April 30, 2008

hey mister rain cloud

Posted by Astra under life, washindun | Tags: , , , , , |
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The signs are adding up: tomorrow is my last day of work at the Think Tank, final papers due May 6 and May 8, graduation May 16, then two weeks until we load the cats in the car and make for the West Coast.

I can’t believe how much time has passed. I was at lunch the other day listening to my boss talk about his favorite clubs in the city, and you know - before that I really thought I was quite the DC denizen - but listening to him I realized there is so much of this city I have missed since I got here two years ago. I know I’ll miss the city, but I have to wonder: will the city miss me? Sometimes the only thing reminding me I’m a DC resident is my overwhelming rage at vapid tourists on the metro. Tomorrow night though, we’re seeing OK Go, The Hush Sound, and Panic! At the Disco @ DAR Constitution Hall… so I’ll be sure to let you know how that goes.

I also can’t believe my last day of work is here. I mean, for all the pissing and moaning I did about having to wake up at 8am, I look back and realize I actually didn’t have a bad experience there. That’s so typical of me - I’ll hate something while I’m doing it, then as I’m about to leave it, suddenly I realize I’ve actually loved it all along and never want anything to change. It’s weird though, all this expectation for The Last Day. I guess they’ll take me out to lunch (if they remember I exist… I always basically thought I was the Meg Griffin of my team) and I’ll make some comments about law school and it’ll be awkward and laden with expectations of me telling them what a great experience I had, and them telling me what a great intern I’ve been. So we’ll do all that. And then at 5pm I’ll walk out the door, and the finality of it will crash onto my head and I’ll probably do something idiotic like start crying.

Lastly, on this disjointed laundry-list of things that is the insanity of my past week or so… the weekly newsflash of my dysfunctional family is that I am apparently not important enough to warrant an international phone call from my father, who is vacationing abroad, to let me know he is extending his vacation. He told my grandmother, who I rarely talk to - but serendipitously I did to talk to her the day he told her - but if he hadn’t told her, I would be stroking out at this point! I mean seriously - if you are traveling abroad, and you extend your vacation, you call your family! Because at this point, three days after they were supposed to return home, with no contact and no idea where they were - I’d be at the embassy of the country they traveled to filing a missing persons claim, and he’d get dragged off the beach by INTERPOL… all because he couldn’t bother to call me.

I mean, I’ve already been drifting in and out of irate moods (for various reasons, notably certain controversies that I can not escape on the blogs I read no matter how hard I try to ignore them) - so for full disclosure I’ll say I’m somewhat susceptible to becoming more irate by an aloof dad who refused to inform me of his desire to remain 10,000 miles away from me; but nonetheless, it doesn’t help sweeten my mood at all.

The point of this entry: I hope that newfound freedom (for freedom here, read: time to write papers) and a rockin rock concert tomorrow night will lift the curse of crankiness that has slipped over me the past few days. Fingers crossed.

 

November 28, 2007

An Open Letter to My Unconceived Children;

Posted by Astra under personal | Tags: , , |
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Dear future lights of my life,

I am writing this letter now so that no matter what happens I can, hopefully, remember what it is I meant to accomplish by committing to the act of having children.  (Which, shocking though it may be to some of you who I *know* read this, I do plan to do by the age of 30, no later than 32).

Liz’s mom says that we don’t make the same mistakes our parents did, we make different ones.  That sticks with me, and I’m writing this collect my thoughts because I hope it will help alleviate some of the pain I am feeling now.  I watched my family fall apart, slowly and painfully, and I watched every member of it give up on us at some point, which, for a child (even a grown one) is one of the most painful things imaginable.  There is damage done to me that I believe is permanent, that can never be undone and that I will have to live with forever - but at least I can channel it into self-awareness as a human being and a mother, and it can have some positive impact on the world.  It’s comforting that my own wounds can come to some good.

Everyone says parenting is hard, that nobody knows how to do it, that it’s terrifying, and all of the things I think they kind of fabricate both as a mix to keep teenagers from doing it and to justify their own mistakes.  As I look down my own road to that eventuality, I see it quite differently.  It seems that I know, if not exactly how to do it, then exactly how not to do it.  And that’s something.   So here I’ve written something - I call it a letter but it’s more a collection of promises to you, to my children who are not even ideas yet, whose shapes have not even begun to form in the mind of the universe yet - because I need to know that I can always have this to look back on, with you one day, and make sure I am keeping all my silent promises to you.

Liz and I have talked about this, and you can assume that these statements are “we” statements just as much as they are “I” statements.

I promise that, no matter what, you will never have to wonder if I love you.  I promise you that I will never make you wonder if I will be there from one day to the next, or how long I will be sticking around this time.  I promise to raise you with love, humor, kindness, and patience.  I promise you that whatever happens between your mother and I, you will never believe it could have been your fault.  I promise you that I will always be your mother and you will always be my child, even when you are 50 years old, and I will never expect you to take care of me emotionally.  I promise that you will never have to spend time covering my mistakes.  I promise that the safest place in your life will be our home, for as long as there is breath in my body to make it that way.

I promise to tell you that you are beautiful because I have not seen you yet but I know you are the most beautiful human being God Himself ever conceived of.  I promise I will not let you forget that even when you are in high school and kids are awful.  I promise that I will never berate, belittle, or ridicule your dreams.  I promise you that your mother and I will do everything we can to make those dreams within reach for you, and teach you how to get to them.  We will encourage you no matter what, and praise you enthusiastically for every small success, even if your choices are not what we would have chosen ourselves.  I promise you that I will remember that, no matter how small you are, from the moment you learn to speak you have a voice, an opinion, and a personality that is valid and unique, and I will treat you accordingly. I promise that I will never get so wrapped up in my own troubles that I can’t see yours; I will never be too far away to talk to, and I will always do my best to understand what is going on in your life.

I promise you unconditional love.  I promise to believe in you without compromise.  I promise to be completely in awe of your talents, which will be different than mine and which I may not understand, but which I promise to see as valuable, important, and valid.  I promise that no matter who you bring home, I will still love you just as much.  I promise that no matter what you do, I will still love you just as much.  I promise that I will always remember that I am the adult, that you are the child, and I will not blame you for my own mistakes.

I can’t promise you that you will somehow escape childhood without pain, or that your mother and I will never fight, or even that things will not change in our family.  But I can promise you that whatever happens, I will lay down my life to keep you safe as best I can.  I promise you that even if the world ends and your mother and I split up, we will do our best to see past our pain and be adult enough to be civil when you are involved, because our love for you is one thing we will always have in common.

I promise you that even though we may not have much, you will always be comfortable and taken care of.  I promise that even if we have next to nothing, your mother and I will have been financially responsible enough to save money, so you can be well-educated and go to the college you want to go to. I promise that I will never use money or privilege as emotional blackmail.  I promise that your mother and I will teach you, through knowledge and through example, financial responsibility from a young age so that you will not find yourself in trouble when you leave home.  I promise I will never ‘cut you off.’

I promise that, no matter what happens, no matter how bad things get, the vow your mother and I are going to swear before God and before our families is something I value at the same level as life itself and I will fight for it and I will never give up on it, I will stay and fight, and I will fight until there is no strength left in my body; I promise you that you will never have to watch your parents give up on your family.

I can’t promise you that life will be happy.  I can’t promise you that you will have no pain.  I can’t promise that I will not hurt you or make mistakes.  I can promise that I will.  But you will never, ever, ever, have to wonder if I love you.

 

October 18, 2007

you wouldn’t like me

Posted by Astra under {没有} | Tags: , , , |
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New haircut.  New weather.  Autumn brings on a lot of changes, obviously.

I’m still pretty overwhelmed by life (that’s what this is supposed to help with) - but I’m trying to focus on the positive, because that’s what’s going to get me through all this.

So I know this is ridiculous (maybe) and my mother has been all over me about making “depressing sweeping generalizations” that would befit some depressive Russian alcoholic writer (don’t I sound like a lovely person?) ~ but I was watching one of my favorite shows last night and the last line was “are there any happy families?”

The first thing I said, of course, was a resounding no- that’s not surprising given I did not have a happy family and I can’t really imagine what it’s like to be in one.  But when my mom made some comment I found myself having to defend what I’d said, and it was easier than I thought.  What I came up with was: there are families that love each other, but there are no happy families.

My best friend would say, “existentially, nobody is really happy.”  (I can hear his words as I type that!) - and that might be true but it’s not what I’m talking about.

People weren’t meant to really love each other, except for maybe one other person.  A family is a group, with multiple people, all but 2 of which did not choose to be in that group or in that relationship.  So basically, family involves being stuck with two people (or more) that you didn’t choose, and probably wouldn’t have chosen had you been given the opportunity.

But we learn to love each other, the bonds of the group grow strong (some stronger than others), and that’s what makes a family.  The only truly happy family would be one where each member of the group had chosen to be there; since this is impossible you can only really say that  there are families who love each other, families who stick together for longer than others, etc - you can’t say they are happy because they are only making do with what was given them.

I come from a strange example of family; my experience of home is not one that I particularly idealize as it was fairly unpleasant at times (I have fought to make this a legitimate statement among my relatives) - but I do believe in family.  And I believe in choosing a partner, marrying, and all of that.  Or not marrying, and just being in love - that’s good too.   But that’s a contract entered into by 2 consenting adults who have the right to withdraw from it at any time, not so with children.

Family, as it exists in this world, is a social construct - it’s an instrument of maintaining social order, without it there would be very little foundation on which to build larger, more encompassing systems (read: government).  But it’s not about happiness, it’s about protection, order, reproduction, and social function.

So no, there are no happy families, only happy couples, and families who love each other.

And I don’t know about you, but I’d settle for having both.

 


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