I think I figured out the reason it's strange to visit my family. It's not because I don't love them unconditionally, and it's not because I was abused or anything... But it's because I have this growing sensation that they're expecting a lot out of me. Not only in the pursuit of my happiness and success, but to advance in places where they couldn't. I understand this. You don't invest a million dollars (statistically) into the first 18 years of anything's life without hoping your efforts aren't wasted. It's strange to visit them because I'm constantly watching myself through their eyes, and it's very hard to feel natural in that position.
That said, Christmas is finally over.
In the same way I've come to rationalize the nonexistence of God, I think I've willed away my need to enjoy Christmas. Why bother? It's just a fancier Valentine's Day at this point. Growing up, I'm noticing something I didn't see when I was younger. All those people who brought such cheer to my holiday are either living in other states or just going through the motions. It's not their fault the effort's waning, especially as the kids grow up. Everyone's getting tired of Christmas. It's fucking expensive. And as you grow older, it becomes the only day of the year you ever see your family--which makes it kind of a tragic day, if you think about it.
That said, it's meant to be a religious thing or whatever. I get that. I'm all for a little celebration here and there for the dead guys--they deserve to be remembered. But with the lights, the music, the TV specials, the snow and The Christmas Story, X-mas is always going to look like the Superbowl when it comes to the end of the year. It's not subtle, either. It's a whole goddamn season and everyone knows this, and we allow it. Even though Christmas is a holiday for one day of the year, it gets ninety. Seems wrong, especially since there's no proof that Jesus was born in December anyway.
Best gift: a Nook Color.
It's still too fresh of a gizmo for me to give my full opinion of the Nook. It's not an iPad--I'll just admit that right away. But it's plenty neato and has a few great features and a ton of potential. Having the internet is a big plus--except it's giving me lip about watching youtube videos--and the screen is gorgeous. My favorite part about it so far is the idea of subscribing to magazines. They're colorful and fun to navigate with touch-screen. Not sure if I should be expecting any such things as "Apps," but like I said, there is potential.
Thank you Mom.
Sister's getting older, faster, and watching someone grow up is just as crazy as they say. I can't even begin to imagine what I look like to her, her big brother out of college, doing... something. She's about to be taller than me, which makes me feel like a hobbit, and I am shocked constantly by the evolution she has made as a human being. First sprouting up from an infant, learning language, forming habits, adapting hobbies... There she is texting, asking Mom if she needs help cooking dinner, my living and breathing sibling who I once held as a newborn in a hospital room.
Second best gift: a bottle of 2005 Tempranillo from Vina Castellano.
And my mother, forty-one. She's moving along well--that seems the best way to describe it. She's happy in her career, happy with her little home, and Loren. I like that she still has a lot of spark in her heart and that gives me hope that she's living an honestly happy life, despite its downs. After she sends Loren to San Diego for college, it's off to Arizona, she says. I believe it.
I think the pride she feels for me about graduating from college is still strong, but it will start to fade if I don't take more steps forward, and soon. I know her biggest hope is for me to achieve more than my father. I imagine her thinking: It's great that you graduated, but please for the love of God get into a good career.
The good news here is that she's encouraging me to move, even if that means I get another low-paying coffee-shop job, same shit different city, which at least lets me know she understands that I graduated into this country right after Bush left office. Like something out of a post-apocalyptic screenplay, she told me, "You gotta do whatever it takes to survive."
Strangest gift:
Then part of this pressure is caused by my own view of life. My own hope to achieve at least one great thing in this life to make it all worth it. Not that each day isn't a blessing in itself, but to be on one's deathbed and recognize greatness in their past can only be the most reassuring thought before dying. So maybe I imagine this pressure from my parents because I want to be pressured, or maybe I'm just imagining what I would be thinking if I were my own parent. If I were raising me, would I be proud?
I don't really want to answer that question right now.
That's no such topic for Christmas season.
- Left to Fry
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