Okay, well, it only seemed appropriate to put a page up that was all about me. o_o. So, in a few sentences, you can read some of my blubberings about myself. Haha. You should just go check out the doodles page.
Whee. I'm Christine. I've been debating whether to use Gojar or Gbuer as my last name, since I can use either. Gojar's my mom's last name and that's the name I've been using most of the fifteen years of my life. That's because I'm a love child. Which is a nicer way of saying bastard. Ooh, yess, I'm the illegitimate daughter of my German daddy. It's cool, nothing you should feel sorry about. My dad loves me and my mom. The normal father-daughter love for me and a sort of different love for my mother. My dad has a wife and two other kids. They're all right, I suppose. When I used to visit a lot, they seemed to like me. And my, erm, "step mom," would buy me clothes and feed me everything she cooked. My dad lives in Germany with his family there and is almost always hospitalized. Which is crap. He may die soon, I think. Which you should feel sorry for. Not that I wanna be pitied.
o__o I hope grown-ups don't read this. I'll come out unfeeling and awful since I'm just kinda typing out stuff I really shouldn't.
Anywho, my mom was hospitalized last year too, not for physical reasons. She's mostly a very fat limp vegetable now. She only gets up when she MUST. Like when she pees or craps or eats - actually, she's kind of taken to eating in bed now - or has to pay the bills. My aunt says she's like the because of the meds she takes, but I think she's a lazy fat bum. But I do love her. I really do, she just gets on my nerves when I see her laying down so pathetically. Sometimes I get the chills because sometimes I get visions of ending up just like her. A lazy fat bum doing absolutely nothing. Which brings me to the obsessive part of my life ...
I am constantly worried and depressed about absolutely nothing. Well, at least sometimes it feels like nothing. It's so silly and so stupid. But I really can't help the dreadful feeling rising up in my stomach, creeping into my chest and then, eventually it just lodges itself in my throat. This really awful feeling of doom is just sort of constantly hovering near me. I'm not even really sure what it is. I think maybe it's my mom's state that makes me this way. Or that horrible freshman year. Or maybe the four years I spent with my mom before she was hospitalized. Maybe I'm suffering from not having a fatherly figure. Maybe I just really really need a dog and my mom's so stubborn and wont let me have one. Maybe I'm just, you know, whacko.
So, I live out my days unable to really be ... er, happy. I mean, it's not like I'm suicidal or anything. Though I've thought about it. Not seriously, I mean, I'm sure everyone's thought about what would happen if you just slit your wrists. Which is a really bad way of killing yourself. Better off with sleeping pills. But, my point is, I'm just not happy happy. It's like I was okay before. But then I got a taste of what happy happy was like and then it was gone and now I'm acutely aware of how pathetic and meaningless my life is. O_O I mean, to the people who're all, "Oh, she's only doing this to herself," well, NO. I'd be happy happy if I could. It's just hard sometimes, especially in the situation I'm in. Well, I guess my situation isn't so awful. I mean, there are people with AIDS and cancer and who are starving or dehydrating or in the hospital with broken bones or diarrhea or like my mom. But thinking of them doesn't make me feel better at all. It just makes me feel even crappier and the lump in my throat gets bigger and I think that the world just sucks and maybe that I'm one of those people who only ever get a taste of real, pure happiness and not the whole scrumptious dish. I mean, not everyone gets those really good lives like the main characters of the movies. Sure, they're depressed for a good thirty minutes in, but they're happy in the end. But what about the side characters? Like the weird ones living in shacks with beards. Are they happy? How can you be content living alone in a shack? Maybe some people can do that, but I can't. I can't just sit here and let the world slowly spin on its axis without trying to get myself out of this rut.
But it's not like I can do anything right now. So, I'm always constantly promising myself I will. But THEN I think what if I *can* do something about it, but I just haven't figured it out yet, or I have, but my sub-conscious is sub-consciously putting it off like those people who just out things off. I mean, I'm a very big procrastinator. But I really can't think of what it is I should do. So, I guess I'm waiting.
What I'm waiting for exactly is to get out of here. Here is the Philippines, where I live. Of course, most of you know that. Why would someone I don't know even check this stupid site out, anyway. Anyway, I will graduate from highschool and I will somehow get into college. From this point, I don't even know if that's going to happen. But I want it to happen so much. I'm not even enrolled in my current school yet and classes start in two weeks. It's because of my dad. He's fifty something and decaying in Germany and paying for everything, except he had to leave his jobs since he's DECAYING and now ... well. I'm not just in my angsty-early-mid-life-crisis rut, I'm also in a major financial rut. Which is why I am so mad about my mother being a lazy bum. We even got a MAID. We did fine without a maid before. But now that she's fat and absolutely unable to do anything useful, we had to get one to cook for us and clean and grocery shop and things. I can clean. My room, anyway. Which isn't really very clean, but it's MY room. And I can grocery shop. I love grocery shopping. Hm. Maybe that's why she wont let me do it anymore, since I get so much stuff. Anyway, with this maid - it's horrible. At first it was all good since we actually got food to eat. All my mom knows how to cook is pasta. But the maid isn't so great either. Because I don't know her and I'm not used to maids. We were fine before we got one and it's just weird. I'm terrified of her. I can't ask her to make me pancakes. It's her job - to make me pancakes. But I just can't tell her to go and do it. I just can't. I'm 15 and she's ... well, old. I can't tell her to make me pancakes. It's not the way I was brought up! i just get so uncomfortable when I have to ask her to do things. Once, I tried to heat my own leftovers, but I couldn't FIND the leftovers. And I was starving too, so I just had to eat something. But I couldn't find it. So, I HAD to ask her. I had to ask her to heat the food for me. I felt so bad, and I stood outside her door for a good five minutes before I gathered up my courage to ask her to HEAT MY FOOD.
How pathetic is that? I can't order around a MAID.
We don't even need her. We can't afford her. Well, not for long anyway.
How am I supposed to go to school? I don't even have school shoes. My old pair is broken in the middle and the ones Jullien's mom got me has yellow paint all over them and their laces are all ... bushy. In fact, I don't even have any shoes. Except for this Vans pair which I'm terrified of wearing because apparently I'm a "skater" when I wear them and I haven't been on a skate board even once in my life. So I hate wearing them. Even though they're the only ones that really fit me. And my SOCKS. They have countless holes in them. How disgusting is that? And my mom actually took my good thick ones becauseshe said her feet were cold. I was pretty furious. I told her to turn the air conditioning off then. But then she said no. And then I said, well, you're the one who keeps telling me that we've got no more money and there you are basking in front of the air conditioner which uses up loads of electricity and our electricity bill is high enough without it on! And she just goes all quiet and huddles under the blankets. It's horrible. I feel awful about telling her off like a little kid. She's the one who's supposed to get me to turn things off. But she took my good socks and stretched them out and I can't wear them now. And she's also taken to getting Dasher and taking her to bed with her. Dasher is my huge stuffed dog. She's the longest toy I've ever loved, and I do still love her. She's not as big as she seemed when I was little, and her fur's all mangy and ratty because of the times I've played with her and tossed her down the stairs and cried on her. She has this part in her neck where there's no stuffing because that's the part my arm goes around and I've hugged her so tightly that the stuffing's gone there. And my mom's taken her! She's taken my Dasher in her kingdom under the covers in the cold of her room.
I sleep on the couch now. The leather one in the Study where this very computer is. It's not because I haven't a bed. I have one. It's just that I have to share it with my cousin. Yeah, my cousin lives with us. My mom took her in here as part of her plan to keep me watched. My cousin was supposed to follow me around wherever I went. But that didn't really happen because I refuse to let it and my cousin's idea of a good time isn't exactly babysitting and chaperoning me. It's quite embarassing for her as well, to just sort of awkwardly be there when I'm with my friends. She's got a life too. Actually, she's got more of a life than ME. She's always getting these phonecalls. All these phonecalls from all sorts of people from her school. It makes me feel like crap when the phone rings away all night. No one calls me anymore. I used to lay in MY bed in MY room with my cousin blabbing away on MY phone ALL night on a SCHOOL night and I felt pathetic. Me and my cousin get along quite well, actually. We have this sort of mutual, silent understanding with eachother. We can go weeks without talking to each other at all. Sometimes, I don't even see her. She's taken over my room (which is in the attic) and I prowl the kitchen (when the maid isn't there) and the study.
Yes, so, I sleep on the couch now. I've started sleeping extremely late. I don't know why, there's absolutely nothing to do, but I just have. I don't even do anything. Sometimes I read. Or watch TV. Though watching the TV in the early hours really freaks me out. Actually, watching a lot of TV kind of depresses me after I switch it off. I just kind of lay back in my seat and think, I really am wasting my life. Sometimes I watch my neighbor's dog. It's a yellow lab, the exact kind I want when I get out of here. Yes. That's my plan. I'm going to leave the philippines and fulfill my dream of barely making it with a dog in an english-speaking country. Anyway, this dog is locked up in a green cage. And it's the rainy season. Even when it rains, the dog is locked up into its increasingly small cage (The dog's been growing). She howls and whines and barks and whimpers quite a lot. I am always imagining myself leaping off the roof and rescuing her. And we'll be friends and the neighbors will be glad to get rid of her and let me keep it. But, yeah, no. I just watch her. Once we had a sort of conversation, me and the dog. When it was whimpering one night I kind of whimpered back, and in the not-so-dark (The night here really isn't dark at all. The sky has a kind of city polluted glow of blue-purple) I could see the shiny glint of its eyes. I don't know if it was looking at me, but I kind of imagined we were having a conversation.
Which is crazy.
If you've read this far, which is an amazing feat, you must now know that I am absolutely bonkers.
Oh GAWD. This is so depressing. 0_0