Hey, baby, there ain't no easy way out
Nothing like staying a few hours in the Zelazny household to get the old mind pondering again. This post is going to be entirely melodramatic and mostly uncalled for.
I had a most superb time hanging out at Tom's house. Then, I scoot over to my family's. I just can't stand being here. It seems like my whole family irritates me when I'm actually around them for longer than five minutes. Some members it doesn't even take that long. Perhaps if my brother wasn't here and my dad was on a trip, I'd be okay. But compound four people into this mess of a house with me, and I freak. My sister bothers me mostly because she's absolutely inconsiderate in every way. Nobody exists outside of her. She's the queen of the universe. I realize that most of us go through such a stage in the early teens. But the girls been acting this way for years and years now, it's getting rather tiring watching her disrespect everyone, leave messes she expects others to clean up, and then asking for help as if she has done anything to deserve the compassion of others.
(As I'm now writing about my sister, I'm immediately reminded of the old theological metaphor that would equate someone like my sister to the entire human race and God to the one who's always cleaning up the messes, taking the disrespect, and then loving anyway.....
but, yeah...I immediately think of why some aren't saved if we're all the proverbial rags compared to God's glory, and none of us truly deserve it, so why should some be preferred to others?...)
Anyway, my brother just pisses me off cause he's inconsiderate and mean. Much like my sister.
My father...well...he arouses mixed emotions...those of both dislike and pity. I feel bad for him, because sometimes I just want a loving father, and I think he's doing the best he can and just doesn't know how to express love, etc. Other times, I just can't understand why he constantly has to throw temper-tantrums, talk to all of us like we're beasts and not human beings, disrespect my mother and wreak havoc on us all. I just don't know what to think of this man, and I don't think I'll ever figure that one out. Sometimes I just want him to go away and stop trying, other times I can't wait for he and my mother to divorce, and yet other times I just want him to break down and give me a damn hug. He hasn't given me a hug since......
My mother tries so hard to take care of everyone, and gets so frusterated in the process. Who wouldn't? The only reason why I get annoyed with her is because I know I'd run the household differently, or at least I somehow think I could do it better. Getting angry at my mom just makes me feel like a jerk, and I hate it when I do it.
Anyway, I decided to go with my mother to help her and Ruth (a mondo-nice surrogate grandmother of mine who's suffering from cancer) clean the church. I spent the entire summer in the building working at the day care, but each time I go in I still get the weirdest of feelings. I miss the security and the love that I once found there. I miss how everyone knew me and "cared" about me. I miss that state of naivity that led me to have confidence in so many people. I still think that I trust people too easily. I just can't help it. It may be a vice or a virtue, I don't know yet. All I know is that that building still harbors mixed feelings of both happiness and hurt. Even entering it catapults me into experiencing memories I always try to repress. I can't hide from my past, and I can't completely reject it. I've tried so many times. I've tried to forget about that life I led. But here's the thing, I know some things about it were good. I can't just pick these things out, and I can't go running back to the past, hoping that I can relive the good parts. I've got keep moving and working with what I've got. But, by the end of the night, I think I mustered a little more hope. I've got to keep thinking that things will eventually be okay. Not that I'll figure everything out and always be happy for the rest of my life....but that I'll find something, some kind of answer, that I can hold on to, something that will get me through...something I can trust. Believing that there is a God isn't enough, I need something else. I've believed there is a God for as long as I can remember...but not knowing anything else kills me every day. I get stuck, because I don't know if I'm nit-picking and being faithless, or if I'm honestly and rightly looking for answers. I don't know if the problem is in the answers or in the questions. All I know is that I simply can't eradicate the questions, that will never work. I can't sink myself into a intellectual coma and just live a certain way. Maybe I just need to find a better way to handle all the questions. I don't know. I'm rambling.
But, the important thing is: I have hope. I think that's one thing I've never really lost. I hope that someday, somehow things will make a little more sense. That I can both be myself and believe in something.
Wow, what a tangent to go off on. Good thing I'm not open to tons of readers. Everyone must have become entirely bored with my constant tirades about spiritual stuff. I know I grow weary of it.
I had a most superb time hanging out at Tom's house. Then, I scoot over to my family's. I just can't stand being here. It seems like my whole family irritates me when I'm actually around them for longer than five minutes. Some members it doesn't even take that long. Perhaps if my brother wasn't here and my dad was on a trip, I'd be okay. But compound four people into this mess of a house with me, and I freak. My sister bothers me mostly because she's absolutely inconsiderate in every way. Nobody exists outside of her. She's the queen of the universe. I realize that most of us go through such a stage in the early teens. But the girls been acting this way for years and years now, it's getting rather tiring watching her disrespect everyone, leave messes she expects others to clean up, and then asking for help as if she has done anything to deserve the compassion of others.
(As I'm now writing about my sister, I'm immediately reminded of the old theological metaphor that would equate someone like my sister to the entire human race and God to the one who's always cleaning up the messes, taking the disrespect, and then loving anyway.....
but, yeah...I immediately think of why some aren't saved if we're all the proverbial rags compared to God's glory, and none of us truly deserve it, so why should some be preferred to others?...)
Anyway, my brother just pisses me off cause he's inconsiderate and mean. Much like my sister.
My father...well...he arouses mixed emotions...those of both dislike and pity. I feel bad for him, because sometimes I just want a loving father, and I think he's doing the best he can and just doesn't know how to express love, etc. Other times, I just can't understand why he constantly has to throw temper-tantrums, talk to all of us like we're beasts and not human beings, disrespect my mother and wreak havoc on us all. I just don't know what to think of this man, and I don't think I'll ever figure that one out. Sometimes I just want him to go away and stop trying, other times I can't wait for he and my mother to divorce, and yet other times I just want him to break down and give me a damn hug. He hasn't given me a hug since......
My mother tries so hard to take care of everyone, and gets so frusterated in the process. Who wouldn't? The only reason why I get annoyed with her is because I know I'd run the household differently, or at least I somehow think I could do it better. Getting angry at my mom just makes me feel like a jerk, and I hate it when I do it.
Anyway, I decided to go with my mother to help her and Ruth (a mondo-nice surrogate grandmother of mine who's suffering from cancer) clean the church. I spent the entire summer in the building working at the day care, but each time I go in I still get the weirdest of feelings. I miss the security and the love that I once found there. I miss how everyone knew me and "cared" about me. I miss that state of naivity that led me to have confidence in so many people. I still think that I trust people too easily. I just can't help it. It may be a vice or a virtue, I don't know yet. All I know is that that building still harbors mixed feelings of both happiness and hurt. Even entering it catapults me into experiencing memories I always try to repress. I can't hide from my past, and I can't completely reject it. I've tried so many times. I've tried to forget about that life I led. But here's the thing, I know some things about it were good. I can't just pick these things out, and I can't go running back to the past, hoping that I can relive the good parts. I've got keep moving and working with what I've got. But, by the end of the night, I think I mustered a little more hope. I've got to keep thinking that things will eventually be okay. Not that I'll figure everything out and always be happy for the rest of my life....but that I'll find something, some kind of answer, that I can hold on to, something that will get me through...something I can trust. Believing that there is a God isn't enough, I need something else. I've believed there is a God for as long as I can remember...but not knowing anything else kills me every day. I get stuck, because I don't know if I'm nit-picking and being faithless, or if I'm honestly and rightly looking for answers. I don't know if the problem is in the answers or in the questions. All I know is that I simply can't eradicate the questions, that will never work. I can't sink myself into a intellectual coma and just live a certain way. Maybe I just need to find a better way to handle all the questions. I don't know. I'm rambling.
But, the important thing is: I have hope. I think that's one thing I've never really lost. I hope that someday, somehow things will make a little more sense. That I can both be myself and believe in something.
Wow, what a tangent to go off on. Good thing I'm not open to tons of readers. Everyone must have become entirely bored with my constant tirades about spiritual stuff. I know I grow weary of it.