They mean well

I know this may just sound like some stupid teenage angst, but people can be assholes, particularly family, particularly a family that is composed primarily of people who aren't your family and never will be. But that's not their fault, they can do nothing to become my family, so I can't be angry about that. What I reserve the right to get pissy about is that they are unintelligent and I am surrounded by them. So I can say something, and if one of them doesn't understand, they will all gang up on me like a pack of wolves and tell me I'm wrong. Oh, so you don't need a spacesuit in space? Oh, Star-Wars tells you so, okay then it must be true. And the stupid rituals, like picking on each other, then if I enter the room and say so much as a word, suddenly I'm annoying them with all of this arguing, fantastic. Or reusing towels over and over and over again, before they finally end up filthy and in the wash, I understand that maybe this is common practice for some people, but I don't like that idea, that idea makes me feel dirty, so why don't I get to make the decision on whether or not I do that? I guess they are talking about having to do a lot of laundry, except no, because I  always do my own washing, I just do. But for some reason they are allowed to ask me to do a load of their washing, it's not like it's everyone's washing that needs to be washed, no, it's half a load of one persons washing, that I am being handed. I can't refuse or argue, no, because if I have the nerve to do so then apparently I'm not pulling my weight...right okay then. They also make up things about me, that they just for some reason think are true...and then start laughing at me for things I have never done. There are medical professionals in this little group that some people like to call my family, but if I have something medical wrong that I ask about, sure, they'll tell me exactly what their diagnosis is, but they will offer no solution, medicine or advise a trip to my doctor. I'm seventeen, they are suppose to care about me, and help me. Not tell me whats wrong and expect time to take care or me breaking - I don't want to get into whats wrong, but I can assure you it isn't going away. So I've just stopped telling them these things, and because of stupid circumstances, that means they don't know some pretty major things that they probably would want to know, if they cared. Everything I just said, can be put down to just being in my head, especially this last thing, which ironically is the one that I know is defiantly not just a delusion; One of my parents has always had a hard time relating and getting on with me, I can't blame 'em, I'm weird. But what used to piss me off, but I've just sort of grown accustomed to is the fact that they find it easier to relate to other kids, and treat them better than me, and take an interest in their lives but not mine, I don't see a problem with giving an heirloom that, by tradition, would have been passed down to me, the direct male heir, but whatever, give a relic of the grandfather I never got the chance to meet to someone else. Ok, so maybe that has started to get on my nerves again lately, but that's just because next year is coming up really fast, and It just kinda annoys me that a 'step sister' is going to get more support from one of my parents than I will, and I'm a blood relative goddamn. This sort of thing honestly wouldn't worry me so much, if it wasn't for the that the I was bluntly told "I'm not going to help you as much as the others" meaning that I no longer could afford to follow my fucking dreams, do what I want, get a half decent education and not end up like them. Well fuck, that's the closest I've ever been to crying in several years, and I have been in some fracking emotional situations.

Goodnight

I'm good with words, there I admit it. At will I can produce words and make language my bitch. At the moment though, I cannot manage to string a simple sentence together to give anyone an idea of how I feel. It just can't be done, that's why music is so great, I passes into you, overriding your brains desire for a common language, words to make a picture - Instead, music paints an emotion, and emotion can be applied to anything. And you being the clever brains that you are try to look for patterns and relevance. Even though there is no intended thing that is expected of you to think about while listening to most songs, you find something, and suddenly the song sings to your being, your soul if you believe in that sort of thing. When this happens, the song can express you far more than words ever will. This is how I feel right now:

I just started typing for some reason

Maybe it's true, maybe this is all I was put on earth for. But this is one big step to take, for a maybe anyway. I should back up a bit and tell you whats going on. I'll start from the beginning  My name is Jake Saunders, I'm 23 years old and I grew up in a small town, tiny. My whole life my dad pressured me to become a Mechanic like him, he was always pushing for it. I never figured why. Maybe he needed the extra set of hands around the shop, or maybe he couldn't stand it if his son were to outshine him, become a fancy doctor or some shit like that. He was an asshole anyway, The day I moved away from the godforsaken hell hole remains the best day of my life. I went from tiny town to big City, moving to the capital was a big step for me, I saw my first prostitute, got mugged for the first time, all the usual stuff. I had planned to get an apartment and study at the local University, but as it happens, its not that easy. First there was the money issue, so I ended up living above a crack den because I was barley making minimum wage at the gas station, it was a shit job, but it was all that was hiring. University was out of the question at that point. But I learnt a great deal while working and 'Pump-me-ups' fuel stop' things that no fancy school can teach you.

While I was woking at the gas station, I met a guy, he worked with me, went by the name Jared Lewis. He was an interesting guy, obviously a stoner but that didn't bother me. We were good friends, right off the bat, he invited me over for a spliff, I invited him to my youth group, we just got along despite our differences. Jared had long Greasy flat hair that reached smoothly passed his shoulders, he was pencil thin and had a rough goate. One day at the Gas station, he came into work with his arm in a sling and a broken nose. When I asked him about it he simply said that there was a 'misunderstanding' and he got back to work. I deemed it a good idea not to push further  So for a while, the two of us lost our connection, we were becoming distant all because I felt I had to hold my silence in order to hold onto my only friend. I was doing well at the former at least, well that's until it happened again, this time he came into work in a taxi rather than his usual pimp mobile with scratches across his face and a limp. I had to ask him about this, I just had to know what was going on. But this time he just smiled at me and said "Man she was pissed!" He smiled and went back to his position of sitting behind the counter, reading a magazine and drinking a slushy, unfortunately that day a car pulled up in the station  not just a regular car, the unmistakable car of Paul Blyth, the owner of the Gas chain, I knew who he was, Jared knew all too well who he was, but he didn't change his stance, he remained relaxed and unprofessional  Jared was fired that day, and in a last ditch effort to talk to him, I asked what he was going to do with his life now that he was homeless and unemployed. And right then he told me the best life lesson I would ever hear. "The thing about life" he said to me coolly "is that, no matter how much shit you cover it in, no matter how close to the end you get - It always goes on." Jared Killed himself three weeks later, something about a Meth deal gone wrong. I still miss that chilled out bastard.

A few months after Jared's death I quit my job at the Gas station, I couldn't go on there, everything made me upset that I would never blaze up with my best friend again. I was 21 at the time, and had saved a fair sum of a few thousand dollars, So being the responsible adult I now was, I took it to a casino to win my fortune. I didn't quite win a fortune, but I got enough to afford the down payment on a nice house. it wasn't until after I payed my first mortgage payment that I realized it was in an old person district. My neighbors were an elderly couple, Seamus and Pauline. They were great people, but - I'm sorry, I do not care to reminisce  it is too sad, because this story, Just like Jared's  ends in Death. I fear if I dwell to much on the good times, it may make this ledge I am standing on fall behind me alarmingly fast. So I'll cut to the end. Seamus died on a Thursday  he was sitting in his favorite chair at home, Pauline was in town at the time, I was sitting in the living room with him when it happened. I had though he was only having a nap, it wasn't until it was too late that I realized he wasn't breathing. The Funeral was three days later, Seamus sure did have a lot of people who cared about him, there were flowers and singing, and the sharing of stories of Seamus being Seamus, two days later Pauline followed her husband to the grave, it wasn't a suicide or anything, she just missed her dear old husband that much. God, I wish I could care that much about someone and all that crap. I moved away shortly after, I had no intention of meeting the dusty new neighbors.

By the time I was twenty three I finally got into University, and was doing alright for myself, I was studying law and accounting, but I untimely grew to hate law and became an accountant instead, I was an apprentice book keeper at some retarded company that had cubicles and everything. That was where I found my true calling, I had been a christian my whole life, but I wasn't so big on the community stuff. But whilst working at this stupid place I met a girl, her name was Melissa and we fell in love, so much so that she broke her vow to celibacy till marriage for me. Shortly after, she felt so guilty she asked for forgiveness from the lord and left the country to do missionary work. On my twenty third birthday I did the same, Not that I was following her, because I wasn't, I needed this for myself, I needed to experience the world and get some perspective, while at the same time helping others on the path. I ended up in America after it all was over, nearly twenty three, but not quite, I wasn't just In america, I was trapped there, while I was away doing the 'lords work' my bank went under, I lost everything. I called home, to ask for help, I needed to get back home, when I did, I found out that my mother had committed suicide after miscarrying my brother, my dad had tried to contact me for nearly a year, but Since I was overseas he could never reach me. That was yesterday, and here I am now, ready to end it all, because where is he? Where is the God I worshiped all this time and did all that work for? Doesn't he care about me at all? Everyone I every loved is gone, everyone. Now I am back at square one, the same place I was when I started my journey, except this time I am in a strange country, trapped, and unable to get a job because of my shitty visa, and if that's not enough, I can't simply get taken home my the government because, being a missionary and all, the American government though I was a good enough guy to deserve to stay here as long as I want, but not good enough to work here. This is total Bull crap! Melissa is married, she met a guy on her adventures to third world countries, a nice Christian man. SHE is living her happily ever after now. Why not me? I deserve some happiness, don't I?

Whut?

I have to edit a short film today, but I'm just not feeling it. That may sound stupid but I don't think I'm up to it at the moment. I think that if I were to edit it now, then it would be a very different film to what it should be, and that is not good at all. You can often see that in Television shows and the like, there would be episodes, or sections, where the style completely changes to very happy or sad, because of the state of mind of the director or writer or editor. I don't want that to be evident. I don't want people to see these things about me.

Staying here seems like whats going to happen. I guess I forgot that I am not destined for exceptional things, I am just one of those people who's place in this world is a mundane, underpaying job that progresses me from day to monotonous day. So no, I will not be doing anything exciting, because I wont be doing anything that actually matters. I am replaceable, it sounds depressing, I know, but I think it is oddly motivating, if i am replaceable then I better not put myself in a situation to be replaced. Everyone is the same like that. Nobody  is unreplaceable, that would be ridicules, if anything, people can always be replaced with someone better. Hm, I appear to have gone off on a tangent...I forget where I was going with this. 

Theres not much time left, a few weeks maybe, then everyone is just going to up and go. Leaving me behind, I guess the only thing I can do is make it last, and enjoy it while its here, and when the time does come, I can't, or rather, shouldn't, let the people who do stick around drift.

I don't even know what I'm on about anymore.

Hey Blog, I sorta forgot about you...

Hello my lovely blog that I have neglected slightly. What reminded me of you? Well, no you at all, other people did. I wanted to see what was up, and even though those people probably wont read this, I mean, nobody does anyway, I wanna say thank you to them. Without me realizing, they have made my existence a little less...harsh, I guess. I don't know how to explain myself much better than that. Me not realizing it...that's a lie, kind of anyway. I did notice, but I suppose I didn't know exactly what it was. I ended up liking someone, just because they were...kind...? That's seems a little messed up to me.

I Have learnt something over the course of the year, and guess I have changed a lot too. What I have realized is that there are people who really suck. But there are also people who are amazing, that make you want to be around them and restore your faith in humanity, and just because these two types of people have something in common, namely a religious belief, doesn't mean that the belief itself is bad, just those specific people. This is coming across wrong, I know it. What I want to say is this: Religion is what it is, nothing more, nothing less, there are many of them, and I believe none, but I am yet to meet someone with a stupid belief, though I have met plenty of stupid people with beliefs. So that's a thing.

Me leaving for university is beginning to look impossible again, with a huge issue over money and stuff like that, I don't get the privileges my other two siblings got when they left home, so the cost of my accommodation  tuition and everything else is all on me. Sucks, but it is how it is. Originally I was thinking of going to wellington for University, but since I didn't get into a hall of residence and the likelihood of me getting in on account of being on a waiting list is slim, as I mentioned, I can only afford the bare minimum - if that. So my options are as follows: attempt to get a cheap flat in one of the most expensive cities in New Zealand, and still have money for school, food and everything else - Stay here in Palmy, maybe get a flat, and go to University here. Getting a flat certainly would be easier here I suppose - Or run away, I know this seems like a stupid joke of an answer, but I think If I where to just up and go, leave everything and everyone behind, maybe that would be good for everyone. Bottom line is that I need help, this is where God would come in if I believed in him and he liked me. So maybe I should just ask people for help. People, help me? Please?

I have more to say, but that can wait for later

I can Bitch if I want to

You're are going to be alive for every day of your life, i think everyone should just accept this and take actual responsibility for all the moronic crap they do, instead of trying to justify it with illogical confidence, by saying 'Yolo'. And if people keep saying this and we run out of ideas, then they should all be shot as soon as they say Yolo, as a preemptive attack on idiocy. Call it...survival of the fittest. The fittest being the people who aren't stupid enough to say Yolo.