Familial Roles

I have got to start this blog by saying that I love my family. I love them a ton. I really do. I love them so much.
Ok, glad I got that off of my chest; this concept of my love needs to be remembered as I take on one dear topic that has been on my mind. But, in case you didnt infer it from before, here it is one more time: I love my family. But man, do they just rub me the wrong way sometimes!
Now before this becomes reminiscent of a prepubescent girl's tear-stained diary in which there is nothing but rants and bucket loads of generalizations (not to generalize those lovely, mosquito-bitten young ladies) I need to start over by just explaining my reputation. (If for some reason you have been too dense to know it, everyone in a family has a reputation. Guarantee you have one. Suck on that.)
They call me the joke. No, scratch that. They would never call me the joke, I am just known as one. It is implied and everybody knows it, even without talking about it. Not like they don't talk about it; they do. I bring you a situation that took place sometime in the last 48 hours:

(Robyn leaves something out and its now really bugging her family that she didn't put it away...or she spilled something...or she forgot to do something...or she did it but didn't do it as thorough as she should...something happened)
"Robyn, why did you leave that there? You know dad-," Holly stops abruptly. "Sorry, we are trying to not lecture you so much."
"Wait, its a family endeavor to not lecture me so much?" I asked in disgust.
She smiled and chuckled. "Don't take it personally. We are just trying."

Now I ask myself how it is that I missed the family addressing this important endeavor. Did they just wait around all day until I finally took a shower and then discussed how they can deal with "my problem." Did they wake up Christmas morning while I was asleep and previewed the presents while discussing how they can assist me in my times of trial (AKA the last 7,625 days- I just checked how many days I have lived. Try it out: http://www.beatcanvas.com/daysalive.asp)
Well I guess that's nice. On the one hand, its cool they like me. On the other hand it is frustrating to live by myself and take care of myself and deal with my struggles of unthoroughness ( I just made that up!!) and then come home and fall into those same situations where everything that can go wrong does go wrong. And the biggest problem of it all: I do it to myself.
I do not know why. But as soon as I come home, I become lazy around the house. I forget to feed myself. I am reminded of all the ways in which I didn't take care of my money. And perhaps I am like this when I am away at school. But because it is expected of me to make a mess of myself, it becomes very apparent that I do just make messes.