Titles fail me. Really, they do.
Aug. 11th, 2002 09:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
urbanamazonI haven't written for quite a while. Yeah, stuff's happened, but summer seems to have left me with a lack of initiative to write, for the most part. Here I go ...
My brother's wedding last week was .. well, I can't even bring myself to use the term 'experience', because the wedding itself was strangely unimportant to me. There were many things about it that I did not agree with, and I had to bite my tonuge on more than one occasion during the service. Jehovah's Witness is not a religion that I like, for many reasons, which I will not list. I hadn't stepped inside a church for over a year, and the experience was not one that I enjoyed.
After five years, I'm trying to meet my older brother and figure out his attitudes and extended family. When my parents took us to the 'hall' where the wedding was going to be performed, I was accosted by a slew of friends and family that I had never met. I knew no one outside of the bride's family and my own. I was intimidated, I was nervous, I was as shy as Hell, and for some reason, my dad thought I was being 'selfish'.
Selfish?
The next morning, on the day of the wedding, we woke up with no power. Some jerk had driven into a power pole somtime in the night, and our B&B was dark. Dad took the opportunity to give me a lecture about how I had given a 'bad first impression' that would forever taint others' opinions of me. He said that I had not shook the minister's hand at the church the previous day, with the gravity of a parent of a child who has brought dishonor to the family name. This is the man who tried to talk to me earlier about how I treated him like a stranger, like how he would treat someone he had deemed an asshole. With him working two jobs, me having my own as well as high school and homeowrk, I hardly see him.
When he left the room, I actually sat down and cried.
He gave a quiet lecture on how it was our responsibility to give my brother and his wife-to-be the best day of their lives. If it meant going a little farther than usual, then so be it. He said that I should be ashamed of the way I acted.
And I cried.
I felt like I had committed the worst crime in existence. I couldn't look my father in the eye for the rest of the trip. When my younger brother stepped into the room, I put on a mask so easily, hid the tears so well that he never even asked what was wrong. I smiled and spoke without and betrayal of the crushing dejection I felt.
And I needed a hug more than anything in the world. And the best person to do so was there.
After that, the banquet was alright. No alcohol, no smoking, and what my older thought was current dance music. Lots of slow dancing and blatant defiance of the 'bible-space between you and your partner' rule. Aside from the fact that I was so sick the next morning that I nearly passed out when I bought my new CD/MP3 player. I ended up sleeping in the van for about an hour, and waking up much better. Must've been the pillow.
And getting in the van and driving away wasn't as hard this time. I was able to smile.
Then there was this weekend. There's nothing more liberating than having the entire house to yourself. Unless, of course, it's someone else's house.
I love housesitting.
And then there's interPlay. It's amazing how many interesting people you can meet at an arts festival. Over the weekend, we became quite friendly with a pair of improvisors. Some of the sweetest and friendliest people you could ever meet. I figured out a magic trick by being a victim of it, I was offered a forty-dollar henna tattoo for my braided spike choker (declined), and was semi-seranaded with the 'I'm too Beautiful Blues'. Rob and Degan, we will meet again!
It's kind of funny how I originally went to interPlay to find people that I knew. I knew that so many alumni and classmates would visit, and this festival would be a chance to see them again. I didn't get to see all those I set out for, but I enjoyed seeing those I found. It's a little odd, seeing them out of school and knowing that I probably won't see them very much again.
Such is life, I suppose. Moving to their own futures, unforseeable, yet with a chance of crossing, paralleling, and colliding with others.
Maybe I'm just being random.
You're always random.
Maybe I'm not using this journal for what I originally planned it for. There's no real rules for it, but I'm feeling like ... like there's no definative point.
Does there have to be a point?
I suppose not, but what do I do with this?
You write. You read. You think.
Do I try and expose the world to my own shreds of philosophy or do I just dictate my life story?
That's up to me to decide.
Smartass.
Tyrant.
Bite me.
My brother's wedding last week was .. well, I can't even bring myself to use the term 'experience', because the wedding itself was strangely unimportant to me. There were many things about it that I did not agree with, and I had to bite my tonuge on more than one occasion during the service. Jehovah's Witness is not a religion that I like, for many reasons, which I will not list. I hadn't stepped inside a church for over a year, and the experience was not one that I enjoyed.
After five years, I'm trying to meet my older brother and figure out his attitudes and extended family. When my parents took us to the 'hall' where the wedding was going to be performed, I was accosted by a slew of friends and family that I had never met. I knew no one outside of the bride's family and my own. I was intimidated, I was nervous, I was as shy as Hell, and for some reason, my dad thought I was being 'selfish'.
Selfish?
The next morning, on the day of the wedding, we woke up with no power. Some jerk had driven into a power pole somtime in the night, and our B&B was dark. Dad took the opportunity to give me a lecture about how I had given a 'bad first impression' that would forever taint others' opinions of me. He said that I had not shook the minister's hand at the church the previous day, with the gravity of a parent of a child who has brought dishonor to the family name. This is the man who tried to talk to me earlier about how I treated him like a stranger, like how he would treat someone he had deemed an asshole. With him working two jobs, me having my own as well as high school and homeowrk, I hardly see him.
When he left the room, I actually sat down and cried.
He gave a quiet lecture on how it was our responsibility to give my brother and his wife-to-be the best day of their lives. If it meant going a little farther than usual, then so be it. He said that I should be ashamed of the way I acted.
And I cried.
I felt like I had committed the worst crime in existence. I couldn't look my father in the eye for the rest of the trip. When my younger brother stepped into the room, I put on a mask so easily, hid the tears so well that he never even asked what was wrong. I smiled and spoke without and betrayal of the crushing dejection I felt.
And I needed a hug more than anything in the world. And the best person to do so was there.
After that, the banquet was alright. No alcohol, no smoking, and what my older thought was current dance music. Lots of slow dancing and blatant defiance of the 'bible-space between you and your partner' rule. Aside from the fact that I was so sick the next morning that I nearly passed out when I bought my new CD/MP3 player. I ended up sleeping in the van for about an hour, and waking up much better. Must've been the pillow.
And getting in the van and driving away wasn't as hard this time. I was able to smile.
Then there was this weekend. There's nothing more liberating than having the entire house to yourself. Unless, of course, it's someone else's house.
I love housesitting.
And then there's interPlay. It's amazing how many interesting people you can meet at an arts festival. Over the weekend, we became quite friendly with a pair of improvisors. Some of the sweetest and friendliest people you could ever meet. I figured out a magic trick by being a victim of it, I was offered a forty-dollar henna tattoo for my braided spike choker (declined), and was semi-seranaded with the 'I'm too Beautiful Blues'. Rob and Degan, we will meet again!
It's kind of funny how I originally went to interPlay to find people that I knew. I knew that so many alumni and classmates would visit, and this festival would be a chance to see them again. I didn't get to see all those I set out for, but I enjoyed seeing those I found. It's a little odd, seeing them out of school and knowing that I probably won't see them very much again.
Such is life, I suppose. Moving to their own futures, unforseeable, yet with a chance of crossing, paralleling, and colliding with others.
Maybe I'm just being random.
You're always random.
Maybe I'm not using this journal for what I originally planned it for. There's no real rules for it, but I'm feeling like ... like there's no definative point.
Does there have to be a point?
I suppose not, but what do I do with this?
You write. You read. You think.
Do I try and expose the world to my own shreds of philosophy or do I just dictate my life story?
That's up to me to decide.
Smartass.
Tyrant.
Bite me.
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Rob: "Oh, oh! I'll be one of his beautiful backup singers!"
Date: 2002-08-11 09:26 pm (UTC)Comin' down the plains
Stealing wheat and barley
And all the other grains
And it's a heave-ho! hi-ho!
Farmers bar your doors
When you see the Jolly Roger
On Regina's mighty shores.
Best weekend of the summer.
So far.