Yesterday, I went to the markets with my brother to help him buy a new PC. He's getting a machine much better than my own. It's a Pentium IV 3.0 GHz machine, with a gig of memory (okay, he has same memory as my laptop and slightly less than my desktop). But, it's going to be a smashing machine! The ATM at the markets wasn't working, so I had to give my brother one hundred odd dollars for a deposit on the computer. We then drove down the road to another ATM so that he could pay me back. On the way home (because the amount I lent him wasn't axactly $100, it was $114), we stopped off at the supermarket and bought some drinks so he could pay me the ret back (the $14 bit). He brought a ginger beer, and I bought a Red Bull. I haven't drunk a Red Bull in years, as caffine really effects me badly. We got home, and my mother critisized me harshly for drinking Red Bull ... not because of my caffine problems, but because she thinks Red Bull is a drug which causes people to go hyper and run around like hyper active children. A weird sort of incident occurred last night. I was going to watch a DVD I'd got out from the library, when my mother came out to speak to me. She started babbling on about cutting down a termite infested tree we have in our garden and wanted me to do it. So, I started explaining how I would do it (so that we don't knock our fence down at the same time), and my brother Jeff came out to see what we were talking about. Like most things, once you start getting a committee discussing things, everyone has their own idea ... but the funny thing was, as soon as someone elses idea became impractical for some reason, we were always back to one of my two original ideas [ie, take the fence down first so when the tree falls it doesn't hit it ... or two, put enough tight guide ropes on it that it can't possibly fall in the direction of the fence]. During the discussion, my brother somehow lost his footing, and fell on his back. On the way to the floor, he hit his hand on one of our plastic tubs, and scraped the skin off his wrists, making them bleed! This incedent caused two things. Firstly, my mother broke down crying believing that it occurred as some sort of punishment for her being overly demanding by insisting we cut down the tree. I kept telling her it wasn't her fault. She kept insisting that it was ... and that if she hadn't of bothered making us dicuss the tree in the middle of the night, then Jeff wouldn't have hurt himself. Jeff, not being that hurt, thought it was all quite funny. Secondly, my mother then turned on me, insisting that I should have lept over the room, and stopped Jeff hurting himself. As I explained to her, that was an impossibilty. By the time I realised Jeff had lost his footing and was falling, he'd already hit the floor. Still, my lack of DOING ANYTHING to stop Jeff falling over was all my fault somehow! So somehow, Jeff's clumsiness went from being my mother blaming herself, to her blaming me! I thought to myself, gees, isn't that the way my life has always been with my family. Regardless of what has ever happened, whether I am there or not, somehow they always manage to twist it to become my fault! I think it's not very good that I returned to Perth, as I am always somehow to blame again! I'd like to understand how that always happens. It's not just my family who have done it. Last place I worked in Sydney used to use me as a scapegoat, and my first church used to do the same thing. Don't get me wrong. It doesn't happened EVERYWHERE I go ... just my family, the last place I worked in Sydney and my first church ... weird! Why did it start happening? I am certainly seldom ever to blame for most things I get blamed for, yet in certain places the finger ALWAYS ends up pointing at me. Weird! Weird! Weird! Weird!
*****My sister phoned early this morning, and my mother's had to go help her with her kids. That's left me to work a bit ... and I'm actually getting stuff done. Been a productive morning. Why can't all mornings be like this? :-)