Books & Beanies....

The Art Of Accepting Winter

I've opted for beanies lately, and I'd never felt better about any fashion or lifestyle choice.  If that seems funny to you, I'm seriously not joking.  It's amazing how much better I feel keeping in the heat.... and possibly the thoughts in my head. 

That's really not the purpose of this post.  This post is about family.  Not the family you make but the family you are born with, blessed with.  The family you can't change.... well, that's not true.  You can change anything you bloody want, at least mentally, but I'm talking DNA -- The crazy lot you are born into.  

**For this post I may go in and out of British.  I'm not suited to apologize for being partially, in a blog post, British... but know it's temporary and only reflective of where my head is here and now.

And so on with it....
I recently finished an amazing book.  One that resonated with me but didn't literally mean anything to me.  It's called A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby and it was brilliant.  It focused around around 4 people who met on the top of a building the evening they had all committed themselves to suicide.... but the story comes with what happens next.

I was amazed at how I was sucked in and wasn't able to put it down. I'm always like this with books but it was the first time I'd read in a while and it felt like I had gone home.

Once I finished that book I moved on to the next.  **I should mention that I had a little book-to-movie shopping spree on Amazon, and all these books will be films this year.  That's why I'm reading them.  As much as a I can be a bookworm, since I wasn't born in another decade as I had hoped, I am still slave to modern technologies.

The second book, which I've only indulged in 41 pages thus far, was a lot less enlightening and much more heavy.  I absorb much of reality like a sponge, but if it even mildly hurts I instantly turn to glass, it wipes away and I move on.  What I didn't discover until tonight was that the sponge part doesn't ever really go away.  I thought it had!  I never had ill feelings about the past for the most part.... and tonight while reading the first three chapters of This Is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper I had the most sickening memories of witnessing my significant other in bed with someone else.  This was years before Sean, but I remembered it vividly.  With every emotional slice to the character, which is incredibly descriptive and graphic in this book, I begin to feel like I was feeling it in person all over again --  the vomit arose in my throat while the tears swelled in my eyes. 

It was still agonizing, even as I repeatedly told myself IT wasn't me.  THIS wasn't my situation!....

But, that's the thing with books, movies.  I remember seeing the Titanic and even though there was NO correlation there, I cried for 3 nights thinking of had it been me (I was like 12.  No judgement!) 

What can I say.  I'm emotional.... but also emotionless.... either way, it never seems appropriate.  **But that's completely different topic.  WHAT this post is about is something, that as much as they were different, the books had in common.

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I hardly ever blame my family for anything.  I don't scoff at those who do.  Maybe I rreally am as fucked up as I see myself, but I don't see the blame for any of my troubles in the direction of any of them.  And I could be wrong, but I doubt it.

Both books I read some of the characters were crass and negative towards there upbringing.  Evaluating, breaking down the way their parents acted, their personalities.  Critiquing their qualities and flaws and then relating to them and saying "well, that's why I am who I am."  

Maybe I'm not old enough to feel that way.   Maybe I just don't hate my family -- yet.  Maybe I haven't seen the similarities in our flaws -- yet.  Maybe I don't want to.... but again, that's not really the point is it. (rhetorical -- I want to answer it for you, since this is about me after all.)

I attribute it to the fact that why would I blame the people I care about most for my problems?  I've had just as much chance to be my own person as Adam & Eve were.  I've made my own choices.... but it's really not about that either.  [excuse me.  I'm working this out in my head as I go]

When it comes to MY life it's never going to be anyone's fault about where I end up or who I end up being.  I guess I'm just trying to say that I'm happy, in fact obliged to take responsibility for my actions, demeanor, character, etc.  

I would like to stay decades away from blame and comparing myself to someone else, especially those I love most.... my family. 

I guess, long story (not so short), I own up to my downfalls.  I'm hardly an amazing person.  Sometimes I'm hardly a person.  I have incredible flaws, but THEIR MINE!  And I don't want to share them with anyone.  Maybe that's a huge problem within itself, but I don't care.  I'm happy being selfish with my flaws, my downfalls, my problems.  With them, I'm one- Me.

If you got nothing from this, and it's very likely you have (or haven't -- not sure what's correct grammatically -- another flaw), I hope you take possession of your mistakes, your problems and your character.  I don't want you to be a character in a book blaming your elders for your misgivings. We are lucky to BE OUR OWN.  Don't give an ounce of that to anyone else, ever... well unless it's positive, then THANK AWAY!

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