I may be a living legend, but that sure don't help when I've got to change a flat tyre. - Roy Orbison

So.
I have that strange feeling of simultaneous frustration and triumph that comes from having just changed a car tyre.
Frustration because, hey! Now I have to go spend time and money on getting the wrecked tyre checked out and fixed. Plus, I wasted about an hour of my life crouching in a knee length skirt on wet tarmac. And the photo in no way expresses the amount of filth that will require hours of soaking to detach from my fingers (why are cars such dirty things, anyhow? I'm a terribly wimpy greasemonkey.)
But also triumph, because - you know - I changed a tyre! All by myself! (All right, Gen provided lots of moral support.) I feel like a strong, capable person who changes tyres.

Freedom Is Stifling

Hi... although somehow I don't feel like a greeting is suitable here today. Inexplicably.

So...

I haven't blogged properly for a while, which I feel mildly guilty about - spring has arrived (in a strange clownish way) and I haven't cleaned out anything, much less my great mental store of bloggable things unblogged. Such a strange place today. And recently in general. I don't know if I'm happy or not, which I guess means not; procrastination is reigning sovereign over my life at this very minute, which is why I'm here, I guess. And I only have one Reigning Sovereign Who is permitted to govern my actions, so it's rather uncomfortable.

When I was 17 I was happy with where I was in life. I knew where I wasn't, what I could be expected to do and know, how to succeed at what I was doing, what I wanted to do, and even though there were unsolved (perhaps unsolvable) problems I was content to do my best and give myself a fresh start - even when other people didn't.
And then I was 18. Besides all the poo that happened that year (there were good bits, naturally, but that's not the point) being a grownup, I find, can have a very bad effect on one's mental health. I'm doing a bit better this year - the weight of two authorities in my life has been lifted off, but I'm finding it very difficult to steer myself without the guidance I used to have - only to be expected I guess. And kind of necessary, even though I probably do a lot worse without my mother's reminding and nudging. (Which isn't altogether gone. I love that woman.)
But I don't have the security of 17. I don't have the sureness of 17. I don't know how much confidence to place and where to put it. I don't know how to lean on my Comforter - and I daren't put too much pressure on anyone else. But all in all, 19 is better than 18. I'm starting to sort out the threads, starting to tentatively peer over the edge of my future. I lack requisite courage - 18 taught me caution - and I lack a proper belief in my own ability, but I think I can get by for a bit without them. I haven't fulfilled the purpose of this year in any acceptable way - loving dangerously, I mean - but I think I was a bit too wounded and weak. There's always next year for a fresh start though... and no harm in practicing now!

I leave here, now, a slightly therapised person trying to shake off the procrastination urge...

It's just as well for two fellows to know the worst of one another before they begin to live together

Um diddy-diddy... A while ago I was faced for the first time (it might be happening again) with the possibility of maybe sharing the facilities at this my 'ome (I already sort of do - but Grandma and Grandad are mostly upstairs - and there are only visitors about 25% of the time) and as soon as I stopped panicking I was filled with a strange desire to write out a list like Holmes and Watson did when they moved in together at Baker Street. Things you should know before you live in the same house as me:

I sing. ALL THE TIME. Mostly musical theatre. I physically can't stop.

Sometimes I let things get really messy. And then I go crazy and clean everything. Will try not to let that happen in a communal space (the messy, not the cleaning, I mean).

Hate cigarettes. No smoking, ever.

Same goes for dogs. No noisy, smelly dogs please.

I get silly when I'm tired. I get grumpy when I'm hungry. But I'll always try to be polite.

I like communication. If I do something that makes you unhappy say so straight away.

Please like Doctor Who! Or at least let me have the tv for just one night a week :)

Sometimes I get up really early. Sometimes I stay up really late. There's no rhyme or reason really.

I will want to be your friend, just warning in advance.

*Yearns silently for homeschooler hippy commune*

And Grace My Fears Relieved

The silly, irrational, emotional half of my brain has already defeated the rational half twice today.

I went looking for a future this afternoon, and frightened myself when I couldn't find one. *Deep breaths* Dwelt too much on the things I lack, like credentials, connections and a way to save the world. Had a quick, manic, freak out. Sat down. Read some Bible passages. Learned about some people who are way worse off than I am. Still feel terrible. But hopeful.

Indecision may or may not be my problem.

OK, major dilemma right now.

I'm sorta probably moving into my grandparents' house (if 'you're moving in, it's official,' was a serious statement), but there's a problem. For one month last year I shared housesitting duties with my cousin, who is about two years older than me. We're kind of diametrically opposite each other, but not in a good way - I mean, we're both polite, civilized people who understand another's need for space, fairly neat and hardworking (though she beats me to China and back on both scores, I'll admit) but we just don't click. At all. The reason may be that I spent an entire summer following her around for the simple purpose of being annoying when I was six and she was eight (I was out of the 'cool, older cousins' club, so I think the behaviour justified in retrospect). She's a popular, school-schooled, sophisticated, psycology-studying card-carrying girlfriend and I'm a frizzy-haired, stout homeschooler with peculiar tastes who writes science fiction and children's fantasy.

When we were living in the house together I was having a bit of a difficult time; Joshua was in hospital with burns, Jackie was with him, praying that her baby wouldn't come too soon, David was driving between home, work and hospital all day and I was cooking, schooling, bathing, and caring for five children from ten am until around 7.30pm every weekday. A couple of times I didn't do the dishes when I got home to the housesitting house - once I forgot to make up a bed for Taiya when she slept over. And my cousin, without being asked, which I thought was sweet at the time, did these things for me without saying a word. When I thanked her, told her I was sorry for neglecting these chores and asked if there was anything I could do in return she smiled sweetly and said no. Of course, I panicked and spent the rest of the time at the house doing every chore that occured to me, from cleaning the shower, mopping the kitchen floor, taking out the bins, bringing in the mail and hanging out both of our laundry. Well, because I was spending enormous amounts of time at work and she was attending uni, we saw very little of each other during that time. Which I was glad of, because, frankly, things were getting awkward. I can't bear small talk in any situation, and when your life is revolving around news of an eighteen-month-old baby in hospital... well; awkward, monosyllabic conversations in stairwells don't work. Not comfortably, anyway.

I was nervous, I was uncomfortable and I was rather depressed. And recently I learned that she felt annoyed enough about the dishes thing to complain to somebody else. When I had repeatedly expressed a need to know if I was bothering her!

Argh. She's a lovely person, I'm sure: hard-working, motivated, loyal (to her friends), clever and talented - and has a right to complain to her sister. Who shouldn't have passed the complaints onto my sister. Who was justified in passing them onto me.

The problem is: my grandparents have offered her a room in their house. They now know that I'm awkward with this plan... which makes it even more awkward.

I'm just hoping and praying like mad that one of her friends suddenly offers to rent a flat with her somewhere amazing, - or she gets a job offer from New York or something.

In the meantime, what to do? Do I move in anyway and accept a horribly uncomfortable living situation? (aka, my grandparents' solution, which is 'you have your meals with us, stay in your room and you won't have to interact with her) Move in and ignore the awkwardness, living as I think best and not caring about what she thinks? Not move in at all?