|
Merry Christmas Eve!
I know how you feel little buddy. But, I was feeling that last year, and the year before that. This year it's different. It's a mixture of sheer and utter hatred, (Don't worry, not you guys, I'll explain, just wait), a weird loneliness, and a thankfulness that has never been present before.
Hatred for the reality of things. The past year hasn't been bad, but it hasn't been brilliant half the time either. Sometimes enjoyable and fearful. But, this year, everything seemed to be coming to a pretty happy close. Made a pretty good friend with Andrew upstairs. A rocky start, but it's evened out. We even got them presents, and all sorts of gunk. He lives with his cancer-ridden and god-filled mother, his girlfriend/fiancé, and baby girl. Everything was fine until the day before yesterday.
Went to the grocery store he works at with him before Kim went to work so we could scope out the Black Santa they had people taking pictures with. A sight to behold, I must say. His girlfriend was already there and took pictures of his daughter with Mr. Black Santa. On the way back she was talking about how his mother yells at her and calls her dirty names when he's not there. How she gets this crazy look in her eyes and just walks up to her looking like she's going to kill her. She yells at her about how she ruined Andrews life and all this stuff. He doesn't have much to say. I tell her I know how she feels sometimes.
I tell her she can come down later that night when he goes to work and hang in our apartment so he doesn't have to deal with her mom but she doesn't.
Andrew comes down the day after at night asking to use our phone. He was saying things about how his mom hates her now, and he has to call friends to see if she can go stay with them, etc. He, in probably one of his only serious moments, speaks about how he tried to make a good Christmas for his daughter, the tree, the presents, and everything. I wasn't watching, but Kim said he was sitting there crying.
The loneliness is unexplainable. It's always been there, it's nothing new. It's a lacking that I'm sure a lot of people feel and can't shake unless they're totally distracted. It's there, and no one knows how to shake it until it's gone and you don't even notice. It's a simple beast.
I'm thankful for just about everything. I'm thankful I'm not Andrew for a number of reasons. Top one being his love of G.I. Joes. Two, being his lack of being able to do anything. I'm thankful for the past year, and how I manage to enjoy even the most desperate of moments. Kim said it annoys her to watch me cook, because I'm always smiling, and I don't realize it. Then she started to say that she likes it. I guess I smile when I do everything. The dishes, laundry, cleaning. I'm thankful that the past year has made me even more fully realize the common decency most average people have within themselves.
Along with that, thankful that teenagers are entirely unlike the majority of adults out there. You don't have to be afraid of small children and the majority of adults, thankfully, because they mostly mean well and don't shit all over you with the drop of a pin. I'm thankful to have learned that. It's still setting in but it's a nice feeling.
I don't know if I posted about it before, but... I went to the mall with Kim, Andrew, and his girlfriend. They went to go sit down in the food court, and I was left behind because I wanted to grab myself a Chocolate Brownie at Starbucks. I waited in line, and the line was forever long because of these two women up front ordering coffee for just about everyone. They stood there for about 20 minutes, laughing, giggling, and generally being entirely out of their goddamn minds. Sort of like what you'd think two giggling pre-teen girls asking you questions about sex would be like if they never grew up.
I always hated it when my father would turn to random people and strike up conversation for no reason. Like, why would anyone give half a shit about what some random person off the street would say. But at that moment, in line, I felt the intense need to speak my mind, and not through written word on this goddamn blog. Never before have I felt that urge and given in to it. I turned to the guy next to me, an older man who was staring at the women as I was. I said to him, "I think, for these people, that coffee isn't the answer to their problems." and he laughed approval, and I continued, "Seriously, I drink coffee in order to wake myself up, I honestly don't think these poor women need more in their systems." He enjoyed my comments and we talked for a while until my place in line came up and I said goodbye, and he said goodbye, and we went out separate ways.
I went back and I told Kim about it. She didn't understand my enthusiasm, but it made me very happy. I impressed myself. Speaking to strangers! Me! Of all people! I was amazed at myself, and I guess that's ok if others don't understand my joy at that moment. It felt good. Speaking your mind... inoffensive and complete. It was a sweet release.
I'm thankful for that.
I'm also thankful for the realization that not all people are akin to my family. Not to offend my family. The majority of the memories I have of my family are torturous. I think there are good memories but the ones that sum up my outlook are bad. Examples.
I have one memory that makes me loathe my younger sister, Heather, to this day. Two years ago, as a Freshman in high school, I joined a protest/political/activist group. It was enjoyable. We rallied, and eventually we lost the battle, but it was fun. The token thing in this was that there were only, like, three black kids at my school. The majority was Mexican, then white, then Asian, and then like three black kids. In this group, there was one black kid, named Tyrell, or something.
He was pretty much the only guy I got along with. And, I was excited about it. The excitement of someone who has never experienced real life before, that sort of thing. A blind man being able to see. I mean, I never had a black friend before. It's not a racial thing, but I've never carried on a conversation with a black guy, never really been introduced to one. I know it sounds funky and sort of strange, but it's true. I wasn't surprised to find that black people were humans too, it's not like that at all... Just, all my life, been friends with Mexicans and white kids. It was sort of amazing to meet someone different.
When knowing people, I think everyone ends up qualifying people as one thing. Mexicans start to qualify white people that they knew all their life as Mexicans. White people, change Mexicans, etc, to White. Its the subconscious way of making everyone equal. It's not racial, it's just that over time we become used to races and they stop existing. So when someone knowing only Whites all his life, being Mexicans, whites, Asians, etc, meets someone Black (aka: different than White) it's an exciting thing to be able to meet something different.
I'm trying to explain it so it doesn't sound like my sister took it.
Me and my family went to dinner later that day, and I decided to tell everyone, "Yeah, I made friends with a black kid!" and no one seemed to care, but Heather found this yet another thing to nit-pick and insults, and she went off on some rant that made me sound like I was racist and unimportant. I was hurt, and I didn't mean it that way, and etc. I just simply wanted to share my excitement about meeting someone different and realizing they really aren't. I just hate it when my words are tweaked into meaning something different, and I'm criticized for it. The same thing happened on Survivor Blog II last year, if you remember.
Another memory relates to the Family Christmas party where the entire clan gets together and eats and chats every year. I actually talked about it this year just for fun and excitement. It's a simple one and it's the story about the line up top.
When I was little, this is probably my youngest memory and it still pains me sometimes when I think about it. I'm not sure what I was doing, I think I was trying to squeeze past Cameron, a cousin of mine, and he grabbed me out of annoyance (I suppose) and says, "Your mother brought you into this world, kid, but remember, I can take you out!" and everyone laughed and I remember feeling really hurt, and that's it.
When I told it at the Christmas party this year, Heather, once again, stuck in a snide comment that went something like, "Oh well aren't you just poor put-upon Brad!" like I said it trying to get sympathy from everyone. I wasn't, I was telling it to be humorous and bring back an obscure memory I had. Conversation, not a sob story, sheesh.
I wasn't, I'm not, saying that these memories are the only moments there were. These are the memories I base the thought my family life on. They might be skewed and distorted by my mind, and there are a probably zillions of happy moments I can't remember for the life of me. I know there are, I just can't name one. So my mind goes back to the only memories I have... the bad ones. I apologize. I'm not asking of sympathy or help, that's it.
The source of my bitterness is something unfixable and irreversible and I know that. I'm thankful to know that, and to know that I have no reason to be bitter, but I am. Petty things make a big impression in a child's mind. Perception is skewed when you're young and so are the memories. This is my way of fixing it, and getting it out there and analyzing it helps.
That is what I'm thankful for. I'm thankful for the knowledge of myself. The reason behind all my problems being sought out in my wandering thoughts. I'm thankful for my seemingly natural ability to make any situation worth smiling about. I can enjoy any moment, and sometimes it pisses the fuck out of Kim, but that's OK. I can look back on the bad things, smile, and tell you about them, because I know these are the moments that make up my life in my mind, and I can't do anything about them except belittle them myself.
I'm not asking for sympathy, I've already got enough from myself over the last few years. It's not pity, it's caring, nurturing, and realizing how fuckin stupid some people can be, including me.
Christmas this year is still as materialistic as always, and no one cares. Nothing is going to change that. You can't share yourself with people any more, because unlike It's A Wonderful Life, our lives are peppered with many more moments not worth sharing. Not worth it in our minds. Others might be interested but there will always be someone where to critique them in such a way to make you feel like shit. That's life, these days, and you have to watch your mouth.
So, open your presents, eat your dinner, and enjoy the small amount of happiness everyone has, even if it's a thin veil hiding what's truly going on in everyone’s lives. It's Christmas. Futurama last night had it right. Maybe we're up for a change.
Just thought I'd share. Guten tag.
l Posted by Stuy Parker at 3:03 PM.
|
