Telekenisis and Home Decor

My brothers have been annoying me dreadfully these past weeks. Brother X has attempted to cook himself fries on four seperate occasions in the last number of days, and has apparently decided that removal from the oven is not a key component of the process. This naturally prevents any actual consumption of said fries from taking place. Which leads one to the belief that Brother X is in the remarkable situation of having a specialized variety of hunger which is satisfied in some metaphysical way merely through the inaugeration of some cooking process. Perhaps the act of placing the sacrifical fries in the oven negates the humbler needs of the body and thus renders the fries themselves superfluous. It is a mystery.

In other news which cannot interest you, yet is preying on my mind, Brother X has developed a special method of cleaning both his room, and the bathroom - which sadly, we must share. This marvellous technique involves hurling all his filthiest socks (and these achieve a truely fantastic level of putrescence) into the hall. Somehow, the removal of these offending objects assuages any guilt he might be feeling over the state of said rooms and establishes him impervious to any action or expostulation that might necesitate further action.

He is also attempting to perfect a method by which the laundry would collect itself from the washing line/ kitchen floor/ deck chairs by means of telekenetic manipulation. He is experiencing a marked and lamentable lack of success with this new procedure. However, you will be glad to know that he is coping remarkably well with this continuing failure, and, with a great deal of personal suffering I am sure, has gone so far as to feign that he is not acutely aware of this shortcoming.

Brother X has developed a new interest in home decor of late. His preference is for casual rustication. The execution of this look primarily involves leaving empty, partially consumed, or opened-and-forgotten beer bottles around the house in places that were previously lacking that special something whichs adds a 'lived-in' quality to the area. The bathroom apparently needs a lot of attention.

Upon writing, I find that it is only Brother X that is annoying me. Brother Y is rather pleasant really.

Several things

Several Things:

1. I am an exhibitionist. My brain is full FULL of things, thoughts and wonderings. And I can't tell them to anyone. I just have to keep thinking them over and over. They don't go away, and they don't turn off. It is like eating regurgitated food: you just have to swallow the ideas until the next time they come bubbling to the surface and have to be swallowed again. And each time it is more difficult and less pleasant. I don't think I have been in the situation of having no one to talk to until now, so I didn't know until now how awful it is to have these things rattling forever around in ones head with no outlet. I knew that I could not write them on here since people might read it. So I tried to write them into a journal, but that was no help precisely because no one would ever read it. A journal will not tell you are being silly, or that things will probably work out, or that they won't but not to worry about it. I need people to respond because I can't tell if I am alright or not. So, I must be an exhibitionist. An emotional exhibitionist. I even feel somewhat better writing obliquely about all the things I can't say.

2. It is awful to be self aware. Who wants to know about all the things one does that annoys other people, that makes them wish you would leave, makes them pity you, or want you to stop talking. That makes them glad you are passing through, that you aren't their problem. Because if you know these things, you must always be hiding them. And it is tiring. You cannot just be yourself, because it isn't good company. And even really good people prefer good company.

3. I like being warm.

4. Presumably it is someones responsibility to clean the infernally filthy washrooms at the College, but they are clearly on some kind of permavacation that is causing increasing ire in the Fashion office.