The Ironies Of Being a Brat in the US.

All of my friends know that I am a brat. My boyfriend has already embraced that fact about me, thank God, for his unconditional way of loving me. But my oh my, if you see me now in this world that I am now subjected in, you would think other wise.

When I came here to the US, I prepared myself to face a life without my mom - who nagged me to clean my room, put my things in its proper places, you know the drill. I also knew there wont be a laundrywoman or a stay in or out maid. Well I'm sure there is but I'm also sure I wont be able to afford her hourly salary. In short, I did not only they thing I love doing, which is cooking but also the things I could live without doing, like the laundry, the dishes or throwing the trash. Yes, I dont even take the trash out back home. Of course in the kitchen I did all of these things because it's part of the job description and I got paid for it, but when I get home, I'm the boss. Hell.

My house mates are all crap. My room mates are fine, the clean up. We all take turns cleaning the restroom without being told. We sweep the bathroom floor. We put a trashliner in the trash. But the rest of them outside my room, they're a bunch of crappy people who dont know how to live civilly. They have been so confined with their "probinsyana" attitude that they brought it all the way here. Can you believe that? I think they should go home. They dont belong here. I dont think they will ever belong here.