home again home again

On the 30th of December, 2010, I stood on the windy winter beach and hurled my voice Southward across the sea. I don't think it got very far; my lungs throw like a girl. But the water was like silkily shattering glass: green, smooth & sharp. Gulls flew past me every now & again, low over the water - as if they thought I was shouting into the sky like they do, so didn't mind my presence. It was a shame, I thought, that there was no one to photograph the scene, as my pink sweater would have made a nice contrast with the colors of sand, sky and sea. It was a perfect moment. I fit, like a piece in a puzzle, into the scene.
Not so with my family. I am realizing that, no matter how well I think I know them, I am operating out my knowledge of them in the past. Sometimes that works great. Other times it perpetuates past hurts. I also realized that part of the reason I have more fun with my friends than with my family is that with friends, I try to. It felt really weird to figure that out, 'cause I knew it, but was somehow too lethargic to do anything about it. I just lay on my back staring at the ceiling fan while my mother and sister argued about where to go to dinner and my dad stormed out to "get the car ready" - really to cool his head. And this was supposed to be our family time, where we enjoyed one another's company. We just... none of us were excited about it. We didn't expect to entertain each other, or to laugh with one another. All we saw - all we generally see - is the tensions and habitual arguments and pains that we go through/put one another through. And all I managed to do about it was stare at a ceiling fan.

The yearly family beach vacation was mostly like that paragraphs above. The beach was its fantastic, magical, natural, beautiful - you get the picture - self. It even gave such an abundance of shells that even my grandmother, who has been going to that same beach for a good forty or so years, was all astonishment. We found more of these puppies than we cared to count, in all sizes, from 2-3 mm long to 8-9 cm long. I mean, that shit was crazy. Not to mention some of these, these, these, and plenty of these. Then the family bit was more along the lines of the second paragraph. Familiar, mostly friendly, but with the usual crazy floating just underneath, just suppressed in honor of the words "beach" and "vacation". I learned a lot about my family. Coming back and looking at it from a more grown up perspective... I learn more every time. I now know that what my family calls crazy and impossible is more like lonely and helpless - although sometimes, I grant you, it's manipulative and controlling. It just depends on the degree.
Sigh. Anyway. There's more to say, but I just remembered I wanted to read something before tonight's new years' party.
Remind me to talk about vanity & comfort, ok? Here's a teaser trailer:
If being girly means vanity, selfishness, and wantonly spending money, I want none of it. I will proudly be un-girly. I would much rather be ladylike.