I find myself itching to get outside. I spent the majority of my day at work - the thrift shop, which was unusually busy for a rainy day - and then when we closed the manager and I got to work on art. There was a lady from "The Leader" talking to us about the art program we've set up. Karla told her it was all because of me, which I found surprising... Technically it was her idea, and I just happened to come along at the right time. It was odd though when we began talking to her, and I found myself actually making coherent sentences at her; usually my 'talking' is a bunch of mumbled garbage, you see. She spent most of the time jotting information down on a pad of paper and it almost felt like being interrogated, except with the occasional smile. When we finally got to work on art, Karla needed to jet home for a bit with her daughter and I was left in the store to paint and make a mess. That was actually enjoyable, I liked being alone (I mean I like Karla, and her daughter Tearzah is cool, but-) and I managed to get lots of work done on one piece. I'm never sure of what I'm painting when I paint, since I'm more interested in sketching, so I started with an attempt at a tiger... Which morphed in to a Shiba Inu (dog, if you don't know breeds).. And then morphed again, in to a very red wolf with terrible anatomy issues. I'll fix it tomorrow. Maybe I'll post some pictures of it, if I deem it good enough...

Karla was working on a piece of wood she'd found, we mused that it may have been a picture frame at one point? It's big and white and there are squares cut in to it. Halfway through our time working, I got a call from my dad - apparently my siblings had a bit of a scuffle together, and guitars got broken, my younger brother used some Ju Jitsu moves on the older one, and various other things. I really want to know what sets my older brother off. He's autistic, he's obsessed over following rules (though he has found ways to manipulate my parents to the highest form of manipulation - kudos to him, I guess), and he has the mentality of a seven year old in a twenty-something year old's body. It isn't a great combination.

I still don't fully know what went on, but it's none of my business. If I did know I wouldn't be allowed to talk about it anyways... It's one of those things my mother doesn't want to 'get out' for fear it'll ruin her reputation here in The Bubble*. What reputation, I ask? Shrug.

So I got home around eight, and have been wanting to get out ever since. I have to get a job for one thing - I can't do that
right this second of course - or two, or three. I have to, even if I'm horribly against having a job and all of that jazz; my parents need the financial help right now. At the same time I can't get a job since my current work - volunteering - takes up most of my time, and they need help so badly. If I could get three or four people to volunteer in my place with my hours (every day, practically. Which is bizarre for a volunteer as they usually pick on day to work), then maybe I'd be able to quit. I like being helpful though, it's a good thing as much as it's a terrible thing, I like to help and to fix... I think I inherited the fixing obsession from my dad, actually. Maybe I'm autistic to a degree? Who knows. My older brother is skilled with puzzles, lego, and anything which requires taking things apart and putting things back together, so. It's possibly genetic. (Or maybe I'm a big softie inside, despite the leather jacket and grumpy looks).

This entry went all over the place, didn't it? Sigh.
Now I'm listening to Hawksley Workman via Songza.com - I need music so badly! Dies.

*Tsawwassen, I call it the bubble; it's filled with the 'newly wed, nearly dead' crowd.]