Being home really isn’t as exciting as I initially thought it would be.
Especially as home means low temperatures (indoors!), thin walls, endless errands, shared computers, a fickle internet connection, and little privacy. Privacy is a luxury my mother, the eighth of ten, never had growing up, nor ever learned the value of, I think. Being home also means being with a mother whose values and personality I have severe disagreements with. A mother who continually pokes fun at her (11-year-old!) son’s weight, as if to make her feel better about her own…
Did I mention she’s a snoop? Oh God is she ever a snoop. As in a, I have to clear my internet browsing history, hide my newly acquired toys (somewhere…), sign out of my IM program when I leave my laptop, keep files tucked within folders within folders within folders, kind of snoop.
It gets old, fast.
But in the grand scheme of things, I am grateful for a roof over my head and food available every day.
In tangent, my mother informed me in a hushed, worried whisper that she found porn in the internet history of my little brother’s computer. What should I do? she asked.
I had a hard time trying not to laugh, too loud anyway. He was right next door in the other room, after all. What could I say? I shrugged and told her it was probably nothing to worry about. I think she had already confronted him, though, which I think is a bad idea. There’s that disagreement over her choices again.
It’s a pity, really. Having to be so cautious at home really puts a damper on any sexual desires…well, any desires at all. I feel like a couch bum already. I suppose it is kind of crude to masturbate in what has essentially become my mother’s house…not mine anymore (if it ever was).
In other news, I am completely and unabashedly addicted to weffriddles, an online series of riddles and puzzles where each answer gives you the URL to the next riddle. It’s a lot of fun…. if you’re a geek like me.