More time, more money, more ways to get it all out

I always feel like I should be doing more. Like more money in the bank, more time killed actually doing something besides sleeping and waiting for something to happen, productivity, published work, more STUFF and ways to put myself out there actually adds up to a life well lived–

(Okay, baby’s crying. gotta go.)

So there, I keep feeling like I always have to be puttering around and keeping busy because this, in some way, validates my existence. Like most women, I have an extremely thick copus collosum which makes it perfectly natural for me to multi-task. Focusing on one single thing makes me uncomfortable.
Like this blog entry, as I was typing this I had to run out and tend to my baby brother who was screaming his lungs out in the bathroom.
My brother’s another story. He’s hit his emo/existential crisis a decade too early and in his words, he “doesn’t want to do anything.” He claims he’s tired, not physically, but of life itself. He doesn’t want to take a bath, eat, or brush his teeth because good hygiene and adequate nutrition can be equated with succumbing to the norms that maintain his place in sane society.
And he doesn’t want that. He’s only 6 and he doesn’t want that. We can’t even bribe him with toys and TV anymore because he doesn’t want any of those either. He just wants to do nothing (besides maybe wallow in self-pity).

The clincher is that dealing with him is time consuming and tiring. Afterwards, our (me and my sister’s) efforts prove fruitless and we’re actually tired. Not average “Oh, I just went for a jog around the block” tired, but shoveling coal on the White Star line tired (Haha I’m reading an essay about the Titanic).

I’m not exactly one to talk about raising kids, I guess it’s a different story when you grow one in your own ovaries and shove it out and put it through college. Me, I’m just a much, much older sister in a series of slightly vague relationships. A while ago during one of Budi’s temper tantrums he screamed at me that I’m “not his mother” to which I exhaustedly shot back that “No one here is your mother” which I’m still feeling really bad about.
But it’s true. I just don’t want to give the kid issues because even I’m having trouble dealing with my own–and I’m 22.
Anyway, screw everything I said about feeling like I’m not doing anything with my life. There are three of us here, plus one yaya, and we still can’t seem to get this whole child reaing thing right.

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