Pages

Tuesday, December 22

Happy Merry

I’ve been home a few days and to say it hasn’t required quite an adjustment would be a lie. It’s not so much that I dislike being home, but that I have to readjust to living with other people who’s needs, desires and actions affect mine. It’s certainly strange.

Luckily I’ve had a few things to occupy my time.

I’ve jumped into the kitchen with both feet and plenty of flour. And thanks to Mother’s favorite new kitchen addition—a TV—I’ve made it my sanctuary. Already I’ve baked sugar cookies, buttery almond cookies and iced Mother’s gingerbread cookies. I was even able to set some dough aside for when Father and co (this time including their new dog, Toby) come into town. Yesterday Coco and I spent a good deal of time melting chocolate and dipping gummy bears, almonds, and cashews into it. It created quite a delicious concoction.

I’ve been spending a bit of time with Adult. From all of our bonding time I’ve come to a glorious conclusion—I completely and totally took him for granted before. When we were dating I was a semi-horrible girlfriend/person because I thought he would always be there and that I was more important to him than he was to me. Talk about conceited bitch. Well, I now realize that while we’re almost definitely not meant to be romantically involved, he’s one of my dearest friends. And it’s not that I adore him, because adoration is a novelty and doesn’t always develop beyond that. I really and truly care about him and enjoy spending time with him.

Another thing that has brightened my spirits is a visit and show by one of my favorite bands and favorite people—All Get Out. They played in town on Sunday night, their last show for the year, and it was amazing! (A review will be coming soon)

^Can you find me?^

Correction: Their set was amazing. Everything else left a lot to be desired. That, I think, was the most pleasant surprise I’ve gotten thus far. That scene—the music scene in my Dirty Dirty town—used to be my scene. I loved it. I knew the people who created the scene; I knew a lot of the bands; I knew a lot of the crowd. I thought that was where I belonged and missed it when I moved up and out. Being back at this show, though, showed me the error of my thinking and clarified just how much I’ve changed. Despite the fact that I knew a large handful of people there, I didn’t want to talk to them. The large crowd and omnipresent cloud of cigarette smoke annoyed me. I had no interest in the opening bands or trying to get to the front for all of them. I was there to see All Get Out and that’s all I really wanted to do. Luckily, it seemed Coco felt the same way and we stuck together while Twin ran around with her jailbait high school posse.

I’m so glad I’ve matured past the point those kids are at.

And I’m so glad that tomorrow at 10am I’ll be sitting at the airport because I am city bound and glory be. (An altered quote from Kevin Devine—educate yourself).

Yes, that’s right. This big apple baby is once again making her annual pilgrimage “home”. Because both Parents’ families still live up in Yankeeville (Long Island, NY) we spend Winter Holiday (political correctness!) up there, where I happily and greedily soak up the accent, pastries, pizza and driving techniques. Mother might not be fond of the “harsh” New York culture, but I love it. I also love seeing my family because most of them seem like overdone parodies as opposed to real people. Example: Father’s father wears unbuttoned silk shirts to expose his chest hair and gold chains, a gold and diamond horse head pinky ring, he invents and uses racial and homophobic slurs, recently moved to Florida and dates multiple women at once. Mother’s youngest sister bought the second youngest sister’s son real, legit for shit numchucks. He’s maybe 8 and they’re illegal in New York. I could go on, but I have far too large of a family for that. Moral of the story—they’re crazy and I love them.

And I love Beastie Boys, who are now coming from my stereo. So, I’m leaving you for them. I apologize, but you understand.

Happy Merry.

No comments:

Post a Comment