Sunday morning.

The sky is full of dragonflies.

Family.

One of the things I love is seeing how things unfold exponentially. A cascade effect, in this case, having to do with family. My family. My estranged family.

I've missed them dearly. For reasons I won't go into right now, I had to remove myself from interacting with my mother's side of the family when I was still a kid. It hurt me very badly to do so, but it was a matter of self-preservation.

Where I turned my back, other malignant presences remained. And kept their place of honor among them. I hated them then, my family, for choosing to leave me out. I hated them for a very long time.

I went on with my life. I grew up, pursued my ambitions and my bliss. I went beyond coping into actual liberation. I started to feel balance and happiness. I was okay with the idea that my family wasn't mine any more. Hell, I reveled in my independence and my ability to go it alone.

I had this very high opinion of myself when, years later, a family member reached out to me. He asked me why I never went to any reunions. I'd even missed my own beloved aunt's funeral. My response was to get angry and defensive, anything to not give the reason why. Even now, it's still incredibly difficult, so difficult I keep talking in code. Some will be able to read between the lines, some won't. If you look hard enough, you'll figure it out.

I was unable to hide from telling my family member the truth, not when they had reached out to me in love and concern. Even after I told him the incredulous, disgusting truth, I still felt it was somehow my fault. So while I reconnected with him (and simultaneously maintained my distance) I still stayed away from most of my family. But that was the beginning of the cascade effect.

Years went by like this. I constantly made up excuses on why I stayed away, yet circled around my family like an obsolete satellite. Then suddenly, a long-lost cousin reached out to me. And suddenly, I realized I wanted my family back.

Her reaching out to me quickly progressed from a cascade to a downpour. Others in my family reached out to me, all asking me why had I stayed away. Realizing why, I got angry and I got fed up.

I have had enough, and I am going to do what it takes to have my family back. They want to be a part of my life, and I want to be a part of theirs. I want family reunions, holidays, celebrations and shared condolences. I want birthdays, vacations, and stupid family pictures. I want them back. All of them.

Nothing stays buried forever.

What. A. Day.

I haven't written for a while because I haven't really been able to come up for air. If I don't set my pace now, it could get pretty nuts.


It started this morning - well, it actually had been building up: work, clients, school, getting shit in general done, traveling, old family, new family, friends... yeah, like that.

Non stop.

Does it sound like I'm complaining? I hope not. It's more the frenetic pace than anything that has my head reeling.

I just hope I at least remember enough about the family history I was told today. Apparently, my great-grandmother was kick ass.

As for the progression of the day, well... it was frustrating at times, fun at others, and had its fair share of sexiness thrown in, too. But. it. didn't. slow. down.

I'm getting a good night's rest. Something tells me this is just the beginning.

Yesterday, all at once...

I accepted a new in-house publishing position after I negotiated a fairer in-house rate. On my way home, I stopped at an auto parts store (car issues, but what's new). I was able to narrow down the elusive part name I need to replace; it's called a flange. Why do I keep thinking it sounds like something you'd buy at a slap-and-tickle store? My slight present hangover causes me to digress - starting next week I'll be gainfully employed! Jeez, I've been unemployed for what, ten months? If it wasn't for Brian, I'd probably be lamenting my sorry existence back in NYC, under my mom's roof right now. Shudder...

So, I get home and find it empty, but Brian and Jeff's things are laying about. Jeff came over to hang out, post-beach. I was a bit sad at not being able to impart the news immediately for all of one nanosecond, when I heard them come in. A shot of rum toast later we were celebrating!

Can you believe they actually combined efforts to go to to the supermarket, and pick up dinner stuff for me? I'm not talking "here's a bag of chips" either. They bought me a salmon steak, brown rice, bacon, and vanilla ice cream. While they prepared my meal in secret (I wasn't allowed in the kitchen) the drinks kept coming.

I can't not mention the card they bought me either, congratulating me on having successfully negotiated my way into a good job with more pay. Moments like this is why I believe happiness is a transitory state (and yes, a state of mind). But wow, talk about a perfect perfect afternoon/evening! It was a beautiful night, too.

Let me interject that my feet are firmly planted on the ground. I know shit can go wrong. Believe me, I've been on the receiving end of that before, big time. But for now? I'm just...happy.

Thanks guys for one of the best, most phenomenal dinners of my life. Fellow foodies know we put a historical time stamp on extraspecialdelish meals. Last night was one of my top three, because my senses, state of mind and palate were fully engaged. Did I mention that for dessert, they made me a maple syrup bacon sundae?

On my first day of high school, sophomore year...

My mother and I were standing in some bureaucratic line with all the other students and their parents, waiting to fill out some paperwork. The first high school I attended was small, private and in upstate New York.

Of course I was terrified. Who'd say hi to me, who'd be new? Would my old friends come back this year? Would they still be my friends? There was a really pretty girl in line in front of me, a fellow classmate. I looked on silently at the back of her perfectly feathered brown hair (it was the 80's) and stood fidgeting next to my mother. How I prayed the lime-green wall I was leaning against would open up and transport me to a less anxiety-ridden dimension...

A super cute boy (who'd started the year before, I think) walked right past me and up to the pretty brunette with the perfect hair and said hello to her. She shrugged daintily, and pretended to be annoyed at him. When he tried to grab her hand, my fleeting crush on him died. This public announcement of affection informed all our curious teenaged eyes they were a couple.

"But, come on," he insisted, "I was busy before with my family, but I'm saying hi now."
"No, I won't hold your hand," she said playfully, "your hand is too big."
"No it isn't, hold yours up to mine and you'll see they match," he said. When she relented his face broke into a big, goofy grin.

My mother was watching all of this with interest and chuckling. The pretty brunette pulled her hand away from the boy's and told him  "no, it's too late, you'll never get to hold my hand ever again." The boy walked away smiling.

My mother then turned to me with a big, amused smile on her face and said, "children are so fucking stupid."

Perfunctory Rant

I'd like to see some kind of service where someone would sign up to be followed around and videotaped, so they could see how others truly react. Or maybe, it could be followed up with a professional psychoanalysis of some kind.

Would psychotherapy would be less necessary of one could just do that?

Yes, sometimes people just need a sympathetic ear and yes, sometimes, a safe, non-judgmental environment is conducive to the healing process. But we don't interact in a room. We move about in the world, jarred and jangled by non-linear occurrences that pressure us into desperate situations.

But how does one establish boundaries? How does one successfully communicate without either being misunderstood, or misunderstanding, unless it takes place in an objective environment?

I've been told I think more like a guy; I'm not a passive listener. When someone tells me their problems, I listen actively and try to come up with a solution. I can't really wrap my head around listening to someone complain endlessly about an issue and not take steps to resolve it. Conversely, unless the issue is circumstantial (see my two last posts), I don't see the point in talking to someone about my problems unless I'm seeking a solution. Even when I've experienced grief, I think this way.

Is the urge to talk out problems ego-driven, a need for attention? Is that why, when someone talks about their problems, the listener's response could most likely be, "you think YOU have it bad? Well, listen to MY problems."

What are our real needs?

The irony!

I should have known the universe wasn't done with me yet. Yesterday, after I basked in the anticipatory glow of returning to bland normalcy, my fucking car broke down AGAIN. On my way to class. On the highway.

Seriously?

So this is what a cosmic joke feels like. Not funny.

Is my cosmic lesson to teach me the true value of humility (I did ask for it), or to drive me into the nuthouse?

This continuing cascade of misfortune does make me appreciate the good things in my life that much more, but it's starting to tear at the very fabric of my existence. Honestly, I don't know if I should just abandon all my ambitions and go into some kind of monastic seclusion.

Or become a mechanic.

Peace

Wow, has it really been that long since I've posted something on here? Odd, when I didn't have a blog I had anxiety about getting one. Now that I have one, I sometimes get anxiety over not posting enough. It's that old creative dichotomy of genuine creative expression vs. pleasing an audience.

What an insane couple of months it's been since my last post.

I re-enrolled in college (in November) only to have my car crap out on me the first week of classes (January). November was mostly a blur. 

In December I found out my mother had a heart condition that required prompt action. Surgical action. My one surviving parent. December was also the month that ushered in probably the biggest fight I've ever had with a romantic partner. Ever. Happy New Year, we're through!

January started off with two friends basically watching over me and keeping me out of the hospital. Part grief, part self-induced inebriated state. I've never gotten drunk to numb emotional pain. It doesn't work. It was also the month my mother had open heart surgery.

The tragi-comedy of my flying to New York to be by my mother's side will surely someday be rich fodder for a best-selling book or poignant movie. Obviously, she pulled through. If it hadn't been for Brian being my lifeline at the hospital (we decided to work things out) I would be writing this blog post in blood and feces on the walls of my padded cell.

So, finally, my life has calmed down. Back to taking care of wonderfully banal tasks like homework, paying bills and domestic chores. I have a renewed appreciation for normalcy.

I have the most wonderful friends and loved ones who continually watched over and cared for me. Some sent me money to help out with my bills, some gave me emotional support, one paid for my flight to New York, others cat-sat while I was gone, and still another saved my car from certain death. Brian's love and support defies definition by its sheer volume and strength. I only hope I haven't cashed in all my karma points. I also rekindled an old friendship after not having seen each other for about thirteen years.

I have plenty to draw inspiration from, I am humbled, and I am thankful. I am at peace.