Dec. 25th, 2012

flexagon: (racing-turtle)
Come around at Christmas
I really have to see you
Smile at me slyly
Another festive compromise.


I feel like the embodiment of every parent's worst nightmare. Here I sit in the airport, and I am BITTERLY resentful about having to travel to see parents (both [livejournal.com profile] heisenbug's and mine). I don't miss any of these people and I don't want to disrupt our lives to fly across the country, fuck up my workout schedule, forget what I'm doing at work and endure forced family-time. I am cruel: I want to shake these people and say "you had us 35 years ago! 40 years ago! Aren't you kind of, you know, OVER IT by now?" But they will never be over it. Parenthood does that to people.

My mother-in-law wasn't very understanding of my desire to do acro with the Portland monkey crew tomorrow night, and my mother (who was) had the nerve to say this is supposed to be a relaxing vacation for me. (Bullshit! if that's what it was, I'd be staying in Boston). At a party with friends on Sunday I felt kind of disconnected too, but that was fine, because that crowd didn't mind my being quiet and taking little book-reading breaks in another room. I know that my mother would see that kind of self-care behavior as rudeness bordering on a direct attack.

All the free-floating peace that I can gather up when in my city, doing my own thing, vaporizes in the presence of older family like so much dry ice. AGH, fuck it. There's this lovely wall right here, and dwelling on this doesn't do me as much good as stretching and doing handstands would.

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