My brother was in town this weekend. What was more surprising was that we did not fight a single time during the four days he was in town... not a single instant.
We just laughed, discussed GMOs, talked about his roommates and their good/bad habits, and watched tennis... a lot of tennis.
We're getting old, man.
My weekend's interaction with my little sister was not this smooth.
The girl is depressed... so very heartbroken and disillusioned by everyone.
These instances are where I'm sort of... thankful for the difficulties I faced as a kid... how I was so young when I learned that people can be absolutely horrible... and that physical aggression is much easier to deal with than psychological/emotional abuse.
Get your ass beat by a crazy bitch, be embarrassed and hurt for a few days, but you'll live. Sure, the ass-kicking can leave lasting physical scars... bruises... cuts... black eyes... missing teeth... bald spots... shit of that nature, but I'll take that shit ANYTIME over having to deal with the everlasting trauma of psychological/emotional abuse some fucking cunts are so masterful at administering.
While I do have to live with the PTSD-like symptoms these abusive moments left in my mind, it does makes me pretty good at helping, or at least consoling, others when they deal with similar instances.
The trouble Sister has is that she's unable to enjoy (or be comfortable with) her alone time. She just can't be alone without her subconscious lobbing insults of the "You're such a fucking loser!" kind.
I always try to educate her in the art of people-watching... but she's a hard study.
Just shut up and check out your surroundings. See those bees over there? What are they swarming on? That chunk of crepe? Now... try to invent a little story in you head of the type of person who dumped a bit of crepe so damn fucking close to the trash bin, in the middle of this pretty park.
Check out her shoes. Would you ever wear those? Do they look comfortable? Do you have outfits that match that shit? Why would anyone buy those fucking shoes? Do people wonder that shit when they look at my shoes? Of course they do.
Did you catch her accent? Where do you think she's from? Why haven't we traveled there yet? Can you imitate that accent? Try.
Look at his face-- he totally likes her, and she doesn't give a shit... she's checking out that hot dude over there instead. Ufff.
I liked her nose, I'm going to draw that nose in my next painting... that shit is fucking interesting.
Sister's reaction to all these pointers seems to be the same: that's stupid.
Sister needs to understand that it is perfectly normal, and acceptable, to think your family is the best company... because they are, after all, the first friends you ever make. You are not weird, or a loser, if you prefer to chill with family... and you definitely don't HAVE to be part of a fucking HERD to be happy.
We just laughed, discussed GMOs, talked about his roommates and their good/bad habits, and watched tennis... a lot of tennis.
We're getting old, man.
My weekend's interaction with my little sister was not this smooth.
The girl is depressed... so very heartbroken and disillusioned by everyone.
These instances are where I'm sort of... thankful for the difficulties I faced as a kid... how I was so young when I learned that people can be absolutely horrible... and that physical aggression is much easier to deal with than psychological/emotional abuse.
Get your ass beat by a crazy bitch, be embarrassed and hurt for a few days, but you'll live. Sure, the ass-kicking can leave lasting physical scars... bruises... cuts... black eyes... missing teeth... bald spots... shit of that nature, but I'll take that shit ANYTIME over having to deal with the everlasting trauma of psychological/emotional abuse some fucking cunts are so masterful at administering.
While I do have to live with the PTSD-like symptoms these abusive moments left in my mind, it does makes me pretty good at helping, or at least consoling, others when they deal with similar instances.
The trouble Sister has is that she's unable to enjoy (or be comfortable with) her alone time. She just can't be alone without her subconscious lobbing insults of the "You're such a fucking loser!" kind.
I always try to educate her in the art of people-watching... but she's a hard study.
Just shut up and check out your surroundings. See those bees over there? What are they swarming on? That chunk of crepe? Now... try to invent a little story in you head of the type of person who dumped a bit of crepe so damn fucking close to the trash bin, in the middle of this pretty park.
Check out her shoes. Would you ever wear those? Do they look comfortable? Do you have outfits that match that shit? Why would anyone buy those fucking shoes? Do people wonder that shit when they look at my shoes? Of course they do.
Did you catch her accent? Where do you think she's from? Why haven't we traveled there yet? Can you imitate that accent? Try.
Look at his face-- he totally likes her, and she doesn't give a shit... she's checking out that hot dude over there instead. Ufff.
I liked her nose, I'm going to draw that nose in my next painting... that shit is fucking interesting.
Sister's reaction to all these pointers seems to be the same: that's stupid.
Sister needs to understand that it is perfectly normal, and acceptable, to think your family is the best company... because they are, after all, the first friends you ever make. You are not weird, or a loser, if you prefer to chill with family... and you definitely don't HAVE to be part of a fucking HERD to be happy.
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