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A Documentation of Yule Tide Consumerism.
I hadn't seen another human being in two days. Vacations have a tendency to turn me into a reclusive shut-in, who is up at all hours of the night, staring at a glowing box. A part of me loathes this isolation, and another part of me is too socially awkward to do anything about it. Every break there is the same vow against this reclusive behavior, and every vacation I become paler.
There was a moment of relief when I opened the car door, to greet another human being was a wonderful thing. As I settled into the car, that moment had past. I looked the driver over; he was wearing his patchwork cap, his mustache was in full stride, and his belt line had grown since the last time I had seen him. The fact that my ex is gradually slipping into obesity, and looking more and more like a ginger version of Winnie The Pooh, has been something that I can help but internally smile about. Deep down, in like the stomach or uterus. (whichever is feeling more evil that day) We made a detour to 28th street, and since it was the season to binge shop, everyone and their Uncle Fred had made the same life choice as well. As we waited an hour to go around a block I sweetly told him that "This was a huge mistake". To which he agreed. This was to be the first cut in a series of other little cuts we gave each other. ( This being a reference to my mom telling me that every time he and I get together we verbally cut each other.) By the time we got on the highway we could have been back home, thanks to our little detour. He asked me to "reach back and grab [his] laptop." I grinned. I had predicted that we would have a row about this. Every time we go somewhere he asks me to hold his clunky laptop, so he can listen to music. Since we had a long trip, my resistance to hold his piece of machinery was even greater. Since I had known this conversation was going to take place, I couldn't help but expose my pearly whites. His reaction was predictable: a silent temper tantrum.
"You're silly" I said.
"You're stupid" He said.
We listened to NPR instead, and he swore under his breath. I listened to a report on airplane crashes, and it made me somewhat fearful. My objective profession, later in life, would involve a lot of plane rides. And you know statistically speaking, one theological role of the dice, and one of those crashes could be in store for me. As I was absorbed in my world of travel and planes dropping out of the sky, Hunter's knuckles turned white, as we slipped and glided along the highway. The irony of which was lost to me, until much later.
I hadn't payed his parents a visit in a couple of years. Not because I don't like them, I'm actually rather fond of them, but because ...you know.. the death of our relationship. In a silly little way its almost as though our relationship was buried in The Pet Cemetery. It died, and then it came back, and its conflicting to the people involved because, it looks familiar, but its turned into something awful...something that will shank you when you least expect it. Butch, was where I expected him to be: smoking at the dining room table..shirtless. Helyn was sitting in a new comfy chair near the tv, and hooked up to a machine. I kissed the top of her now frail head, and gave Butch a hug. She wanted a life report, and I didn't really know what to say." How's school? How's your Grandma?" Perhaps it was the amount of time that had passed since the last time I saw them, perhaps it was the fact that her health had gotten so much worse, or perhaps it was my own social awkwardness that made me uneasy. I focused most of my attention on the dogs, as I have always done. When conversation dwindled I started wandering around the house, until Butch noticed and asked if I "wanted a Coke or something", because I looked like I was lost. And I suppose I hadn't really realized that I was lost until he called attention to it. For years their house had been a stale memory to me, and once I was back there the subtle, and not-so-subtle changes, turned me upside down. Eventually my mother picked me up, and I was whisked away to the home that I feel lost in as well.
The Lost Boys were killing things in the basement, the cats were perching around the house, my Grandmother was in her bedroom, and I was putting presents under the Christmas tree. My mother and brother joined me, and he tried to convince me to let him open his present then. This had always been a sort of camaraderie between him and my sister. I however am not my sister, and I smiled when I told him he would have to wait. When my brother joined the Lost Boys, and my mother went to bed I joined my Grandmother in her room. And she told me stories about the boys that used to court her, how she met my grandfather, and the lesbians that used to live upstairs in her old apartment in Chicago.
"One of them had tiny ears, that looked like sea shells. And she would clean them to the point that they looked polished. She told me that she did so, because when she was younger other children used to make fun of her dirty ears. Isn't it interesting what little details affect our behavior for the rest of our lives?"
The rest of my stay was a mixture of happiness and annoyance. My annoyance directly related to the Lost Boys. Since their reinstallation at the house, and my allergies, I find myself with out a room, which means I have to sleep on the couch. The boys have tendency to stay up even later than me, so as I tried to sleep I could hear the never ending gun shots and swearing, created by a video game. Then early in the morning I would be awoken to my Grandmother's television. I would then scrape myself up, and try to find refuge in my mother's abandoned bed. To this I could still hear my Grandma's television, and on certain days my brother would turn up his amp and play his new guitar. This was a very unsettling sleeping arrangement for someone who is a light sleeper, and just spent a lot time alone. I however tried my best not to let it get the best of me.
One the other hand, I shared many games of Uno and Rummy with the members of the house, and had many conversations with my grandma. I enjoyed these games and conversations, because I value the sentiment of these moments. My Grandma and I are similar in that ideal. I spent sometime with old friends, and I saw the movie The Spirit. I may get some flack from other people about this, but I actually enjoyed this film. I "dug" the ridiculousness of it all. We celebrated Christmas on the 24th, and I was excited to see the reactions of the recipients of my gifts.
To my mother I gave a phasor, from the original Star Trek series. Which she fired all through the night, which made me some what regret giving it to her, but I was pleased over how much she enjoyed it. I also gave her a little laptop desk, which she needed. The next thing I need to get her is a phasor holster. From my Grandma she received a tee shirt that has a picture of our Galaxy, and then a little sign that says "You are here" and it points to where Earth is. It was a pretty nerdy Christmas for her, and she was pumped.
To my Grandmother I gave a Sketchbook and some inks, because the last time I saw her she told me that she can't draw anymore. Which made me sad, because I have always loved her illustrations. This will also give her something to do when she's too tired to get out of bed. I also gave her a replica of a Caulder Mobile, because the last time I was home she hinted that she wanted one.
To my brother I gave three shirts, which he seemed to enjoy. They had "funky" little illustrations on them, and I got them from Threadless.com. That year he got an electric guitar for his present, which he would later wake me up with.
From my family I got a nice assortment of movies. My grandma gave me a doll of the rabbit from The Holy grail. It had big pointy teeth, and we bonded over my stay. She also gave me some really cute taroh cards, with Edward Gorey illustrations.
The unwrapping of presents was a sweet little gathering, and I believe that every one really "hit the nail on the head", so to speak, when it came to gift giving.
Friday eventually rumbled in, when I was awoken to to one of the Lost Boys petting and talking to one of the cats, who happened to be perched on the couch I was sleeping on.
"Go away!" I croaked.
As the day progress I decided that I really didn't want to sleep on that couch again, other than the noise, it was making my whole body stiff. My mother drove me through the foggy night, and I drifted away in my thoughts thinking of this animation:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZS1fLK4
There was a moment of relief when I opened the car door, to greet another human being was a wonderful thing. As I settled into the car, that moment had past. I looked the driver over; he was wearing his patchwork cap, his mustache was in full stride, and his belt line had grown since the last time I had seen him. The fact that my ex is gradually slipping into obesity, and looking more and more like a ginger version of Winnie The Pooh, has been something that I can help but internally smile about. Deep down, in like the stomach or uterus. (whichever is feeling more evil that day) We made a detour to 28th street, and since it was the season to binge shop, everyone and their Uncle Fred had made the same life choice as well. As we waited an hour to go around a block I sweetly told him that "This was a huge mistake". To which he agreed. This was to be the first cut in a series of other little cuts we gave each other. ( This being a reference to my mom telling me that every time he and I get together we verbally cut each other.) By the time we got on the highway we could have been back home, thanks to our little detour. He asked me to "reach back and grab [his] laptop." I grinned. I had predicted that we would have a row about this. Every time we go somewhere he asks me to hold his clunky laptop, so he can listen to music. Since we had a long trip, my resistance to hold his piece of machinery was even greater. Since I had known this conversation was going to take place, I couldn't help but expose my pearly whites. His reaction was predictable: a silent temper tantrum.
"You're silly" I said.
"You're stupid" He said.
We listened to NPR instead, and he swore under his breath. I listened to a report on airplane crashes, and it made me somewhat fearful. My objective profession, later in life, would involve a lot of plane rides. And you know statistically speaking, one theological role of the dice, and one of those crashes could be in store for me. As I was absorbed in my world of travel and planes dropping out of the sky, Hunter's knuckles turned white, as we slipped and glided along the highway. The irony of which was lost to me, until much later.
I hadn't payed his parents a visit in a couple of years. Not because I don't like them, I'm actually rather fond of them, but because ...you know.. the death of our relationship. In a silly little way its almost as though our relationship was buried in The Pet Cemetery. It died, and then it came back, and its conflicting to the people involved because, it looks familiar, but its turned into something awful...something that will shank you when you least expect it. Butch, was where I expected him to be: smoking at the dining room table..shirtless. Helyn was sitting in a new comfy chair near the tv, and hooked up to a machine. I kissed the top of her now frail head, and gave Butch a hug. She wanted a life report, and I didn't really know what to say." How's school? How's your Grandma?" Perhaps it was the amount of time that had passed since the last time I saw them, perhaps it was the fact that her health had gotten so much worse, or perhaps it was my own social awkwardness that made me uneasy. I focused most of my attention on the dogs, as I have always done. When conversation dwindled I started wandering around the house, until Butch noticed and asked if I "wanted a Coke or something", because I looked like I was lost. And I suppose I hadn't really realized that I was lost until he called attention to it. For years their house had been a stale memory to me, and once I was back there the subtle, and not-so-subtle changes, turned me upside down. Eventually my mother picked me up, and I was whisked away to the home that I feel lost in as well.
The Lost Boys were killing things in the basement, the cats were perching around the house, my Grandmother was in her bedroom, and I was putting presents under the Christmas tree. My mother and brother joined me, and he tried to convince me to let him open his present then. This had always been a sort of camaraderie between him and my sister. I however am not my sister, and I smiled when I told him he would have to wait. When my brother joined the Lost Boys, and my mother went to bed I joined my Grandmother in her room. And she told me stories about the boys that used to court her, how she met my grandfather, and the lesbians that used to live upstairs in her old apartment in Chicago.
"One of them had tiny ears, that looked like sea shells. And she would clean them to the point that they looked polished. She told me that she did so, because when she was younger other children used to make fun of her dirty ears. Isn't it interesting what little details affect our behavior for the rest of our lives?"
The rest of my stay was a mixture of happiness and annoyance. My annoyance directly related to the Lost Boys. Since their reinstallation at the house, and my allergies, I find myself with out a room, which means I have to sleep on the couch. The boys have tendency to stay up even later than me, so as I tried to sleep I could hear the never ending gun shots and swearing, created by a video game. Then early in the morning I would be awoken to my Grandmother's television. I would then scrape myself up, and try to find refuge in my mother's abandoned bed. To this I could still hear my Grandma's television, and on certain days my brother would turn up his amp and play his new guitar. This was a very unsettling sleeping arrangement for someone who is a light sleeper, and just spent a lot time alone. I however tried my best not to let it get the best of me.
One the other hand, I shared many games of Uno and Rummy with the members of the house, and had many conversations with my grandma. I enjoyed these games and conversations, because I value the sentiment of these moments. My Grandma and I are similar in that ideal. I spent sometime with old friends, and I saw the movie The Spirit. I may get some flack from other people about this, but I actually enjoyed this film. I "dug" the ridiculousness of it all. We celebrated Christmas on the 24th, and I was excited to see the reactions of the recipients of my gifts.
To my mother I gave a phasor, from the original Star Trek series. Which she fired all through the night, which made me some what regret giving it to her, but I was pleased over how much she enjoyed it. I also gave her a little laptop desk, which she needed. The next thing I need to get her is a phasor holster. From my Grandma she received a tee shirt that has a picture of our Galaxy, and then a little sign that says "You are here" and it points to where Earth is. It was a pretty nerdy Christmas for her, and she was pumped.
To my Grandmother I gave a Sketchbook and some inks, because the last time I saw her she told me that she can't draw anymore. Which made me sad, because I have always loved her illustrations. This will also give her something to do when she's too tired to get out of bed. I also gave her a replica of a Caulder Mobile, because the last time I was home she hinted that she wanted one.
To my brother I gave three shirts, which he seemed to enjoy. They had "funky" little illustrations on them, and I got them from Threadless.com. That year he got an electric guitar for his present, which he would later wake me up with.
From my family I got a nice assortment of movies. My grandma gave me a doll of the rabbit from The Holy grail. It had big pointy teeth, and we bonded over my stay. She also gave me some really cute taroh cards, with Edward Gorey illustrations.
The unwrapping of presents was a sweet little gathering, and I believe that every one really "hit the nail on the head", so to speak, when it came to gift giving.
Friday eventually rumbled in, when I was awoken to to one of the Lost Boys petting and talking to one of the cats, who happened to be perched on the couch I was sleeping on.
"Go away!" I croaked.
As the day progress I decided that I really didn't want to sleep on that couch again, other than the noise, it was making my whole body stiff. My mother drove me through the foggy night, and I drifted away in my thoughts thinking of this animation:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZS1fLK4
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