I like to believe that I’m a fairly tolerant, easy-going person.
Like everyone else, I have my flaws. I usually wouldn’t rant about these things. I’d just let it slide off my back and quack a little. But I think I’ve reached my limit. My tolerance is wearing down. I’m soon going to sit all these people down and give them the talk of their lives. It’d be wasted on them, I know, but maybe it’d make me feel better.
Those here who know me also know that it takes a LOT to get me to explode, and that I do it maybe once every year at most.
Now onto the venting.
I share my living space with an interesting individual. He’s nice, most of the time, but he has some serious ego issues.
You have to understand… This mamma’s boy has been living under his mother’s skirt until the age of 27 and a half. Never left home for more than 3 weeks. And when he did, he ran out of cash on his trip and his mommy wired him some money. He’s the center of the world in his family. The sun shines out of his ass. He shits pure diamonds, you know. And it doesn’t stink. I’m sure his pooper (that was for you, lno) is studded with sapphires or something. His mother calls him “My Treasure”. Tells you a lot. Whatever comes out of his mouth is both true and brilliant (Bwaaa ha ha ha), and he tries very hard to impress people with his geeeeeenius – because he can quote a few things in Latin, see, because he’s an archaeologist (with a capital A, I suppose). I don’t know how taking one Archaeology class and going on one dig as a student slave count as being “an Archaeologist”, but hey, what do I know.
Meanwhile, they shit on his little sister, because she’s (quote) “Not as bright as her brother, but that’s okay, she’s got other talents!”… in truth, she’s far more emotionally and intellectually bright than her brother, she just lacks all forms of confidence and support… because he’s sucked it out of her by being a mean asshole all her life. Mean asshole who shits pure gold, whose mother thinks is always right. I’m sure his coprolites will be worth a fortune someday.
I side with the little sister often, trying to explain that what they’re doing to her is pretty much causing her harm. I can’t even begin to tell you how many nights she’s spent sitting on the edge of my bed, crying, because she gets no support for her dreams and projects. They still make fun of her because she got her degree in Human Kinetics and “Loisir” – as if it’s a Mickey Mouse program, which it’s not! She did a lot of work in psychology, and in urban planning… she’s got many good, solid skills for the workforce! AND she’s one hell of a leader, if given the chance. She would have made an excellent EMT because of the way she can handle volatile situations. She’s responsible, she’s got her life in order, she’s financially independent… Why the fuck do they not support her a little? She was off to the army earlier this year, for an interview (her dream is to join the military) and NO ONE in her family could go drop her off/pick her up at the airport. This was an important step in her life – but they (the parents) couldn’t put their “weekend at the cottage” – which they do every weekend) plans on hold for their child. If it had been the son, though, you can bet your ass that everyone, including the grandmother and aunts, would have been there.
What crushed the girl’s heart was that her mother, who didn’t come to pick her up, came back into town the following day to meet with a client (she’s in real estate)… couldn’t free up her schedule for two hours to pick up her daughter after this important experience, but could for a fucking client. Now we know where the son gets his “Me me me me me!” attitude from. See, the mother has nothing to gain with the daughter, but she perceives the gain of prestige through her boy. So she’ll milk it for what it’s worth. And the cycle feeds itself.
If there was ever a case of l’enfant roi (the child king) phenomenon, it’s this. Fucking sad. He needs to grow up, and fast. The world isn’t always going to be at his service, nor will he get to continue putting down the “little people” (as he calls them). He wants to rub shoulders with the rich and powerful, and shit on the rest of us, because in his family, it’s all about power and prestige. He’s a fucking government drone, for crissakes, not a high-powered consultant as he’d like us all to believe.
sigh
I get caught in the middle of this because, you see, I’m not good enough to be sharing space with the Golden Child. I’m an… artist! Eep! That means that I’m weird. And absent-minded. That’s bad for his image, for his prestige! Gods, what will people think! He’s associating with this… artist! If only I’d be working full time for the university, that’d be okay because that’… prestigious. But as a lowly music/drama/voice teacher who sometimes still performs? Gods. I’m way up there with the maids and the butlers… except for the part that I work in one of the most “prestigious” neighborhoods in the country. But see, his mommy dearest doesn’t understand why I don’t mix with those people (who are my employers) and take advantage of my position as their child’s music teacher to my advantage to move UP in the world. It’s just… NOT ME, for Christ’s sake. NO, I won’t set up your son with some of those families, even if it would help his career. I do this for the kids – they’re what fuel the love I have for my work, whether or not their parents have money. When the housemate’s mother found out where I was teaching, her first comment to me was “Wow, you must get really nice Christmas presents.” I choked on my coffee. It’s all about power. Prestige. Fuck that.
This year, I asked that the parents not give me any gifts, but instead make a donation to the local women’s shelter, or to the Ronald McDonald House (in honor of Naomi Faux, Roadwalker’s daughter).
So mommy-dearest is making my life miserable right now. She just wants me out of her son’s hair, you see, because I’m seriously cramping his style. And throwing off his groove. What she doesn’t know is that though he wants to play with the Big Boys, he doesn’t blend in well with them. Lord knows I’ve accompanied him to functions before, and trust me, it was more sad than scary. He’s obviously too full of himself to realize that he’s making a fool of himself, and that they are more annoyed by him than interested in what he’s trying to say about his power over the “little people” (yes, that’s what he calls the rest of us).
I know I should just put it all on ignore and simply move on with my little life. There are just times when I could kill them all. I mostly find it just annoying… but they’re all really hurting others, and THAT gets to me. Mommy dearest is hurting her son, really, though he’s too caught up in it to notice. The daughter is getting run over and flattened. I’m getting dragged through the mud whenever they get together, and then I have to live with the son who makes my life miserable for a few days until he gets his attitude readjusted again. He’s 27 for god’s sake, you’d think she’d not have such power over what he thinks!
Because he’s never faced real life, he wants his little world to be perfect and squeaky clean, where everyone bends to his wishes, and where all is perfectly ordered all the time. Truth is, his own space is a pig-sty most of the time… it’s just that the world has to understand that there are sets of rules for him, and some for the rest of us.
I feel like I’m sharing the house with a teenager.
(Thanks for letting me vent, I will feel better soon.)
