Maybe That's All Family Really Is, A Group Of People Who Miss The Same Imaginary Place

Apparently, I have a computer curse. I finally got back my laptop, but everything on it was completely erased. I guess part of me knew it was going to happen, but still, to have to recover all 2000 songs on my ipod is not a fun task. If people want to take pity on me and burn me some CDs, it would be greatly appreciated. Meanwhile, at the office, my computer completely died and I spent the day hovering over people like a buzzard, waiting to use their computers. At least I can blog easily at home, if nothing else.

A bunch of us we're sitting in my yard Tuesday night smoking a bowl, as my father sat in the living room right by us, grading papers. They asked me if he cared. Honestly, I don't know. I don't know if he cares because truly he has no idea what's going on. Ever. It's not that he's senile exactly, it's more that he couldn't really care less about what anyone else does as long as it doesn't effect him in any way. He's not selfish though. It's hard to explain really. Most of my life is hard to explain.

People think it must be fun to live in my house. Well, it is and it isn't. It's one of those situations that from the outside seems better than it is. I understand that. I understand that for anyone who grew up in a house of rules, my living situation would seem like a dream come true, but just so you know, it isn't all it's cracked up to be. I never really had any rules beyond common courtesy, which isn't even really a rule. I never had a curfew, or places I wasn't allowed to go, or people I wasn't allowed to mingle with, or even things I was allowed to do. My parents wouldn't be happy to find their children's bottles and bongs and cigarettes lying around the house, but wouldn't do anything more than place them on the kitchen table to make it clear that they knew what was going on. I think they hoped our desire to please them would be enough to makes us stop such behavior.

Harry never developed that desire. I had it intensely for a while, but never stopped doing anything. I just hid everything better out of respect for them, and admittedly, to make it all more dangerous and appealing for myself. There was also of course, my underlying need to be the "better child," to one-up my brother in the eyes of our parents. I have real superiority issues, which is funny because I also have really low self confidence issues. I'm sure the two, as opposite as they seem, are directly related. It would only make sense.

What I only came to realize sitting outside discussing my house with Tommy, is that part of me would give absolutely anything to live in a family where there were rules and regulations. I guess things would be different if my mom were still living here. Without her, this house is a free for all. Far beyond the throngs of homeless friends my brother brings to live here, and the strung-out jazz musicians my father fills our living room with daily, there's a genuine lack of reality here. It's as though this house is in some alternate universe, where nothing means anything. Everyone’s free to live their life any way they please.

My parents are free spirits, and obviously, their four children followed suit. It’s nice to know that we have our freedom, but it’s easy to mistake that freedom for a lack of caring, a lack of responsibility on their part. I think that’s why I have such issues with my father. He can’t seem to make up his mind about how much space to give or not give me, so he either ends up driving me crazy or ignoring me completely. Harry just ignores everyone. Sometimes I think that if they weren’t all musicians, if the homeless jazz men didn’t fill our house, that my life at home would be completely silent. It’s scary to think about how far apart a family can grow.

Soon after my parents got divorced, although I think it had been building since I graduated high school, my desire to impress them dissolved. It sounds so cliched, but I did come to see them just as people, two very fucked up people, who didn’t have any more of a clue about life than I did. I love my parents, don’t get me wrong, but they aren’t the ones determining my decisions anymore. My life is my own, whether I want it to be or not. I think you learn how to be independent pretty quickly when you feel abandoned. I’ve never realized that I felt this way before. Abandoned. Not by my mother or father exclusively, but by a kind of family I envision a family to be. The kind of family my friends all seem to have. My mother is my best friend. My father is a casual acquaintance. My brother is a kid I only talk to drunk at a party. My family is something that ceased to exist a long time ago.

I guess it’s cool to know that I can sit in my backyard and smoke and drink and not have to hide anything. It’s nice to know that my money, my time, my life is mine to manage. I am in charge of my choices, my existence. I can go anywhere and do anything. I am completely free. I just sometimes wish that I didn’t have to be. I just sometimes wish that I could return to that place that no longer exists. I just sometimes wish we were still a family.

Maybe Zach Braff had it perfectly right. Maybe that’s all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place. I miss it more each day. I miss home.