January 30th, 2014.

Got busy again with IT-training, reading, writing blog-articles and such. Still working towards somehow, someday, putting a course together and start teaching. Let’s see how that goes.

Not a lot of time for what else. Work is actually a bit of a blessing these days, in as much as with the evenings and weekends I’m babysitting so that V can do her course and other stuff head on. It bothers me that she’s put herself in this situation, where she’s stressed out and takes it out on her surroundings. I think it’s mostly because I’m bothered about the fact that it’s always about her, all the time; about her studies, about her pupils in the writing class, about her financial woes and fears. About how she can’t walk the dog that she got because N is sick and how is she supposed to get outside? I mean, she puts herself in these situations where she can’t cope, and she asks of me to help which I do, but there’s not really any reward involved. I didn’t opt for a dog or a cat, that’s her doing. I didn’t think she should take on the course until N was old enough to handle himself. And I think it’s down right fucking ridiculous that she’s doing that writing school for, what, 25 crowns an hour when we begin to sum the hours up?

None of it is putting your family first – it’s basically putting yourself first. She got the dog and cat because she basically can’t deal with being alone at home without anyone to talk to, she does the writing school for peanuts because she likes to teach these teenagers, and she’s doing the course to gain access to a government-funded education so she can look at herself in the mirror and say that she’s being supportive of her family, too. And that bothers me; I did the budget, I can see – as I told her – that we can make it on my pay alone, if only she’d apply herself to honor that budget. But she doesn’t believe me, and quite besides it’s more fun to be doing what she’s doing. Aha, unless it gets to the point where it falls apart because our boy catches a cold. And the noise, God, the noise; if only she could keep to herself the anxieties she feels about what she has herself chosen to do! But there’s an endless amount of bickering and I’m not at the point where I can’t stand to listen to it all, but I do wish myself away on a solo-vacation when it’s over with. That’s for sure.

Ahh… What should I do if I weren’t able to complain to these pages.


Is this pathetic thinking?


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