The World is Sick

That sounds like something an Axis spy would say.

So. It’s been several weeks. My report has been written, cut and submitted. All the other junk has also been taken care of. I’m finally free(-er). Now I can waste time on the internet without guilt, as opposed to before, when I did the exact same thing but had a whiny voice in the back of my head telling me to do something productive.

The Axis of Awesome concert was great. It was the first time I had ever actually been to a performance that didn’t have brass instruments in it. A little pricey for my taste, but definitely worth it.

In a little less than two weeks, I’ll be flying off to Sydney. I haven’t made any packing plans yet, or bought insurance. My parents keep badgering me to do something about that. It’s really annoying, but I probably should.

As always, I am posting because I finally have something new to complain about. In this case, it’s not particularly new on my end. It has been going on for months and months, which is what warrants a long, poorly-thought out rant with changing tenses and an obvious I-had-a-thesaurus feel.

My elder brother broke up with his girlfriend in March. Maybe it was January. It could have been in 2008 for all I know. Or care. I never really got involved with the affairs of my family members. I have always felt that they were pointless and annoying, kind of like art critics and Literature majors. In any case, the affairs of my brother have stretched on from as far as I can remember till today, blending together to form a mind-numbing mix of whining and yelling and crying.

So yeah, girlfriend thing. At first, it was perfectly understandable. Well, it would have been, if I had ever put a thought to it. Some weeks later(I’m just making up lengths of time here, because I don’t remember any more), he starts to ask my parents for advice. Being him, he refused to accept anything they said. Being them, my parents never gave him consistent advice. To be perfectly honest, the entire thing looked like a disaster from the start.

I thought that he might get over it within a month or so, but I forgot that the philosophy of “fuck it, let’s get a beer” doesn’t exist in this family. Every goddamned Sunday, he comes up with some new variation of “what should I do?”. It has somehow evolved into “what am I supposed to learn from this?”, which wouldn’t be so bad, except that he’s clearly just not letting go, and this is just another excuse to keep talking about it.

To make matters worse, my mother has been terrible at handling this. At some point, being a devout Catholic, she must have said something about letting God guide him through. However, my brother is an obsessive, eccentric musician who also somehow has a mind for mathematics. The contradictory, “go as you feel, but do THIS” type of advice that my mother has been providing simply does not mix well with my brother. By attempting to apply logic to divinity, he has only made himself more confused, and the rest of us more agitated.

Oh, and listening. No one listens to each other. When I’m not tired enough to sleep in the car, I hear what they say. They don’t stay on topic, they don’t answer questions. They just say things, and then say different things. I could replace half of each of their sentences with “that’s completely not what I said” and it would fit perfectly.

This has been going on for too long. I never liked Sundays in the first place, and over the past few years I have had to listen to all this crap. They can’t discuss anything in a proper, civil manner. Unrealistic, crazy ideologies and wills so adamant that Wolverine could make a new skeleton out of them. And my mother wonders why I’m so quiet at home.