This blog about cleaning is not a blog about cleaning...

Cleaning... oh my God so much weight in regards to cleaning.

Right now I am attempting clean my room in my parents house. I want to clean the bath room, organize the kitchen, get the stuff out of the hallway and into the patio. It is cold and I am staying home to help my Dad today, I am edgy and frustrated. I want to take everything that we have never used and and never WILL use and do something dangerous with it, like blow it up, hit it with a hammer, or set it on fire.

There is so much history and past drama about cleaning yet none of it ever seems to get accomplished. I remember being a kid, and my mom flipping out about her dirty house, that when I was a teenager I would tell her that it didn't matter, that my friends didn't care what the house looked like, and I think over time she took it to heart...

I remember mom getting angry about the futility of it all, and it's true I am very much the same way... except I have seen how other people live. Their houses are not like this. I am a clutterific bastard, yet I can organize things according to a plan. In contrast I am a paragon of orderliness.

This house is falling apart and I hate to see it like this. The overall feel just contributes to the sense of futility witch leads to more frustration and depression. Everything is shabby and disorganized, and talking about it will just cause more drama and pain - when all that needs to be done is a dedicated use of elbow grease and a positive attitude.

There is my father however. My mom has always been naturally sad, and I think my dad has been too. Both of them seem to have bad opinions about themselves, and never had much to counter it? I don't know.

What I do know is that I had spent and still spend a good portion of my life having self doubt and bouts of epic despair about myself and the conditions of the world. Although I also learned over the years that it is impossible for the world to suck as bad as I imagine.

I know the world can be a really bad place, to tell you some of the awful shit I've seen over the years, and seeing inside people... but for fuck's sake sometimes shit goes RIGHT. That is one of the reasons I get so pissed at frustrated at my father. He could do something for himself here and get his head out of his ass... maybe I might learn something about that myself from him...

One thing I did learn from my dad is how to talk to people. He does have a natural charisma, as do my Uncles - I think it's a Curran thing. There is also a large amount of self doubt and... sadness? I can't quite place it.

All I know is that this issue seems so big and so epic that cleaning becomes difficult. I can sit here and clean superficial things, but the deep stuff will take a lot more to recover... and in the end I don't think it ever will get better... it's always been there. It wasn't as bad at this 20-30 years ago, but I think it's too far gone to ever be repaired. At least the cat is cute.

So, how can I get one of those home renovation shows to come and fix all the damage done over the years so we can be happy for once?