The Bloggers With The Most To Say
Home Again...
So, I am in store for another strange Melbourne visit this weekend. It's always really fucking weird there. Not weird in an unfamiliar sense because Melbourne is frozen, exactly the way I left it. Snowbirds like to think it's paradise. So it really has nothing to do with the place...
It's really just the people from high school who make it weird. Seeing them stuck in suspended animation at dead-end jobs is kind of saddening. Then, after two or three days, I start to feel like a stupid-ass fly that got stuck in a fat vat of the cheapest Maple syrup and was locked away in a kind of amber suspended animation. Everybody from high school is exactly where I left them. All of my old friends.
The last time I was there was Christmas, and I ran into about a thousand fucking people I wanted to avoid at the grocery store. Like, last time I found myself in the cereal aisle with this gargantuan doofus, an ex-jockbully, whose sole purpose was to humiliate the fat kids during P.E. He just kind of eyed me from behind a box of Cocoa Puffs. He was reading the "Nutrition Facts" like they were the key to existence. He didn't say anything. That was good, because I didn't really have much to say to him either.
And then I saw Connie on the milk aisle, and I eyed her from behind a box of yogurt. She didn't say anything. I kind of looked through boxes of yogurt, you know, for just a few seconds to see if she'd notice. She didn't say anything, which was probably good because I probably would've had to explain why I was so damned interested in yogurt anyway.
But to be honest I wish she had said something, or I wish I had said something. It's strange to be in a place with your past where you'll avoid talking to an ex-crush just the same as you'll avoid it with an ex-bully.
In any case, I'm going to Mebourne this weekend to root through an entirely different shit-ton of "past." I'm helping my mother clean out the nest. She and my dad are getting a divorce. That's no real big fucking surprise, you know, divorce never really hits out of the blue. It usually comes after 100,000 pubic-hair-studded bars of soap, 17 tense vacations to visit the grandparents, 25 money-burning Christmases, 1,000,000 arguments, 3 kids, and infidelity. After all that misery my dad decided the 23 year old desk clerk at Grumman would be an excellent path to rejuvenating sex and more misery.
Now I get to listen to my mom bitch about his behavior, and I get to tell her again that we all saw this coming. What gets me is the fact that it doesn't even seem like she's depressed. She's not shattered by my father's flippant dismissal of 25 years of history, she's acting as though he's somehow one-upped her. I guess he has. And I don't know what the fuck he's thinking. Idiot.
And that is why I don't feel like I'm going home at all. I feel like I'm going to an acquaintance's house. Ever since this shit started happening, and I discovered that neither parent is guilt-free or all that wise or savvy, I kind of learned that they're not immortal. The way they were, anyway. Back when I was 5.
Kind of horrifying to learn that the two people you once worshiped as gods are actually very fragile, very fallible, and very, very impermanent. Nothing in this world is permanent. Life is just a series of changes. The stuff in-between change is fluff...
-S
It's really just the people from high school who make it weird. Seeing them stuck in suspended animation at dead-end jobs is kind of saddening. Then, after two or three days, I start to feel like a stupid-ass fly that got stuck in a fat vat of the cheapest Maple syrup and was locked away in a kind of amber suspended animation. Everybody from high school is exactly where I left them. All of my old friends.
The last time I was there was Christmas, and I ran into about a thousand fucking people I wanted to avoid at the grocery store. Like, last time I found myself in the cereal aisle with this gargantuan doofus, an ex-jockbully, whose sole purpose was to humiliate the fat kids during P.E. He just kind of eyed me from behind a box of Cocoa Puffs. He was reading the "Nutrition Facts" like they were the key to existence. He didn't say anything. That was good, because I didn't really have much to say to him either.
And then I saw Connie on the milk aisle, and I eyed her from behind a box of yogurt. She didn't say anything. I kind of looked through boxes of yogurt, you know, for just a few seconds to see if she'd notice. She didn't say anything, which was probably good because I probably would've had to explain why I was so damned interested in yogurt anyway.
But to be honest I wish she had said something, or I wish I had said something. It's strange to be in a place with your past where you'll avoid talking to an ex-crush just the same as you'll avoid it with an ex-bully.
In any case, I'm going to Mebourne this weekend to root through an entirely different shit-ton of "past." I'm helping my mother clean out the nest. She and my dad are getting a divorce. That's no real big fucking surprise, you know, divorce never really hits out of the blue. It usually comes after 100,000 pubic-hair-studded bars of soap, 17 tense vacations to visit the grandparents, 25 money-burning Christmases, 1,000,000 arguments, 3 kids, and infidelity. After all that misery my dad decided the 23 year old desk clerk at Grumman would be an excellent path to rejuvenating sex and more misery.
Now I get to listen to my mom bitch about his behavior, and I get to tell her again that we all saw this coming. What gets me is the fact that it doesn't even seem like she's depressed. She's not shattered by my father's flippant dismissal of 25 years of history, she's acting as though he's somehow one-upped her. I guess he has. And I don't know what the fuck he's thinking. Idiot.
And that is why I don't feel like I'm going home at all. I feel like I'm going to an acquaintance's house. Ever since this shit started happening, and I discovered that neither parent is guilt-free or all that wise or savvy, I kind of learned that they're not immortal. The way they were, anyway. Back when I was 5.
Kind of horrifying to learn that the two people you once worshiped as gods are actually very fragile, very fallible, and very, very impermanent. Nothing in this world is permanent. Life is just a series of changes. The stuff in-between change is fluff...
-S
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