Snack on my thoughts, please.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Gobble, Gobble

So, Thanksgiving is here.

I just woke up at 4 in the morning with a screaming sore throat, a stuffy head, and a fever that's trying really hard to come to fruition.

I'm also a bit of a hypochondriac, so that last part might just be a bit hyperbolic.

When the sun comes up, I am going to pack my bags and head home (after a stop at the doctor to get some just- in- case- my- throat- explodes medicine). I'm going to go back to my hometown and spend several days with my family.

I have never been one of those people who is so close to their familty that they sit in each other's laps, tell each other everything about their love lives, and share views on imporant issues (i.e. politics, lifestyle choices, and what to eat for dinner). My family isn't "close". We don't really do birthday gifts, we've never been to Disney World, and my mom and dad, although still married, do not sleep in the same bed. But, my parents love me to death. My mother is effusive with her love, but my father is reserved in his affections. With my dad, you just kind of have to know that he loves you. And, I do.

To the point: My family doesn't really know me. They might think that they do, but they don't. For example: they think that my affinity for tacky clothing is a direct result of my fashion cluelessness, when in fact, I just don't care what other people think of my couture. They think that my desire to help people is a direct result of my naivete, my "liberal" views, and, as my brother so aggressively puts it, my "damned hippie"-ness. The reason why I like to help people is rooted in the fact that I know that this world is kind of a fucked up place to live in sometimes. So, why bother exacerbating the fucked up part when maybe there's a chance that I can do some good? (Also, helping people makes me feel damned good, so there is a certain amount of selfishness behind the seeming altruism of my behavior).

My brother (half brother; 14 years older than me; on his second marriage) thinks that I'm crazy for not being married by now. He tells me that I "had a choice" and that I chose to turn it down. And, that's only because he met one of my ex-boyfriends and really liked him. Things didn't work out between the two of us, and my brother thinks that its due to my lack of sexiness, charisma, and fashion sense. But, really, he is one to talk. That's another story!

I told my mom that I want to go back to school for social work, and the next day she started sending me job postings via e-mail and encouraging me to apply to them. She must have spread the word, too, because a few days after revealing my plan, I got a call from my aunt demanding my resume. So, without putting up a fight, I sent it to her, to be agreeable. She promptly called me back to tell me that it "sucked" and that I needed to work on it. I did this, again, without putting up a fight, and I sent it to her. What's the point in fighting back against a family member when the person on the other side thinks they are absolutely correct? Even when it comes to matters of other peoples' lives! Rather than fighting back, I will just send everyone a copy of my acceptance letter to graduate school via e-mail (if it comes). It'll take them all by surprise. It will be priceless.

They want me to be successful, but some of them want me to meet their definition of the word. I say, "what about happiness? Can we measure success by the amount of happiness we experience?". They might say that happiness is measured by what lines your pockets or by your success with relationships. That's fine for some people, but not for me.

They don't know me very well. They don't know that when I construct a makeshift centerpiece for the Thanksgiving dinner table out of construction paper, crayon, puff paint, and felt, that it'll be to serve the kid inside of me who still likes to play and who thinks that there's a certain element of charm in poorly made arts and crafts. They will all think that, once again, taste has failed me and that I'm destined to be a biddy for the rest of my life. The people who are close to me, my best friends, would know for sure that my intentions aren't to woo people with my craftiness, but rather to have some fun with myself.

But, nonetheless, I love 'em, and I'm just gonna keep my mouth shut while I'm home.

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody. (And by "everybody," I mean you, the one reader that I have. Much love.) Remember to be thankful for all the things in life that make you happy. And be thankful for being.


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