More of the Same


Like I wasn’t already in a nasty mood.

Brief history:

My sister and I have always been in competition. Naturally. We split things evenly – I did science and athletic stuff, she stuck to art. And she’s always been more than slightly ‘off’ emotionally. Several years ago she decided that most of us in the family have never loved her, are just playing with her, yadda yadda, self-pity galore, and she’s cut us off entirely. I’ve never seen my niece. I’m not supposed to know where she lives, what she’s doing, or anything.

A few years ago I tried my hand at pottery. Loved it. Finally, an artsy thing I could do. Little did I know Tasha was already doing absolutely beautiful work – I snooped in emails on my dad’s and Janice’s computer. Whatever, I enjoyed pottery, and kept doing it until Cameron arrived. Still, I hate feeling like that. A little sister ineptly following in her sister’s footprints and never ever managing to even compare.

Now I’m using even more modern stuff for my snooping. She’s left herself open on Facebook for anyone on the France network. It’s pretty easy to join a network.

Her little ‘status’ statement: she’s wondering when she can get climbing again.

DAMMIT. Climbing is MY thing. How the hell she can (sorry, nastiness coming up) haul her ass up a cliff is beyond me and I feel sorry for the person stuck belaying her. It’s MY thing. I know, I know, I’m being irrational (yep, he’s still crying) and irritable. I can’t claim anything like that as mine, she’s welcome to do whatever the hell she likes.

What’s annoying me is that climbing is something I really enjoyed. I loved it. I don’t miss movies, I don’t miss riding my bike, I don’t miss much at all about my old life. Except I miss climbing so much it hurts sometimes. I was starting to get good, and starting to get brave, and starting to feel competent – I’d taken courses, was learning to set pro, could sport lead. Admittedly, no super-amazing fancy climbs, but still nothing to sneeze at. So it totally sucks to see that bitch doing it.

I know I know I know. Ideally, I’d be thrilled that my sister was doing something she enjoyed, because that’s what matters, poor thing she’s had a tough time of it. Excuse me while I puke.

Cameron’s stopped crying for five minutes. Time for me to do the basic necessities and get to bed. Crap, it’s ten past eleven???


Adding later … more crappiness. I’ve apparently really stressed myself out, and given myself a nosebleed from hell. A few more minutes and this day is over.

I hate feeling like this.

So happy thoughts.

Dancing in the kitchen with Cameron.

Cameron’s expression when he said, “I want to play in the backyard,” and I said, “Okay. Let’s go.”

Sitting by the fountain Cameron loves, perched side-by-side, sharing a san pellegrino.


2 responses to “More of the Same

  1. Oh Mel, I hear you… My sister was pregnant when Andrew and I were to be married. I begrudgingly asked her to be a bridesmaid, but she fussed and fussed through everything, so I gave her an ‘out’, which she not-so-gracefully took. THEN, she decides to go and get married herself – only three months before our big day. Total upstage.

    On the hobbies front, I have a friend who totally copy-cats me on everything I decide to take up, then claim it as her own. Beading, quilting, card-making. Drives me NUTS. Petty, I know, but yes – we can bitch, can’t we???

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