Milton Eddeson here. The one kids call "Pig-Boy".
Have nothin' better to do, so I decided to write in here. Again. I'm not really comfortable talking about myself, but my teacher suggested I do this, as a "way of opening up", as she so eloquently put it.
I've been up since two. It's now five. Already have fed the animals, am waiting for the milking to be done, so I can haul it and put it where it needs to go. Bossies are mooing softly, staring back at me with their soft, liquid dark eyes.
It's a rather peaceful time of day. I relish these moments of quiet solitude. That way, I can forget about all the stuff I have to put up with at school, or the demands of Haney, my little nine-year-old brother, who's autistic.
Yesterday, we'd gone Christmas shopping after I got out of school, meaning me, mom, pop, Haney. Haney started going into one of his autistic moments, stimming his hands, looking all drooly, retarded. People started laughing, staring at him; it made me uncomfortable.
Pop got mad at him, told him to stop acting like a g..d...... baby, which caused mom to get mad at him for yelling at their youngest child. Me, all I wanted to do was crawl underneath a rock. I was beyond mortified.
This is when I hate my brother. I know we're not supposed to hate, but when my brother acts all retarded and stuff, I get annoyed at him, wish he belonged to someone else. I think he's one of the reasons I don't have more friends, besides the fact that I live on a farm and have this ugly face. I can handle my face MOST of the time; it's my brother I have problems with, especially when he acts like a dope!
Maybe if I didn't have Haney as a brother, my life would be a little more in the way of normal, if you know what I mean.
I don't like it when pop cusses. We're Christians; however, pop doesn't act like one at times. He likes to curse when angry ("it makes him feel better", he claims), and he likes to whoop it up at the Malibu Saloon with the boys on some Saturdays. Sometimes he doesn't return until early-early morning, blind-stumbling drunk, or to the point of getting sick, which is disgusting.
And then I have to be the one to start things going on the farm, me or mom. Do you know how much work is involved in running a farm?? We work from sunup to sundown, often before the sun even cracks the horizon, and long after it goes to bed at night! If I get any free time, it's only temporary. Like now.
Guess this is why these "free moments" are so precious to me.
Well, the cows are about done with their milking, so I must go now, tend to the milk. I will write in here again soon; until later, this is Milton signing outta here. Take care and God bless!
~"Pig-Boy" (Milton). :(
