and I feel it is my duty to call others out when they come crawling back, complaining to me about how their lives suck.

Well, my life isn't perfect either, so where can I crawl when times are rough? No where. This is because people don't like to give me the time of day to express my opinion, even though I seem to have all the time in the world for them. Pyschologists don't help - they just say, "You need someone you can talk to, someone to confide in."

So I have created my virtual soap box.

Don't like what you hear?

Go fuck yourself.