And Then There Was Television...And The Last Of The Brother Crap

Warning...some language in this post is not suitable for children...or prissy folks.

I turned the TV on last night about 10pm to watch the weather. Yes, I know I was two hours early but frankly my dears I just didn't give a damn.

It was strangely riveting and then annoying. It wasn't on very long.

I read a lot of blogs on a regular basis and every once in a while one of my bloggers will disable comments on a particular post. I've never thought much about it. Didn't have any feeling one way or another.

Until now.

This post has the comments disabled.

I appreciate the many supportive comments, ideas and feelings expressed on my
"Brother" posts. You guys rock! But as they accumulated I began to feel resentful. Not resentful of y'all. You are all my friends and family and I love you. (I suppose there might be someone out there reading who found me out in the great blogosphere...but I doubt it).

No...I am resentful of my shitty brother. There are so many people praying for him, thinking about him, worrying about him.

And he doesn't deserve any of it.

Posts about him should be followed by comments such as "asshole", "idiot", "loser", "pathetic", "embarrassing", "dickwad", "fucker"...did I say "asshole"?

I am just so blasted angry.

I think about the fact that he has just taken 6 weeks off from his life. He hasn't had to go to work, clean up after himself, pay his bills, do his laundry, mow the grass, scoop the cat box and you can just fill in the blank with any of the millions of things that we adults do everyday.

Wouldn't you like an opportunity to just take some time off? Sleep more? Have someone else look after the laundry and fix the meals? Do the hard things?

I'm not saying I want to check out of my life. My life is pretty cool. And I'm proud of it. It's not perfect. I'm not perfect. I'm bossy. I'm impatient. I procrastinate (do not EVEN ask me about regatta plans for this summer). My car is an unholy mess, as is the basement and the garage and the backyard.

But it's my life and I'm responsible for it. And I always am. Even when I'm tired. Or stressed. Or sad. Or unhappy. Or broke. It's mine. I can't imagine expecting someone else to take care of it for me.

Makes me nauseous. He...makes me nauseous.

Can you stop loving your own brother? Is it possible that I've never really loved him? We have fought all our lives. I've tried to help him like about a hundred times...and just gotten attitude.

I'd like to feel some compassion but it appears I'm all out.

So...let's be done with the brother drama.

If he dies or gets his shit together I'll let you know.

Other wise...this subject is closed.

(until I need to vent again)

Thanks for listening.