WARNING! The blog post you are about to read is a part emo, part rant. In general, these two items should not be mixed, especially with alcohol! Luckily I haven't been drinking, though I wish I could at this moment.
I'm assuming that if you're still reading, you're interested enough to know what could be so emo-depresso about graduating and moving. Well, nothing is really emo-depresso. In fact, I'm excited about graduating. Shit, son! I've been here for four years and I am finally getting out of here...only to return...after...summer. Aside from that last part, I'm totally psyched. Graduation is well on its way and I am buying my cap and gown tomorrow. Everything, academically speaking (except my grades, I hope!) is down hill from here.
Unfortunately, this semester's eventual end has hit a tumultuous clusterfuck. I use that term rarely, but I honestly have no other way to describe this. The only reason I am writing about it right now is because I need to get it off my mind so I can finish some other work that needs to get done. The issue: moving.
Now, you would probably think that after moving around about five or six times from elementary school on through high school would make me a hardened veteran of moving. At least, I thought it did. Turns out that some moves are easier than others. This transition happens to be one of the worst at the moment. I'm not saying that things won't get better in time, but right now that suck. I've been looking for a place to rent before I leave for my internship this summer and time and time again my brother has failed to follow through. He won't look at the places I find, he won't help me decide, and he isn't helping pay various bills at our current place. Yes, he is older...but he doesn't act like it.
I guess what amazes me is that no matter how hard I try to explain the gravity of the situation to him, he doesn't care. It's like I'm still the little brother. I'm still supposed to be looked down on. He's still stuck in that older brother complex where he thinks he has to be a dickhead. Or, perhaps, he's wrapped up in his pseudo-testosterone rage where he won't let me get a word in because it makes him mad to hear the truth. Either way, it's pissing me off. I am tired of dealing with him. I am tried of living with him. I'm tired of him mooching off of me. I'm tired of all of it.
I just want things to be simple. I want to move out of here into a cheaper apartment or house before I leave for the summer. That's it. It shouldn't be that hard. But, when it comes to my brother, it always is.
I just wish I could feel comforted in the generic response that almost everyone has given me of "it will get better," but I can't. It's been this way for the last month and nothing has changed.
The only thing I can do that will affect him is canceling the lease through the notice to vacate. I did not want to resort to this scenario, but since I will be gone within the next month, I think it's what I am going to do. Maybe then he'll grow up and act his age. Maybe.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
