Hello, Mr. Heartache.
I'm still up in Big Bear... I feel like every year, we're up here and I end up on Livejournal, bitching about how much I want to go home. I'm still working on the parents about New Year's. They want to stay up here, and I think I'd rather shoot myself. We'll watch Dick Clark on TV, have a glass of champagne, and go to bed at 12:05. If that's not lame, then I don't know what is... New Year's isn't even really a family holiday. But, try telling that to my father and see what you end up with.
(Oh, I already know the answer! It's a big fat fight and a whole bunch of crocheted projects... Don't ask.)
So, punchline is, I may or may not be in LA for New Year's.
I really hope I am.
Like, a lot.
Big Bear is pretty though. It's cold and clear, and the days stretch into kingly nights, frosted with snow and fresh pine scent. The lake is beautiful in that ice-queen kind of way. It sparkles menacingly, as if it knows what I'm actually thinking about. As if it can see into my head and decipher the bunched up thoughts and dreams spun and woven by the cold and isolation and the time. Oh god, the endless time in which to do absolutely nothing. But I digress. My thoughts are sewn into the fabric of cool Christmas cheer and the longing to go back to my life as I knew it before.
It's harder being home than I thought it would be. My dad wants things to be the way they were before I moved, and he was actually the one to figure out that I'm looking for something that isn't here anymore. It's why I'm recessed into my mind, and why I'm so lost here. My family can only offer comfort, not support, and that's odd for them. My entire life was shrouded by my parents and sisters and brother's guiding hands, and I don't need them anymore. None of us know how to deal with that.
And that makes it so hard to sit around here, waiting to get back to my search. I've looked all around this town, and it simply isn't here. The question isn't even here anymore. I'm restless and bored, and they can tell. I can't sit still, and I need to be on the move constantly.
They don't like it, and neither do I.
Whatever it is I need, crave, and pull for isn't here anymore. It's sad and wonderful and scary and thrilling.
And sad. Because I know it kills my parents and there's nothing I care to do about it yet. One day I'll come home.
But today is not that day.
(Oh, I already know the answer! It's a big fat fight and a whole bunch of crocheted projects... Don't ask.)
So, punchline is, I may or may not be in LA for New Year's.
I really hope I am.
Like, a lot.
Big Bear is pretty though. It's cold and clear, and the days stretch into kingly nights, frosted with snow and fresh pine scent. The lake is beautiful in that ice-queen kind of way. It sparkles menacingly, as if it knows what I'm actually thinking about. As if it can see into my head and decipher the bunched up thoughts and dreams spun and woven by the cold and isolation and the time. Oh god, the endless time in which to do absolutely nothing. But I digress. My thoughts are sewn into the fabric of cool Christmas cheer and the longing to go back to my life as I knew it before.
It's harder being home than I thought it would be. My dad wants things to be the way they were before I moved, and he was actually the one to figure out that I'm looking for something that isn't here anymore. It's why I'm recessed into my mind, and why I'm so lost here. My family can only offer comfort, not support, and that's odd for them. My entire life was shrouded by my parents and sisters and brother's guiding hands, and I don't need them anymore. None of us know how to deal with that.
And that makes it so hard to sit around here, waiting to get back to my search. I've looked all around this town, and it simply isn't here. The question isn't even here anymore. I'm restless and bored, and they can tell. I can't sit still, and I need to be on the move constantly.
They don't like it, and neither do I.
Whatever it is I need, crave, and pull for isn't here anymore. It's sad and wonderful and scary and thrilling.
And sad. Because I know it kills my parents and there's nothing I care to do about it yet. One day I'll come home.
But today is not that day.