Friday, October 31, 2003
The good: it's about 90% certain that I'll be making the journey back to Indiana for Christmas (and it's only 90% because I don't yet have my e-ticket in hand). I'll be flying into Indianapolis on Christmas Eve and flying back to Norfolk late on the 30th, spending three days with my family near lovely Silver Lake, IN and three more with my favorite wanksta in Indy. [Yes, Scott, this means we need to make some plans - perhaps meeting for a drink here or here? Then again, perhaps I should hit the 501 by myself...] It'll be good to be in Indiana again, get back to my roots, and of course to spend some time with my family (I've not seen my baby sister in two years, my parents in over one, or my middle sister in about 9 months - and I haven't even met her new husband, as they married in Vegas, which I just couldn't swing). Of course, time with Stumpy, the #1 stunna, is always a beautiful and much-needed thing; he's been my best friend, my rock, the yin to my yang, for over 9 years now.
The weird: it's funny (that's funny-weird), but for some reason, whenever I talk with my parents, I feel the need to assure them that everything's "fine." I don't like them knowing when I'm down or depressed, because then they (especially Mom) worry, and there's really no need for them to do so. I mean, I'm an almost 33-year-old man (though I don't often feel like it); what good would it do for my parents to know that I'm feeling blue? Besides, blogging often makes for fine self-therapy.
The bad: damn it all to hell, I vow that this year Halloween's gonna be different, that I've gotten over (well, as much as one ever does) the fact that it's the day (11 years ago, R.I.P.) my beloved Grandpa passed from this mortal coil, and wha'happen? I still end up all kinds of "blah" for entirely different reasons. Dammit!
The weird: it's funny (that's funny-weird), but for some reason, whenever I talk with my parents, I feel the need to assure them that everything's "fine." I don't like them knowing when I'm down or depressed, because then they (especially Mom) worry, and there's really no need for them to do so. I mean, I'm an almost 33-year-old man (though I don't often feel like it); what good would it do for my parents to know that I'm feeling blue? Besides, blogging often makes for fine self-therapy.
The bad: damn it all to hell, I vow that this year Halloween's gonna be different, that I've gotten over (well, as much as one ever does) the fact that it's the day (11 years ago, R.I.P.) my beloved Grandpa passed from this mortal coil, and wha'happen? I still end up all kinds of "blah" for entirely different reasons. Dammit!
# posted by Thomas : 8:18 AM
