Looking with new eyes

I have had the same username since I was 17 years old. 12 years later, heartaches and breakups later, it seemed like some time to start afresh, to look with new eyes. It also seemed like it was time to stop not saying all the things I want to say.

So here I am. I think this will be small, the way my journal originally was. I think it'll manage to stay that way since I'm separating a lot of my fannish stuff to another journal.

This will be just me. Just stuff going on in my life, things I care about, dumb stories about my dogs.

Oh, and if I added you? Yes, you know me. I only added folk who I knew from my other journal.

See, it should be easy to keep that small. How many people really, truly care about that stuff?

Family is what you make of it

I struggle with my family. My immediate family is easier - I'm damn lucky to have good parents, people that I'm close to. They don't exactly get me in any tangible way - they're conservative Republicans from Montana who never went to college. To them, my entire life is befuddling - queer, radical progressive, globe-hopping, graduate-school-attending, lower middle-class living.

My parents hearts broke more than a little when I didn't go to law school. They break often, I imagine, but my parents love me and that's enough for them.

My extended family is more complicated.

My mother's parents are in town tonight with my cousin and her son. This cousin is only 2 months younger than me - we spent every summer of our childhood together in some way. We have never had much in common, Mandy and I - she wanted to get married right out of high school, always hated reading, always wanted kids. She used trade in one jetter for another (jetter=jet pilot), always chasing the illusive marriage-and-kids dream.

I never had that.

Mandy and I ... struggle with each other. She wants us to be close, to share everything, to "chat" on the phone every night. I ... don't. She's my cousin. If she needs a place to stay, she can always stay with me. If the shit hits the fan, I'm there. But can't we be real about some things, like that we have nothing in common? Not interests, not passions, not lifestyles. She hates my dogs and freaked out when I came out, you know?

So, as much as it'll be good to see my grandparents (well, my grandma, mostly - I'll write about her later - she actually likes my tattoos), it's always weird when it's with Mandy.

And Mandy is going to be in town once a week for at least the next month.

But I can take deep breaths, right?

And, with that, I'll go catch my bus to see them.

Deep breaths.