(no subject)
It has been a strange holiday season, to say the least. A mixture of absolute sloth and strange occurrences, of new connections and old wounds. It feels strange to say, but I feel like I've changed somewhat during the last couple of weeks. I couldn't really say how; I just feel...different.
For the first time in years, I went to see my family in Tulsa. By family, this is my brother, aunt, great aunt, and grandmother. The whole trip was just surreal. I say "trip" - I went up Christmas Eve, and bailed Christmas Day. I'm so unused to the concept of "family" any more, although I remember that we were all very close when I was young. But at some point, it seems like everything fell apart, and that's what really shaped me. Now, although I of course have some love for them, it feels more like obligation than affection. I realize this is a terrible thing to say. But I felt as though I was in a room of strangers...and I was. What's even stranger is that I've been so far apart from my entire family for so long that I don't think I want to be close to them. It's like trying to cartwheel again; I was great at it when I was a kid. Now it would be a joke. All things considered, I was happy to see them. Perhaps the most telling incident was when my grandmother found my cousin's crackpipe and brought it to me. I think I checked out in my head as soon as that happened, friends.
I wish I could say I've done anything at all productive with the massive amount of time I've had off, but I haven't. I've done some cleaning and some painting, but as I am neither a maid nor an artist, I don't think either of these activities really count. What I have done is slept an enormous amount. My dreams have been the worst lately. I woke up from one very early this morning, so upset I had to get up and putter around before going back to sleep. I hate/love my dreams, but I definitely hated this one. Hurtful.
Last night Melissa and Erin and I went to a show at the Opolis, and had an excellent time. Later in the evening, Race and Bobby and a bunch of other fine folk came over. Unfortunately, we were chased off by the lack of beer and the appearance of the loudest drunk woman I've ever seen in my life (courtesy of Jeremy). We wound up going to the *Murder House on DeBarr. Although I have yet to concretely verify if the murder took place in this house or the one that burned down next door (and I WILL find out for sure!), it was a great and creepy place. It was enormous, with more rooms than I've ever seen. I kept getting lost, and isolated from everyone and unable to find them. There was the largest and creepiest basement I've ever seen, with twisting rooms and showers that looked like they had been transplanted from Auschwitz. I got a very uncomfortable feeling there, inexplicable of course. But the folks who lived there (and there were a lot) all seemed very cool, and I had a good ol' time.
*Incidentally, this murder took place in the mid-nineties, and was perhaps the most memorable in Norman history. A disgruntled young man beheaded his roommate, then left the house naked with the head in a backpack to walk around campus. The body was found in the house, the head in a nearby dumpster. It was pretty metal.
I'm bummed today, and can't say why. To borrow from the great BEE: "This is not an exit."
For the first time in years, I went to see my family in Tulsa. By family, this is my brother, aunt, great aunt, and grandmother. The whole trip was just surreal. I say "trip" - I went up Christmas Eve, and bailed Christmas Day. I'm so unused to the concept of "family" any more, although I remember that we were all very close when I was young. But at some point, it seems like everything fell apart, and that's what really shaped me. Now, although I of course have some love for them, it feels more like obligation than affection. I realize this is a terrible thing to say. But I felt as though I was in a room of strangers...and I was. What's even stranger is that I've been so far apart from my entire family for so long that I don't think I want to be close to them. It's like trying to cartwheel again; I was great at it when I was a kid. Now it would be a joke. All things considered, I was happy to see them. Perhaps the most telling incident was when my grandmother found my cousin's crackpipe and brought it to me. I think I checked out in my head as soon as that happened, friends.
I wish I could say I've done anything at all productive with the massive amount of time I've had off, but I haven't. I've done some cleaning and some painting, but as I am neither a maid nor an artist, I don't think either of these activities really count. What I have done is slept an enormous amount. My dreams have been the worst lately. I woke up from one very early this morning, so upset I had to get up and putter around before going back to sleep. I hate/love my dreams, but I definitely hated this one. Hurtful.
Last night Melissa and Erin and I went to a show at the Opolis, and had an excellent time. Later in the evening, Race and Bobby and a bunch of other fine folk came over. Unfortunately, we were chased off by the lack of beer and the appearance of the loudest drunk woman I've ever seen in my life (courtesy of Jeremy). We wound up going to the *Murder House on DeBarr. Although I have yet to concretely verify if the murder took place in this house or the one that burned down next door (and I WILL find out for sure!), it was a great and creepy place. It was enormous, with more rooms than I've ever seen. I kept getting lost, and isolated from everyone and unable to find them. There was the largest and creepiest basement I've ever seen, with twisting rooms and showers that looked like they had been transplanted from Auschwitz. I got a very uncomfortable feeling there, inexplicable of course. But the folks who lived there (and there were a lot) all seemed very cool, and I had a good ol' time.
*Incidentally, this murder took place in the mid-nineties, and was perhaps the most memorable in Norman history. A disgruntled young man beheaded his roommate, then left the house naked with the head in a backpack to walk around campus. The body was found in the house, the head in a nearby dumpster. It was pretty metal.
I'm bummed today, and can't say why. To borrow from the great BEE: "This is not an exit."