Holiday 2020 Free-write

 Well, it's the week of Christmas. (I know we just touched upon this, but I have a bit of lunch break left and I feel like writing. And I accidentally left my journal at home.) And in true 2020 form; it looks like it'll be a snowy bitch Christmas Eve and Christmas (which is made more hilarious by the fact that they are to be the only truly snowy days all week). I was planning on visiting my sister, but now I'm not sure what that's looking like. 

My sister lives a mere 5 minute drive away (if that), but the older I get, the less willing I am to drive in shit weather. And yes, I could hoof it but my poor sense of direction mixed with shotty data plan and a constant need to be boiling-lava-hot would dictate that perhaps that would not be the sharpest idea. "And on Christmas EVE!" They would say, as they recovered my hypothermic body from my neighbor's front lawn. 

It's just as well to me (see prior post about not actually giving a rodent's tushy about Christmas), but I would rather not let the old sis down. I was also planning on seeing my mother on Christmas Day, but if I am to shirk my sisterly responsibilities for a quick 5-minute-drive, I am certainly not about to risk a 25-minute one. Especially not on a road that boasts a 55-mph speed limit and turns into a luge of destruction any time there's rainfall. (THAT'S the Highway to Hell.) 

I had a kind of holiday celebration with my best friend, sister and my brother-in-law earlier on in the month and was able to drop off my mother's (and her man's) gifts to her this past weekend, so at least all will not be lost. There is, after all, always Zoom / Discord for those of us who simply cannot live without at least seeing our family members on Christmas Eve/Christmas. 

If I were able to be completely selfish: All I really care about is that we only have a few work days left in 2020 before my January writer's vacation. I always liked New Year's Eve better, anyway. 

Looking forward to dressing up to the nines for absolutely no one and drinking a little bubbly at home.

This One's Dark.

 I told myself that I would work on my next book after I got a blog post out of me, so here it is.

I made the decision to go to my favorite place (a beautiful bar that this town hardly deserves) tonight. I figured it was fitting because this is typically where I go to get my writing done. When I lived across the street from this place and needed to run away from my feelings and blog about it; this is where I came. When I was trying to recover the story (that I will be working on once I have run out of words here); this is where I came. And when it came time to spend my first vacation in seven years creating and assembling what would become my very first published book; this is where I came.

So what's on my mind tonight? 

Arguably too many things to write about. I was disturbed from sleep - at around 5:30 this morning - by an incredibly unsettling dream. Feelings of dread followed me as I attempted to go on about my day. I'm also considering the ever-present surrealism of trying to survive (and thrive) through a modern pandemic. (What'll it be today: Social Responsibility and restraint? Or a rousing game of giving up completely and surrendering to the selfishness that is the human coping mechanism?)

*looks around at bar*

...Nobody's perfect.

And even still: permeating my ear canals are the caramel tones of Christmas jingles from days of old. So naturally if you mix all of those ingredients together; you get an alcohol-fueled feeling of nostalgic-flavored uneasiness and dread for those I hold nearest and dearest. Selfishly, of course. Tonight I am distracted by thoughts I cannot deny. Tonight I am experiencing a moment of weakness; I am wondering how the hell we are all going to make it out of this thing "alive". What will we do when our favorite spots; our get-aways; our escapes face the possibly inevitable? What will we do when we are the people who work at the aforementioned? What will we do when this is "over"? What will we do January 1st when we realize it isn't over yet? 

The juxtaposition of the cheery holiday soundtrack over the suspense-thriller-mystery-horror flick that is our current place is nearly too much to handle. This may be the whiskey-ginger talking (and it may be the mental-illness), but it's almost hard to fight the laughter. If this film were being directed by the Coens, I would decidedly be in stitches. This point in the pandemic (or maybe just this day) feels an awful lot like a climax. If I were watching this scene from the comfort of my mother's bed (where I have likely watched the majority of movies), I might be tempted to lean over and mention to her:

"...I feel like the TV in the bar is going to switch to a National News channel where they're going to announce that the pandemic has gotten 'too out of hand' and at this point, the only thing left to do is just wait around for everyone to die at their own pace."

I said "This One's Dark." You came here of your own accord. 

Bing Crosby's I'll Be Home for Christmas just queued up; it's official. I have called the Apocalypse!

I am almost certain I will regret posting this blog tomorrow (if I even remember making it). I have been working hard to keep a level head about this, if not for me then certainly for those around me. I feel as though I have a great obligation to my friends and family to "stay true" and be "a rock" of sorts. I feel as though the minute I start panicking is the minute they will lose hope. Of course this could all be 100% in my head and I might just be experiencing great arrogance and in a Truman-Show-like twist; I'm the one that everyone else has been trying to protect all along. 

Regardless; I have decided that I have been "doing great, sweetie" for a while now and if I need to have another Covid-related nervous breakdown, then so be it. I've earned it (treat yo'self).

Let's drag this one out (since it feels like the friend I need at this moment in time): The Holiday Season this year has felt like a rash. Incredibly irritating; just when you thought you were rid of it; here it comes again. I remember being absolutely pumped two years ago. I remember playing classic Christmas music while decorating the black Christmas Tree that my two roommates and I pitched in on. I also remember both of those roommates telling me to stop playing classic Christmas music. Anyway, it was magical and cozy and fantastic in its own right. Here we were; three single twenty-somethings just trying to make it through early adulthood together / on our own. I recall ceremoniously closing my bedroom door, playing my Michael Buble Christmas CD (thanks, Ma!) and proudly laying out each Christmas present I had purchased / created for my loved ones. Out came the wrapping paper and ribbon and the rest is history.

Last Christmas (I gave you my heart) was a bit odd and a bit fumbley, but I still had such a lovely day at my mother's with my then-Special-Someone before eventually retiring to his apartment to spend time with him and his roommates. We drank, we ate and we were merry. 

I'm not sure what happened this year (other than the obvious), but I have officially decided to be non-denominational. At the risk of sounding like Hyde (of That 70's Show), I am realizing that I am completely over this Capitalist-driven season. I am over the stress of timing the online purchases. I am over driving in the shittiest, most dangerous weather (and in a Fiat!). And I am certainly over the collective mentality of "me" over "us". I feel as though - contrary to literally any clay-mation film - everyone just stops being "good" and "patient" and "forgiving". They seem to cease their decency (try saying that ten times fast) in their hyper-focused attempt at being the best gift-giver. I can't stand it. Blech.

I want no part in any holiday, in any religion and - while we're at it - any pandemic. I also hate the cold. Perhaps tonight I will trade another nightmare to dream of a green Christmas. 

*sigh* 

I just want everyone to be okay.

Why Can't I Be You?

 I've never really been one for idols, per se. Idols involve worship and worship sounds like an awful lot of work for an awful little in return. I will say that I have had people I look up to; strong women, not taking no for an answer. Hard workers. Hilarious comedians who courageously bare their personalities on stage to make strangers laugh. People who are simply genuine; themselves. All of these people who I have ever looked up to make me eventually look at myself with fresh lookers. Once these lookers have assessed my person, I begin my work of bettering myself in a certain way. I'll push myself to see if I can be a stronger advocate for myself; if I can be better at work; more courageous; more giving, etc... Pretty simple concept: you see something you think is cool, you reflect inward and try to be a little cooler. Lead by example kind of game. 

Here's where it gets a bit more complicated:

What happens when you're attracted to that cool person?

How do you know when you want to be LIKE the cool person versus wanting to be WITH the cool person?

Spoiler alert: I have no answer. Let's blog about it. 

I have made it this far in my life knowing that I am attracted to a slew of people, don't really have a "type" and am kind of a wild card when it comes to dating/sex life/romance. I feel as though I get along with nearly everybody. I am attracted to a large range of bodies, ages, personalities and backgrounds. So without this "type" to narrow things down a bit; how the hell am I supposed to know who to date? (I know I'm not the only one with this question.)

Now, to be clear: I have washed my hands of the traditional dating world for the time being and could not be less interested in a "relationship". But I still think back occasionally to when times were tougher; darker; times when I was... dating... It was obviously a nightmare from so many angles, but the one thing I would always get so perplexed by was: "I like spending time with everyone. Everyone-" nearly "-is beautiful/attractive. I have no idea what I'm doing." Not to mention the complication once you throw in things like: "Looks fade, so those are hardly important" and "Sex only lasts so long; what you really need is someone you like to have conversations and moments with.". 

Unreal.

Anyway.

Why is it that if a straight person finds another straight person of the same gender cool, they're best friends. But the minute the other straight person of a different gender is cool, they're obviously supposed to get married and put a down-payment on something? Do other straight women and men just hate that many people / not get along with the other sex? Is that the difference / is that how other straight peeps know who to date? What is this unholy dynamic. It makes no sense to me. 

Of course, let's not take for granted the fact that this whole blog is essentially me trying to make logical sense of a highly illogical concept ("love"). 

What about those of us who consider themselves pansexual? How on earth are they supposed to know which person to date? Just seems like a far-too-difficult situation to me. 

Sometimes I wish I knew more people who thought like me. I would love to have a conversation about this.

(and so ends my lunch break)

Old Toxic Friends

When I was younger (I'm thinking... late teens/early twenties), I went through some tough shit. More specifically: regarding my friends/loved ones/Romans/Countrymen. I will re-mold a sentiment from stand-up comedian Mike Birbiglia: 

"I don't have a girlfriend, I just know a girl who would be really offended that I said that." 

See, I didn't have friends, I just had a group of people masquerading as friends. I remember the heavy fog of disconnection and apathy and yes, eventually; loneliness. Even so; I recall clinging to these "friends" as tightly as my noodle arms could muster. Why? Because I was under the impression that these WERE my actual friends. Furthermore that I would never make any other friends. I was an adult now, after all, and school was over. Where was one to meet friends after school?? I was afraid of everyone at the bars I went to, so I couldn't exactly go alone. And even if I could; what would be the point? To see how small I could make myself in the corner, I suppose. It was my understanding that in order to make friends as an adult, one needed to first rely on their root group of friends to take them out and socialize. I suspected that eventually this "root group" would grow into such a large number (from the inevitable onslaught of company we would open our arms to) that it would simply break off at some point, naturally. And that must be why some people are still friends with their high school buddies and some are not. I did not realize that by cutting out the "root group" (or the "weeds", I suppose, to keep in time with the foliage theme) of toxic people, I could finally start my social life. 

I did not realize that by fully recognizing that I was being a coward and that the "root group" was being a collective poo-pile, I could actually free myself. And in a good way. Not a lonely-old-coot kind of way. I recognized this, I cut out the fakers and I freed myself up to spend time with... myself, really. 

When I was a child, I preferred to be alone; my days were overwhelming and all I wanted was peace. And the more children you threw at me, the more I found it increasingly difficult to keep calm. (And, if you've been paying attention you'll know; any social time I decided I could afford was preferably spent with my sister.) Something had happened from the span of my childhood into my early adulthood that made me lose focus and completely forget that I find alone time peaceful. And even preferable, at certain times. 

Once I realized that I had nothing to fear (by spending time alone), I started growing. My own character had suddenly shown - and I did not care for it. I had considered myself fairly self-actualized; I wasn't. I was closer than some other people my age... but FAR from where I wanted to be. 

From there it was just the play-out of the age-old-adage: Once I started focusing on myself and working on my own character and simply being the best kind of person I could, beautiful people appeared. Most of them through work, a couple from high school, some I even met at a bar (always the last place you look). 

What's the moral, Aesop? 

I'd say: don't be so afraid of having "nothing" that you cling tightly to vat full of poison. 

 (and so ends my lunch break.)

A Pandemic Academic

 ...More like a pandemic amount of rambling, am I right, folks?? 

I have opened up the flood gates and it appears as though I am unable to focus on much else in my free-writing. So here's more of exactly what you didn't ask for!

I do not have children and I have not been in school since graduating high school (not to brag), so I am unsure of what the education system is looking like these days. I do, however, have friends who either have children and/or are teachers and/or are taking classes, so I have a faint idea of what it might be like. 

Hell. It's like Hell, ladies and gentlemen. This pandemic has turned the state-funded educational process into even more of a nightmare than what we remember it being when we were serving our time. Whatever you and your buddies are going through at work? Kids are going through at school. And at a younger age. And in a more electronically-pulsed society. 

Now I don't know about you, but I, myself, would much rather go through hardships as an adult. As a child you have very little to no control over your past/present/future/life direction. This makes taking charge to solve your life problems very difficult. You also are very likely to not be as wise/understanding as an adult might be. This will rob you of a would-be powerful foundation of experiences that would-have aided you in your journey to solve-ation. And let's just say this imagined child-you comes to the conclusion that they do not know how to find a solution and must ask questions; No one listens to a child. Which will doubtlessly make for a difficult time getting answers. 

Whatever an adult goes through (for the most part , anyway - there is always an exception to the rule), they may only have to consult their arsenal of life experiences to find the solution. Or at least to get some direction; to create a hypothesis, instead of flailing around in some ill-fitting bib their mother bought them, wondering why adults insist on making everything in life so bloody high-up. (Is it because of the dog? Well that would explain the cookie jar on the counter. But why, then, have I been exiled to the very same floor??)

I'm doing that thing where I get off-track again. 

What I intended to touch upon in this blog entry was this: 

As natural as it is for us to be short-sighted (our jobs, our small businesses, the economy); what will this pandemic mean for the bambinos? The bambinos, after all, are our future. (Fun fact: another acceptable form of "children" in the Italian language is bambini. Which just sounds fantastically Italian to my ignorant, American ears.) ... (Also it reminds me of when I used to live for my brunchtime bellini.)

For starters; you've got this generational slathering of individuals who have the innate ability to avoid socialization/interaction as is (I don't wanna call to place our dinner order - you do it!). Let's not forget to consider the ever-present disapproval from generations prior. Then you throw in the pandemic. These children are never going to leave the house. 

In addition: the schools - and the teachers in them - are doing their best to make things work this year, but there is only so much one can do. There was no preparing for this (not properly, anyway), so I am truly not placing blame when I say: socialization and education is certainly going to suffer. All of those things we learned in school that we took for granted (getting in a schedule / learning how to interact with others) are to be thrown out the window. Even if the teachers did have time to consider such things; you're all bloody remote. As in: little to no human contact (other than the with parents, who I would like to assume have some contact with their children). 

How exactly is this going to affect the futures of these kiddos? Are they doomed to pay for it later in life? It's not like you can get these "building block" years back once they're gone. 

Although, wouldn't it be a gas if these "suffering" children ended up growing into the best human beings the earth has ever seen? 

Pandemic Purgatory

 I have discovered something while serving my time as the Ultimate Essential Worker: 

(first of all, please know that that was sarcasm. Second of all) Many jobs could be done - to completion! - by a much lower number of people than are doing the jobs now. 

Or... at least most of the jobs that are to be done at my place of work.

I had two brothers in arms fighting the (good?) fight alongside me as Essential Workers during my stint in a very nearly empty office. Granted there was still an army of the Sub-Essentials working from home... but let's get real, guys. Let's throw some quotations around "work" when we mention those of us "working" from home. Sure, I believe there is a small number actually trying. But I truly believe that - as earnest as one's intentions are, going into the game - we all succumb to opportunity at some point. Doubly so when it comes to our job. And if you aren't nodding your head a bit in reluctant agreement, you're lying to yourself (and myself. How dare you. I really thought we had something).

Surely I digress. These brothers and I were killing the bureaucratic GAME. We were answering telephones, making (color!) copies, flinging notarized documents at our superiors by the dozen. And that was just the first five minutes! It felt like I was back in the Service Industry, with a pace more akin to a seasonal restaurant than any office I have ever heard of. Sure we were miserable - but we're always miserable! 

This just makes me wonder how much less we office-folk are all doing in another dimension. And that dimension wouldn't know any other kind, so if they were then forced to do our amount of work, they would very likely react in a similar fashion as we were acting while we were in pandemic purgatory (another decent band name) ...(see also: COVID Emotion). I know I'm rambling again, but a curious thought, no?

This could have all been summed up in a sentence: it's all relative. But let's face it; you don't come here for the succinct conclusions. The ride - often times - is much more entertaining. 

Another thing I would like to touch upon (this blog will make the third today, all about the pandemic, so let's wrap it up here, folks): the Convenience of Opinion of the Non-Believers [Very Typically at the Cost of the Good Samaritan].

See, there's this collection of sheep who are just doing as they're told. Then there's this collection of people who just respect the government / care to do what they're told / maybe it's easier than starting a revolution. There's the group of perpetual Contrary Marys and conspiracy theorists who will never do as they are told, and then there's me. I don't know what the flying hell to believe, but I do know that I do not know what this illness is (as I am not a scientist). Ergo, I will "play the game". Is wearing a mask going to kill me? Presumably no. Then sure; I'll wear one. Who cares. (Quit being a baby, other group!) The Contrary Marys are who I would like to focus on now, as these are the humans making me feel so irritated, I may as well have assumed some otherworldly rash.

Head to toe. 

These are the individuals who find convenience. These are the individuals who have cut off members of their otherwise friendly PTA group for going out to eat at a restaurant (a veritable pariah!) but assume nonchalance as they host a family barbecue for twenty. "Well it's family, so..." It's not an inherited gene disorder, Agnes. It doesn't care about your family. You may as well have relations with your cousin under the guise of avoiding gonorrhea. "It's so ridiculous that we have to have contact with the general public for work - wait - What do you mean there's no holiday party at the office this year??"

I think I've made enough enemies for tonight. Thanks for reading. 

COVID Emotion (my new pop band)

 I have considered the use of focusing my writing on COVID-19 as a topic. I considered how it might be good for prosperity; may be one of those things I would enjoy looking back on once it's over. "Oh man, that's right - some places would take your temperature before you could even go in!" But I felt so uninspired and then I threw myself into assembling a collection of short stories for my publication (An Uncanny Madness, in stores now!) and I didn't want to force it. This blog is so precious to me because I know I can write whatever I want whenever I want - it had to be organic. 

Then last week happened. 

Last week (well, maybe the week before) was murder on me and so many of my cohorts. All of us Service Industry / Customer Service types who found it more natural to trudge on with a stubborn, blind optimism were finally hit with a thick, dark malaise. Those of us who survived to see this week were left wounded and sore from battle. Suddenly this was life during wartime. Those of us who had bested our somber enemy in round one were left to fend off the constant nibbling of our co-workers and strangers throughout the duration of the following days. All I can say is: thank God we have upped our communication game as a collective, because without that, many of us would have been left to go it all alone. Certain it was something only they were going through. Certain that their Special Attributes had failed them. That they hadn't boosted their Guardian Force with enough rabbit-like precision at the proper time of battle. 

Luckily - for most of us in my community, anyway - we were able to catch on in time. If not in time to prevent such feelings then certainly in time to remedy the situation Just in time for a quick comeback. 

So I guess the best callbacks for "prosperity" (so far) might be that
 a.) you should always practice good communication / check on your friends and
 b.) while we were busy focusing on "flattening the curve", the real enemy was finding all of us as individuals, in waves. 

Death may not be the worst thing to happen to us, although I hardly think I am fit to discuss it, as I have never died. I will say that in my opinion defeat, loneliness and emotional feeling of overwhelming seems as though it might be a bit worse. Pain is the real death. Death is simply the eventual conclusion.

A Pandemic Separation

Not sure how this will come off, but it's been on my mind lately.

I feel as though this pandemic we find ourselves in was doing some good for a moment. At first it didn't matter what it was doing for us as a collection of creatures because we just so panicked, we didn't even have the brain power to care about whether or not we skipped lunch. Then something beautiful happened.

We united.

It reminded me of what my mother had told me about her time in the service: the Sergeant will be tough on the privates for many reasons. One important reason is the psychological response: "We may not know each other, but we do all know that we hate the Sergeant S.O.B., and so we are united". The common denominator will knit these strangers together so tightly, very little will be able to break that bond. 

We all were finally on the same page (like that fleeting moment on New Year's Eve, except more screaming and on a more global scale). We all finally understood (in a way) that life is hard. That everyone is dealing with something. And although plenty of people were already dealing with a lot of somethings - most of which you and I will never have to face - this was still a very useful conclusion. It leveled the playing field a bit and in a very large way. The individuals in every mass were a little more likely to be kind, patient, understanding. A little more forgiving and thoughtful (like Christmas, except less screaming and not just involving suburban white moms). Then what happened?

We felt a great injustice.* We became insulted. A few fiery "WHY ME????"'s later, we dropped every iota of humanitarianism we gained since March - and then some. Now that we've grown accustomed to all the mask-wearing and conspiracy-preaching and no-end-in-sight-ing, we've decided - as a collective body - to start focusing on the real problems. Problems like missing Sunday football practice. Problems like having to wait in line outside the grocery store - in the cold! Problems like our favorite bars and eateries not being open until one in the morning. We've become evermore entitled and spoiled and in doing so, we have - once again - separated ourselves from each other. Because we have to go on unemployment. Because we have to keep working. Because we have to work from home. Because we cannot work from home. Because we have to wipe down the cart handle at the grocery store. Because there are new rules when we leave our house. 

Quite possibly the most frustrating part is: While we are all busy in our newfound self-absorption, we have thrown any regard of "essential workers" to the wayside. Past the wayside. We threw it against a wall of cold concrete in an alleyway behind an abandoned building. We did that thing that humans do where we shoot the messenger. Many of us are still firing. It's okay, though; that kid trying like hell to work his first proper job totally deserves it. Also he doesn't have feelings. Also his generation sucks, so be sure to throw that in there the next chance you get. 

I know that people think I am such an odd creature (and in many ways, I am) and I know that I do some things that I am glad others do not. I have so much to learn from others and I do not boast to be the best role model. However; if there was one thing that I do that others could benefit from, it would be to practice gratitude. Yes, I take it a little too far sometimes and it ends up being me just dealing with a bunch of shit that I may not necessarily have to deal with saying "gee, well at least I have a floor to sleep on". But I do think that it would come in handy for a few people right about now. If only we could have kept our organic unity.

Nothing lasts forever.

Although this pandemic sure feels as though it might.

*see previous blog post for reference.

Injustice

I have no idea if I have touched upon this yet, but I'm on a lunch-break time constraint and my numbers for blog-posting are upsettingly low for this year. 

Must have something to do with that book I published...

More on that later. 

What is it about "injustice" that gets us all worked up and in a tizzy? ("Injustice" is a word, here, meaning: an arguably strong term for such a subjective conclusion.) Who is to say what an injustice is? There are obvious ones, sure; like murder. If someone were to murder another; that now-deceased person - or victim - has been served a mighty injustice, for sure. Unless they deserved it. Or it was an accident. Or it all took place in Minnesota. 

Who's to say someone is innocent or not? Why does this even matter? Does it? When did we start caring about "letting people get away with things"? Or "teaching someone a lesson"? (I suppose this would be "revenge" territory, but I would argue that the two are quite closely related. And I also wish none of us craved revenge. So... same side of the fence.) Does it spring from the typical: Insecurities? When/how did these insecurities start? I picture some big, burly caveman calling his cave-friend a pussy for letting that mammoth run off with his family. "And you didn't even wound him?? Oh, man. That is weak." And now the opportunity has passed. 

Perhaps that is a piece worth mentioning; missed opportunities. We all know humans hate to miss those. How else would you explain blow-out sales? Nobody needs that much gardening accoutrements, but here we are. In our garage with piles of "THANK YOU FOR SHOPPING" bags, rustling violently in the crisp, Autumn wind. Where are we going to put all these gardening supplies? Never much liked the car being in here, anyway. There you are; plenty of room.

I feel as though often times we cater to the principal (of the injustice taking place) more than we actually even care about how we were "injustice'd". Whether or not the end result even really bothers us at all. Sure, I could buy another ice cream, but that kid stole mine, so I'd better find out where he lives. Which, by the way, brings up the concept of punishment: who is to say what is fair? The need for a punishment so disproportionate for such a tiny "wrongdoing" makes me so anxious. Some things you just can't undo. My coffee mug does not mean the same thing to me as my co-worker's favorite Looney Toons mug does to her. So if she were to break mine, I would hardly think it "fair" to smash hers. May as well go medieval and sever a digit, while you're at it. 

Have we lost the ability to shrug things off? Sure I could buy another ice cream... Sure. I could buy another ice cream. I think I'll do just that. 

And on with your day!

You've saved time, effort/energy, brain space... But! In doing so, you have inevitably ran the risk of being perceived as... 

A PUSHOVER.

*queue dramatic violins and concert bass drum*

I must admit; although I do not typically give a rat's ass what other's think of me, this one does hit home. I recently was casually accused of being a "people-pleaser" and I just about snapped. (I nearly snapped because I have an insecurity about being weak. I can recognize when I am acting ridiculously sometimes. It just doesn't always cease the behavior.) It is frustrating being absolutely certain that most - if not all people - really have no idea how strong you are. Although I have no idea why because - truly - it shouldn't matter. The clown will always want to be taken seriously eventually.

It could be argued that you teach others how to treat you (at least in part) by how much bologna you "let them get away with". Although it could also very much be argued that some people are just shit. They are shit and their priorities are shit and as such: they treat others like shit. While we're on it: why is it that we polite individuals that have, one way or another, learned how to treat others respectfully are then left responsible for these shit people? We have worked on ourselves and learned from experiences and grown and dedicated time and energy and gotten things done the harder way so all loose ends were tied and everything was complete and no one was left with a mess to clean up... only to proceed to do the same exact thing for everyone else. 

Is that an "injustice"?

Or is it just being spoiled, bitter and unenlightened?

Presumptuous Partners

I recently was having a conversation with W and it lead to the topic of romantic relationships.

(I'm beginning to see a pattern in my writing. If it's not relationship-based, it likely has something to do with disorders. I'm a single, empath, Millennial with a slew of disorders and an overactive brain. What do you want from me?)

In this conversation, I was able to truly capitalize and convey (I hope) the following thought:

When a man first meets me and decides he would like to date me, it seems as though he comes to this decision by projecting what he thinks I should be onto me. And then assuming it is true. And then later on in the relationship when he finds out I'm not the Manic Pixie Dream Girl he "knew" I was, he gets insulted/upset/finds me to be a counterfeit. When in reality I never intended to put him on, I was being the same me as ever, he just refused to see it/hoped I would have less of those parts and more of the parts he has projected upon me.

Is everybody confused?

I hope this makes sense. Because I have more to say. First of all: this sucks. It is not my fault that he is being poopy and presumptuous and it is no concern of mine whether or not I am a man's dream. I have absolutely no interest. Not to mention most of the aforementioned men dream in 2D. I am at least 3-Dimensional, and I challenge any of you to find a woman who is not. We are beautiful and complete. And for some bloody reason, there are plenty of men out there who specifically want only a few things. No more and certainly no less. Here's where it gets really confusing, though: There are plenty of men out there who also want their partner to be everything at the same time as being nothing. The irony of course being that plenty of these plenty hardly surpass the second dimension themselves, so I hardly see how any of this would be a realistic future for them. No woman of that caliber would want a flat, boring, spoiled wreck, would they?

Then I considered the difference between how men of the past have initialized their decision to pursue a future with me and how I would do such a thing/how I have. I discovered that I typically will approach the situation as an experiment (there must be a warmer way to convey that). I proceed with hope for love in lieu of assumption. More of a "Well you are quite interesting and lovely, let's see how this goes".

I just wish these men would open their eyes and see who I/we really am/are and admit "Hey, you don't seem like my type of person. Have a great day, off to the next lady!" instead of convincing themselves that my entire frame will fit into a space the size of a Rubik's Cube.

Millennial Timeline

*this was fired from the fingertips of a hungry writer during lunch time. excuse the broken sentences and such.*

It's a classic scene:

A child, growing into it's adolescence, opens it's eyes to the mass of New. New sensations, new goals, new drive, new found thoughts and patterns. It considers how it might be able to make a life for itself. Suddenly it begins to ponder on what values it stands for. It's out of school now, possibly out of the house it grew up in. What's the next move? What's the next course to take? Very typically it will instinctively - if not subconsciously - look to its parent(s)/guardian(s) for the overall clue. This has happened - and worked - so many times before. Before any of us were alive. In places none of us have been to. Places that no longer exist.

Here's the thing.

This Millennial Generation - incidentally my generation - is unique in that we appear to be "starting our lives" a bit later. It has been argued that this is due, in large part, to the fact that we do not have certain opportunities on our metaphorical table that our predecessors had. It could be argued that we make up a majority of the bridge between the Traditionalists and the New Generationalists. Between the hoards of generations who copy and pasted patterns made by those before them and the new generation (Gen Z) who, although did not invent the internet and all of technology, are quickly learning how to capitalize upon it. Gen Z is using magnificent tools that have been laid before them in such an exponentially more brilliant way than we Millennials ever have/possibly could. Young entrepreneurs flood your instagram page. A new kind of comedy and skill presentation take YouTube by storm. Many of these incredibly successful individuals would not even be able to rent a car legally, but no matter; they'll buy one with their funds they worked for by using their technological tool of choice!

And so I suspect Gen Z, the furthest from the Traditionalists, will ironically trend closer to the Boomer's timeline (and masses of people before them) while Millennials will likely be the odd-man-out, starting their "20s" at their "30s" and so on.

While Millennials deny their fate and down their glass of vino, Gen Z watches along like a clever little brother and vows to find a way out. Even if that means creating a new tool and mining the way to the surface on their own.

Forgiveness is Fine

Relationships (both romantic and otherwise) in my younger years consisted mainly of someone approaching me, me accepting their company, them being human, and me at a complete an utter loss for words when I realized that they did not always know entirely how they should treat me/ should act/ should be. It was a real high-temper, low-wisdom situation from where I was sitting. Ironically having said that, I also had incredibly low-standards going in to these relationships, so it could be argued that I still have high-temper, the difference mainly being that I have lived through enough experiences to have learned my truths; to better avoid sticky situations by way of activating a finer filter. By way of deciding to have more consistent, higher standards.

My point (of this specific blog entry) is that as I have aged, I have grown more patient and more understanding. I have gotten much more comfortable with forgiving people and far more uncomfortable with the act of holding a grudge; of refusing to admit that people are people and that - more often than not - there is a psychological reason behind someone acting unfavorably toward me.

Pretty typical, right? Elders in stories and cinema and in the reality it has all been based upon will often bare the gift of patience and wisdom. They have learned to pick their battles. They have undergone hardships. They have surrendered petty insecurities. They have admitted what is truly important to them (if to no one other than themselves).  (...Not all of them, of course, there are always those nasty old crones who have grown only more nasty and have so become insufferable. This entry is not about them. Not everything is about them.) These Beautiful Beings; these Outstanding Elders; these Golden Oldies; within the interim of growing more forgiving they have also learned to "take no shit". When something does actually bother them enough to "choose it" as their "battle", they will stand strong even at the risk of it being their last stand. It is what they deem as "worth it". I have also adopted this aspect of the journey.

So here's the question:
What's the difference between being forgiving and being a doormat?

Why is it that we revere those who "stick up for themselves" and do not "settle for less" and do not accept certain behaviors while we chide those who "have their standards too high" and do not allow for mistakes and missteps? We praise those who recognize unfavorable behavior, forgive it, and try to work past it with the other party (who committed the unfavorable acts) while we urge the same people to "get a backbone" and ask them "are you really going to let them get away with that"?

Now, I feel as though it must be said: at the end of the day, you and you alone are left with your choices/ decisions made. Not those other people. And, naturally, this could all be boiled down to the suggestion of balance (are we sick of hearing it yet?), but I just find it terribly interesting. Things that bother other people may not bother you. Does that mean you should pretend as though it does bother you in order to better-preserve yourself from being taken advantage of? To better-initiate those boundaries? Or should you simply coast along (ignoring everything those helpful people who love you are telling you), confident that it will not be long before those things that you do find to be irksome (that others do not) present themselves in human form?

I pride myself on my patience and truly feel the act of grudge-holding is entirely useless. Forgiveness is fine. I suppose the only difference for me is when self-preservation comes into play. Being so forgiving, I can sometimes find it difficult to admit when someone simply will not change.

After-Lunch Sludge (a.k.a.: 2 o'clock)

I used to think my morning coffee was so important. It seemed as though no matter how early I went to bed and how well I slept (and how much I didn't drink) the night before, I just couldn't seem to skip the After-Lunch Sludge. That awful feeling where you helplessly succumb to the oh-so-signature complete and utter lack of productivity that only two o'clock on a week day could deliver. I also noticed this feeling only grew as the week went on until finally - FRIDAY.

Specifically 5:01pm on a FRIDAY.

It's worth mentioning that I would still be absolute molasses at said point on a FRIDAY, but at least my serotonin levels would get a bit of a bump with the promise of impending freedom the drive home would bring.

I love work. I HATE being productive at any less than a "super-human-rate". This sludge feeling? Unacceptable. I had to solve it. Okay. So how do I solve it? My sleep habits are ever-decent, my diet is on the healthier side of things (lots of veggies and whole foods), I only have one cup of coffee in the morning... maybe that was it! I'll just grab another cup of coffee after lunch! Oh no, wait... I've tried that before. Here are my Second-Cup-Study findings:

result #1: It works, I get a jolt to plow through the rest of my day at work and then have even less energy than I typically would by the time I get home and could actually write/cook/do other things that I find enjoyable. Then I keep it up with the two cups for a while. Then I work in an espresso shot in that second cup. And when that doesn't quite do it; ooh, chocolate covered espresso beans? AND they're vegan?? WHERE'D THE BAG GO????

result #2: (And this one is more often than not:) I notice absolutely no jolt or ease into supplimental energy. At best I might get supplimentally shakey hands. (Which are useless in a pandemic. No one wants to get close enough to shake hands with me. HA!)

What I'm trying to get at is that it usually doesn't work. And when it does work? My body gets accustomed to the caffeine so easily and adapts so quickly that I will end up intaking nine espresso shots intravenously to even get out of bed in the morning. I don't want that. Addiction is gross and freedom is super cool. Plus being an opportunist is just the best thing ever and I already have an addiction that throws a wrench in the gears of spontaneity as is, so I would much rather not add to. Also it's nice when you're able to keep the money that you worked and sludged so hard for and not feel as though you have to spend half of it on caffeinated products just to get through to the next pay period.

"So why don't you just quit coffee and your body can acclimate to that and you'll never need caffeine another day in your life?"

And they said there was no such thing as a stupid question.

I kid, of course. That is a fine question and I honestly pondered on it for a bit. The truth is, though, that even if I got to the point where I didn't need coffee to feel productive in a day, I would still want it. I would very much want it. I love the smell. The taste. The ritual of it all. I love feeling super-human, even for a little while, and coffee - I think you'll find - is far cheaper than cocaine and much easier to obtain. So quitting wasn't an option. (I have had sporadic days where I drink absolutely no caffeine without even noticing that I've skipped it, but those days are behind me until the exhaustion of this pandemic is over with.)

With quitting and doubling off the table, it seemed as though I was at a stalemate. I had to drive results without altering my number of coffees drank throughout a day. It wasn't until I made an offhand remark to my sister about it that I even thought it was something I might be able to acheive in my lifetime. She said:

"Try working out more in the morning and saving your coffee drink for later in the day when you would normally need the boost."

Wow.
There it was.
Logic.

Why hadn't I thought of this / why is my sister so terribly brilliant? I had had a similar thought of going for a run in the morning to better jump-start my mornings/days and give me more energy, but then instead of moving my iced americano to later on in the day, I just slugged one back real quick to quench my post-gym thirst. Y'know. Like water could.

I am incredibly happy to say that I have tried my sister's method and so far so good! I can't believe it. This is something that might actually work for me for the forseeable future (say "for" again)! I still have at least the rest of this week to commit to this experiment, but I am staying hopeful. And honestly? At least I'm getting in a somewhat more rigorous activity in the morning as well as having a new project to excite me for the week. And this is one with immediate and possibly long-term health/happiness benefit.

Here's hopin'!

The Past

I've been thinking about the past a lot.

I wonder if that means that I am successfully growing away from it. Of course it could just as easily be that things are quieter now and so my head is filling the new found space with something - anything - else. Like it doesn't have enough input / there is no new information to put in its place, so my mind is simply using what resources it already has (make do and mend!). Like when you're waiting for your online order to come in with that new kitchen table and in the meantime you've filled the space with an empty banana box you found lying around the garage. 'This'll do.'

Another option is that E shared this 30-day-music prompt with me and it's gotten my gears turning in the reminiscent fashion.

Scent is allegedly the strongest sense tied to memory. I reckon Music is somehow its counterpart. Walking alongside Scent in the neighborhood of powerful triggers.

There is a considerable chunk of my past that was not great, in my opinion. Perhaps not obviously nightmarish, but certainly something I'd rather leave behind me, as a whole. There are reasons I have actively made changes and only try to continue to grow. There are reasons why I do not fear getting old and why I am one of the few that I legitimately believe will be one of the last men standing when it comes to actually celebrating my age with each passing birthday. ("What do you want for your birthday?" "It doesn't matter - I'VE GROWN!")

I know my past has been useful and so I do not mourn the lost years, or what-have-you. (I don't even believe in a meaning of life. How silly would that be??) I do, however, often times find that I am in the minority when someone recounts their "good old days" of yesteryear. When they were younger and things were simpler. I feel as though I have touched upon this in a prior blog, and so will not swim to deeply in its ocean. It simply seemed to fit and seemed worth mentioning.

However, I must admit I am often times left wondering:

With the powers combined of human memory capabilities, defense-mechanisms, nostalgia and that thing we do where we allow our emotions to "remember" what happened instead of what actually did (i.e. "you were being mean!" when "you" wasn't being "mean", "you" just ended up saying something nondescript that brought up some insecurities you have and you ended up projecting all over poor "you". And "you" was just trying to have a nice day at the beach. "You" was on vacation!!) ...I wonder how much of our rosy-colored days of yesteryear truly were sweeter?

I mean if there's no harm in remembering something fondly then - by all means, my friend - do so! The world could use more love. More positivity. Even if it is involuntarily manufactured. I just think it begs a second look when this faux-fond remembrance initiates a kind of harm. To you, perhaps (and those around you), by pondering and romanticizing so much on the past that you fully take your present for granted. To others, perhaps, by not recollecting their pain properly. And then proceeding to approach them as if this shared memory were to be celebrated ("I really had a great time at that festival! We should do that again!!" "Are... you kidding? You downed a bunch of drugs, ran off, leaving me completely alone and scared and then I spent the rest of the night crying and nursing you back to health, so...").

...Just some levity.
That never happened.
...To me.

Seems like it could happen to someone, though, eh?

Which also makes me wonder how much of a shared memory truly is shared. Quite possible you're both recalling it inaccurately. Think about that! (Actually don't. It'll drive you mad.) ...(Also there's no way of ever telling what actually happened, so I hardly think it would be worth your time, anyway.)

And so, the moral of this blog is:
My brain is bored and hungry (and I am finding it increasingly challenging to spend time doing "responsible" things while there are so many words to be read and written) and... use nostalgia with caution.

Here We Go Again

The longer I wait, the worse it's going to be, so here we go:

I am so un-practiced, what topic do I even write about? I guess I am unsure, but the weather has never treated me better (in the face of a pandemic) and as such, I feel the need to once more be at the keys. Perhaps that's what I will ponder upon (uponder, if you will); the pandemic.

I would like to skip the fiddly bits about the 'Rona that we have all been made well-aware of. If for no other reason than - believe it or not - I am no scientist.

(WHUUUUATTT???)

I know. Shocking.

I AM, however, a human being (I guess) and as such am more than qualified to discuss my very own personal affliction. So here goes.

At first I was afraid; I was petrified. What the hell was a pandemic? I bounced between noxious anxiety and casual dismissal. Because this was, after all, the unknown (gasp!), however, I know how we human-types get when fancy science terms are thrown around; it couldn't be that bad, right? The worst part of this paragraph is that I still really don't know the answer. Well, that and the fact that I started a sentence with the word "Because".

Somewhere my 3rd grade English teacher is shaking her fist. (Sorry, Ms. Cruz, I never deserved you.)

And to add a much-desired dash of excitement to this, our own Armageddon, I was to move into a new apartment building just as the quarantine was starting to take effect.

FUN!

Once we got over that hump, it became quite clear the joy was to spread. Y'know, like a ...what's the word for something that spreads? Ah, yes; butterknife. The marmalade of change was beginning to make its way to the toast that was my professional life. A couple of us were tagged "Essentials" - a term here meaning "people who know no rest" - and were assured of our place in this world. And that place was at our desks. The rest of us who were sent to be paid to work a quarter at home fretted over this and stressed over that (while the original Essentials fretted and stressed over whatever miniscule things had been taken off of their plate). The stay-at-homes - or "Homies" - were not to be sent to a cozy vacation with their loved ones; they were exiled to a shadowy sentence of despair as they grew resentful of we who held strong to our office key. These "Homies", these poor souls, trapped in the snare of family bonding. Drowning in the envious abyss that consumed them.

Plus: homeschooling. Yikes.

Of course I cannot truly speak on the Homies' collective behalf, but I can say that the situation took some getting used to between the Essentials' four walls. The terrifying feeling of being exposed and exposing others to you. Daily tasks being flipped and flopped. Completing small but time-vacuuming tasks for the majority of the team. Having to leave your bed to get to work on time after a nice long depression nap.

I was eternally grateful (and still am) for the work I was gifted; many people were not as fortunate as we. I was grateful for the normalcy. The perpetual motion. The back-and-forth with the other Essentials. And of course: grateful for this collective body of superheroes who supported me at work. These pros; these kings among men, who showed exponential patience, care and understanding in a new, cold, unsure world. If I needed a day off for mental health? I got it. Leave early for an appointment? Sure, why not. Arrive late to get to the grocery store to better avoid the five o'clock swarm? A girl's gotta eat, right?

I still recognized my active appreciation as I slowly slunk in my desk and unwillingly succumbed to the quiet panic and somber malaise that only a pandemic could bring. What was I feeling so dark and distant for? I still had my best friend and a home to share with them. My car to escape in. My job that I am wild about. I was even doing home-improvement at the new place. I still had my phone with enough data to make Tim Cook blush and yet here I was, feeling...down. I felt as though I didn't have the right.

Then the weather turned.

The Sun and its warmth gave me the courage to sink my teeth back into everything that is inherently me. More than just my cooking, baking, cleaning and unruly drive for organization; I was working out and reading and learning and singing and joking and laughing and - WRITING. Whatever the opposite for being thrown into a rebellious jet turbine engine was, that's what I was feeling.

And that's what I am still feeling. I have actually been left alone with myself for the proper amount of time. I have been granted the patience and gifted the circumstance to finally phoenix my way out of insecurity and frustration. I am mentally stronger and better than I ever have been. I'm the cerebral equivalent of the Six-Million-Dollar-Man. I even feel as though I have come full-circle on some things. But more on that later. I've got work in the morning, you know.

Relationships & Guilt

You may be sick of hearing about my affliction with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, but here's the hilarious thing:

I can't help but obsess!

*queue laugh track*

Today I would like to touch upon the guilt-factor. More specifically, its effect on my "big life decisions". Let's start with something easy: Love.

Slowly but surely, I have come to realize that I feel as though the opposite sex (the one that I appear to be sexually and romantically attracted to) is much better off without me. Without dating me certainly, and possibly even without knowing me.

To date (harhar) I have not had a romantic relationship last. (The one longest one being a two-year stint wherein - I found - I was being actively cheated on, with my average hovering around a year.) At the end of any of the aforementioned un-lasting relationships, I leave the other party completely down. Which I hate. Because regardless of what they have or have not done, I truly do not harbor any lasting aggression toward them and hope they have lovely days to come. (Of course, I suppose it would be a bit suspect if neither of us felt down about it and treated the break-up more like a business transaction.) I feel as though any time a man spends with me is simply time wasted prior to finding their "forever homes".

Basically, I feel guilty when I am with someone because I cannot help but feel they would truly be better off somewhere else with someone else. The less I can negatively effect another person (anyone!) the better. And if I am with someone, I inevitably effect them negatively. Some people can live with this (healthy people, one might venture), I simply cannot. And it is nearly impossible to convince someone that it is not coming from a place of cynicism when I say:

I honestly do not think that I was made for relationships.

Not romantic ones, anyway. My friendship relationships are solid and I have positively no qualms with any of them. I feel as though I operate best when single. And although you can have as many friends as fate will afford you while keeping your solo status, I have not yet found a way to be both single and taken. Long story short? I hate the guilt, it eats me alive and if the numbers show the unlikelyhood properly; I probably just shouldn't bother.

This sensation can be bridged into other facets of my life, as well. Pets, for example, appear to be lovely and having something to spend your love on is almost always a good idea. However! I cannot help but feel the twinge of guilt if I am ever less than the owner they deserve, and so I do not have a pet. I feel as though - with such heavy commitments - it is better for me to err on the side of caution. Did I ever have a job I felt like leaving in order to travel? Sure, who the hell doesn't. But I am uncertain of the decision and so I stay. Drugs seem like a riot, but there are still days when I am happy that I have never experienced anything too hard because I (for some reason) feel guilty about even wanting them.

It is a strange thing, this guilt. And I am a strange creature. I am logical and forever empathetic. I am at peace and full of anxiety. I make perfect sense you can count on and yet I have these little isms you never saw coming.

Is everyone like this?

Fawning

I learned a new term recently!

LET'S BLOG ABOUT IT.

**NOTE: I am not an expert on the topics we are about to cover. As will be glaringly obvious in the near future. The following words are my thoughts, opinions and understandings.**

I have two dear friends who recently unveiled this term to me; "fawning". As I understand it, it is under the same umbrella (of Trauma Response) as fight, flight and freeze. When I was younger, all we were taught about was fight or flight response. Is it a result of dissecting categories too far into a splinter that we have double the terms now? Or perhaps they have always very much existed and we are just newcomers to the land they've claimed in some of our lives? Interesting, perhaps, but another consideration for another time.

Fight: someone calls you a nerd and you punch them. Either with your words or your body parts.

Flight: someone calls you a nerd and you gtfo, hoping beyond all hope you can outrun them.

Freeze: someone calls you a nerd and you cease. To move, possibly to think... on a good day it may come out as an inaudible stutter.

NOW the one we've all assembled to hear about:
FAWN: Someone calls you a nerd and you STRONGLY agree, laugh unthreateningly, smile (but don't show too many teeth!) and somehow end up complimenting them. Cut to the weekend: you've bothered them with no less than sixteen text messages asking them to go out. It's all a blur, really, all you can remember is the word "drinks" and something about "my treat".

...Blast. Not again.

I'm not quite sure where to begin on this, and I already have so many thoughts pouring out of my ears, and so, this may be a two-parter. For now? Let's relate.

I typically feel very uneasy about sharing my similarities with disorders, isms... generally anything that could be misconstrued as an attempt to affirm my "special-ness". My individuality, so true that I really am the only one of my kind. ("I'm sure you wouldn't understand.") I hate that guy. Well, not hate. I am uncertain I truly hate anyone, I just find those people really obnoxious and awful. And since I feel the same way about hypocrites, I shall do my best to refrain from emitting either personality. (Scout's honor.) On the other hand, I just-as-much-ly do not wish to become a bully and/or terrible individual who makes others with certifiable isms and disorders feel less than. Feel as though they are just looking for attention; trying to be special. Or worse - that there's something wrong with them and it's their fault.

Yuck.

Having said that!
I can relate to this, especially in my personal relationships. The general ones (co-workers, people one runs into at the coffee shop, strangers...) not so much. Why? Because these kinds of people very typically do not matter to me, or at least not as much. I still hope they have a lovely day, but will not hesitate to shut them down when I deem necessary.

I believe it started as a need to put everyone (who matters) at ease by way of self deprecation (I was doing it before it was cool!). I would make jokes at my own expense because I knew I could take it, it would disarm the people around me and help them relax by informing them that I do not think I am in any way above them. As well as displaying my sense of humor, which would convey that they could immediately expand the topic of conversation in general. Plus I loved to make people laugh. Tale as old as time.

The trouble is, I had yet to uncover the underlying instinct: that I thought I had to work for compassion/care/love. From anyone. Which sprung from unhealthy patterns with my immediate family, naturally. And when you mix the underlying instinct with the innate ability to put myself down to bring a smile to others' faces, you've got a recipe for disaster (or rather for... dis-order??). It bears mentioning that this "fawning" reaction is separate from the choosing to make the decision to manipulate situations and make people like you. This is not such a general insecurity; fawning is much more instinctual. It really simply springs from this (subconscious?) understanding that if one desires love, one must work for it. It is earned. And it is never to cease being earned.

As mentioned in my previous blog (Family: Security v. Freedom), I do not necessarily have to fret about my fawning instincts with my family; I don't have much of them, and the ones I know I have love me unconditionally. My friends? I have learned to just relax and accept and if they don't love me, well, I suppose that's that. My central downfall is my romantic relationships. I am getting better, but there are still times I cannot seem to shake this guttural drive. This need to bury myself for love. And as it goes, this is to seal my fate: will I never be in an equal relationship because I simply will not trust that someone is simply "giving" me their love? Am I to be perpetually damned to the manipulation of an insecure man who will - either consciously or unconsciously - make me earn it?

(Tune in next time! Same blog time, same blog channel!)

Family: Security v. Freedom

I'm not sure how many "traditional families" are really left among us.

By "traditional families" I mean the whole scene where the parents stay together, Junior goes off to college/into the workforce, gets his own place in the city, but still is sure to make time to visit his parents/family for the holidays. A remark about Junior's trophies lining the wall. Dad prompts: "When are you gonna get your old crap outta the basement?" while Mum remarks "You know, you look thin, here's some food to take home. And some money. Don't tell your father." And when something inevitably goes south for Junior out in the "real world" (girlfriend/fiance doesn't work out, apartment doesn't work out, job doesn't work out, medical issues, etc...), he is admittedly "defeated". ...As he packs his bags, knowing - without hesitation - where he is going.

Back "Home".

Back to where his familiar parents are still creating the same dishes, cracking the same lame jokes, producing the same looks, sounds, lifestyle they have for the last few decades. The place even smells the same. Dad gives him a "hard time" about living back at home, but nothing too far to his detriment. Mum's just happy to have someone around who "appreciates her cooking". They will not accept any retribution for this deed. This expected act of humanitarianism. Sure, Junior will eventually fly the coop again, but all three of them keep the same unspoken understanding.

"You will always have a place here."



Now, I get what everyone thinks about their family.

"They're so crazy."
"They're so embarrassing"
"They're not normal".

And statistically, some of us are correct.

However! This idea of family still sticks in our minds. Is it merely a memory we never had for a time we never experienced? Is it simply an assemblage of our favorite films? Or are there some of us out there still requesting time off and marking our calendars for days in December? Where we will fly to a familiar place to reluctantly unpack our overnight/weekend bags in the same room we grew up in.

The reason I propose all of this: my sister and I do not have such a family - no parts of it. And I recently discovered that she - at least sometimes - longs for such a scenario. "I wish we had a normal family", she said. Then something beautiful (that made me very sad) about how nice it would be to just have a nice, clean, cozy place to rest and do your laundry at. She then asked me how I felt on the topic; did I ever wish we had a "normal family"?

I could honestly say "Not really, no", because I like just having her. Sure I used to wish and dream about it when I was younger, but something about this alternative family that I have; this other, affords me freedom, or at the very least, a feeling like it. Which, I guess in a way is selfish, but for what it's worth I would trade it all for my sister to be able to finally achieve the sensation of security she longs for. And on the other hand, it may not be selfish at all and may just be my ability to "pull out the positives". Then again it just may, in fact, be a result of a kind of coping mechanism my body has created for never really having any back up of any kind when I needed it.

For a moment I wondered if it was bitterness propelling my "honest opinion" on the matter, but no. It was merely my natural ability to "face the facts" (I am unsure if I have ever used this many quotations in one blog; forgive me. They just really seem to fit). And the truth is: I like being able to make decisions for myself and spend time (yes, even holiday time) the way I would like to. Spoiled? I am open to the suggestion, although I must say I really think it has less to do with being a princess and more with perpetually being filled with guilt over everything I do. Especially for myself. Even more especially if it means letting down someone who is good and deserves to not be let down (not that anyone does deserve that, in my opinion).

Plus, as far as I am concerned, once you do prevail over the hardships life throws at you in this solo fashion, you can feel even better about it being a self-made victory.