On One Hand

October 26, 2003

Home Sweet Home

Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 11:31 pm

I went home Saturday afternoon and stayed through Sunday. It was nice to be back home for a while, but I couldn’t avoid a few minor tiffs and serious discussions with my parents. My mom got mad when I told her I left a book “at home,” meaning that I left it in my dorm, because she is not ready for my “home” to be anywhere but with her. Both my parents were dissapointed when I talked to them about getting drunk. I never thought I would tell them about drinking, but my mom asked me if I “have ever tried alcohol” and I can’t lie. I explained that I am not getting drunk very often, but anything at all is too much for my parents. Before I left home this fall, my mom told me to refrain from drinking “at least until you get out of college.” My parents demanded more information after hearing the news so I started explaining the night I got drunk from beginning to end. (I picked the most recent get-together since it was still fresh in my mind.) I got to the part where I had taken three shots when my mom gasped and said that three shots is a lot. I decided to stop talking there. So my parents think I took three shots. I’m sorry mom, I’m sorry dad, I’m not the innocent five-year-old wanting to be a weather man that I used to be.

While I was standing next to my sister in the kitchen, she bent down to pet the dog. I leaned over and messed up her hair. She stood up quickly, smacking my face with the back of her head. “God damn it” I yelled, rubbing my nose and teeth. It hurt like a bitch and my lip was swelling in the shape of a cherry on the right side. My sister was angry and demanded an apology. As anoying as I may have been, I don’t see how she could be acting so wronged when I was the one who was hurt.

I went up to my old bedroom and decided to clean up the books and school papers scattered across the ground. Seeing as how I’m not living at home anymore, there isn’t any good reason to have a mess in my room. I took a few moments to flip through two old time trackers from my junior and senior years of high school. Much more than popularity contest-filled yearbooks ever could, old time trackers remind me of what I was doing during high school and make me nostalgic for those years. I originally got the time trackers with the intent of keeping track of assignments but always filled them with notes and drawings instead. As I fliped through the pages, every poem or sketch reminded me of someone I was thinking of when I made it, someone who saw and commented on it, something that was on my mind that day. I had so many plans. I was dying for a highschool relationship. I was planning to change the culture culture of the school with the diversity club, hoping to win the respect of some people I really admired in spite of being gay. Oh God I wanted so bad to move to New York City after high school. New York to me was the only truly perfect place – I would be allowed to be eccentric and still fit in, I would be allowed to be queer and not feel the judgment of the world pressing in on me. If I didn’t find my soul mate in high school, surely I would find him at some library or coffee shop during my first few months in New York. I have hundeds of drawings of Manhattan skyscrapers scattered throuought the pages of the time trackers.

None of these dreams came to pass; nobody gets out that easily. New York was too expensive, and I was apprehensive about the idea of leaving home. I never met a guy in high school, and never found my niche of friends until I learned to appreciate the friends I already had. I graduated from school, leaving behind a student body that uses the words “queer” and “faggot” just as often as they did before (if not more often), and the jocks still look down on the punks and the skaters. I guess I was just asking for too much.



  1. ah, this is such a less than jake (escape from bomb house, ghosts of you and me, etc…) entry… life used to be so much simplier… it’s amazing how a little thing like a song or a picture brings back so many vivid memories… bleh, those were the good old days…

    – me

    Comment by Anonymous — October 28, 2003 @ 12:15 am | Reply

  2. Drinking

    Be kind to your liver. And you are right. New York is almost perfect. Except we need more subways in Queens.

    Comment by churchguy — October 28, 2003 @ 3:58 am | Reply

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