Oh Justine darling, no worries. I don't deserve anything this Christmas, because I have been so flamboyantly remiss in sending mail when appropriate. Maybe I'll mail New Years cards.

Love you!

2003-12-23, notetojustine

Oh, my parents.

Last night we were going to decorate the tree. I was in the living room, curled up on the white couch, freezing to death, reading Great Expectations. (I started it and am really enjoying it so far - Pip cracks me up, it's engaging and wonderful, mostly.) My parents and brother came in to decorate the tree, but I was too tired and lazy to move. It was like waves of fatigue were rolling over me.

My mother started snapping at me, telling me to get up angrily - which is a quick way to make sure I stay where I am. She told me if I was tired, I should just go to bed. She has this huffy tone that she takes whenever she's angry with me - I hate it.

Whaaatever. I just stayed where I was.

My mom thinks I'm an observer and not a participant in this family. I think I've always been this way, and yelling at me is not any way to get me to change. I can be stubborn. I like to isolate myself further just to spite her when that happens.

Families are dumb. That's my deep thought of the morning.

I'm a part of this family and really resent it when they yell at me because they think I'm not. But I'm a part of this family my own way - I might not decorate the tree, but I sit and watch, and I take it all in.

2003-12-22, agh

Hello all.

Being home has been mostly great so far - sleeping soundly being my favorite recreational activity. Add to that good food, a fat cat, and a cute brother and I'm more than happy here.

It's not perfect, but it's pretty goddamn nice.

The parents sent me on gift buying mission for one of our relatives. They told me to get "something crafty" from the local artists' guild.

Nothing was really appealing to me - the pottery was not soul shattering, the scarves were just like everything else that's sold at places like this. But I came across a plate of ceramic pomegranates and was overcome with material lust. The glaze was gorgeous, and pomegranates are just so neat. I even tried to pick out something smaller and cheaper in the same glaze, or find some pomegranates that were not part of a set - I felt like Dorothy wandering the Nome King's lair, searching for green items. Except of course, these were these a stunning milky white and deep red glaze. Haunting and drippy.

Finally I broke down and got it, making sure I could return it if the parents decided it was too expensive, or too weird to give to my aunt. This was something I would want.

I've been thinking about people, and why giving gives me pleasure. I think it's a beautiful thing for a few reasons. I know I've talked about it before, but I love the feeling of sacrificing part of yourself to be part of something bigger than yourself. I mean, that your love with this other person is something outside of each of you, bigger than both. I like the act of giving up part of myself - giving away something I love - because of its selflessness. I covet this tray, but I will give it away.

Of course, I'm trying to rationalize my giving something that I want myself - which my father has done to me and I've never appreciated.

I prefer another kind of gift giving - one that's much harder - which is giving something that has particular significance for the person receiving. But I don't know my relative that well, and so I just have to give her what I want myself.

2003-12-21, pomegranates

The feeling of surfacing after sleeping for the first time in several days is exquisite. I'm still tired, and need to get back to sleeping regularly, but I just feel an overwhelming relief.

In the past three days, I slept about seven or eight hours, and then drove from Brooklyn the three hours home. (I had such a lovely time in Brooklyn - I think I've fallen head over heels in love with it.) I've never felt such a force of will in me - keep awake, keep your eyes open, focus on driving, get home.

My faithful steed Gudrun dragged me through the doors of my father's keep last night at about eight o'clock.

As I lay in bed, I realized that my room has become the weirdly furnished spare bedroom, that feels distinctly unlived in, and incapable of being a proper guestroom. There's one lamp, not enough blankets, random kitsch everywhere. It all feels incoherent.

2003-12-21, homeward

before / after

archives / website / hello book / diaryland