:)

one of my favorite pictures, ever. I took this with the silly Canon Rebel SLR we have laying around at home :) pretty much explains my brother in a nutshell. 

Red Stripe

Kiddie Birthday parties. That wonderful phenomenon where everybody decides it would be a great idea to feed kids sugar and give them lots of presents and let them misbehave and run around in a sugar-crazed frenzy. I remember them fondly when I was a kid - jumping around in the bouncy-bounce things, eating cake and ice cream, running around and playing tag, getting gift-bags, playing stupid birthday party games like pop-the-balloon to get prizes, or just plain tag. 

They're fun when you're a kid, but I had never really been on the other side of the line until today. When you're an adult, your job is to shmooze and brag about your children and  act like you're really excited to see everyone. And I'm in that lovely in-between phase where you're still a kid but you're technically an adult - you're too old to jump around in the bouncy bounce (that's only acceptable if you have children and you're in there with them) and you're too young to talk about kids or jobs. So, unsure of what to do and feeling awkward and childless, I pulled a Red Stripe out of the little ice tub, cracked it open, and sat on the couch sipping my Jamaican beer slowly as different pseudo-relatives came and went from the places next to me on the couch. 

I thought, Me, an adult, what a funny joke. I sit here with my beer and talk about college and My Career Path and try to smile and join in as the real adults talk about babies, law firms, architecture, Danksos, more babies, and other such interesting things. On the inside, I am wondering what my girlfriend is doing or when is the acceptable time to text her or why my skirt is so damn tight or when I can get another beer. 

And While I'm technically in the realm of the adults, it's clear that I'm still my parents' Baby. They still brag about me to other people and tell them for me that I'm at Art School and I'm going to be an Illustrator and I work for Claire and isn't that all just great? While I stand there awkwardly blushing and looking at my feet. 

They start talking about shoes. 

"looks like you've got some battle wounds..." they say to me. They've noticed the bandages on my feet from getting warts removed. That's generally not information I throw out for public consumption so I'm about to make up a good reason for having bandages on my feet but my parents jump in -

"Oh, she inherited my propensity for getting warts... on her feet this time..." and they proceed to talk about how i've had warts on my hands since 7th grade, while I stand there and wait for the earth to swallow me up. 

"Hahaha... Yup. So much fun!" I say jokingly, smiling and trying to mask the horrifying fact that my parents just told a group of 10 other adults that I have warts. 

And that pretty much settles it - Silly me for ever thinking that I was straddling the line between adults and kids, or that I could ever be older than 5 in my relatives' eyes. I guess I really am still one of the children. I probably will be when I'm 40. When I think about it, all the older women probably feel similar when they're with their parents, I just don't notice because I'm too absorbed in my own teenage awkwardness. 

When in Rome....

I just had this randomly pop into my head, and now it won't get out. I haven't thought about this in a long time. I was thinking... When I'm afraid that I'm getting too rude and selfish..  

I can't remember exactly when or what occasion this was, but I think I was in middle school. So I was already a shy, awkward girl in the first place. It was some kind of family gathering that coincided with my aunt Judy's birthday, and since am good friends with Jamie, when she was called to dinner I naturally followed suit. (Usually everything we do as a family, we have to do together.) We walked into a big dining room, where many of my family members were sitting and chatting with one another. 

"Come on!" Jamie pulled my arm as she walked over to the table where her mother was sitting, and there were two empty seats. We sat down and started looking over the menu, and I learned that this was Aunt Judy's birthday dinner. I told her happy birthday. We were chatting and giggling like preteen girls do when all the sudden I felt someone behind me. 

"Excuse me." It was my Uncle Ross. I saw people at the table look up. "This is Judy's birthday dinner, for her family only (we were second cousins so apparently not considered enough family). You're going to have to leave, I'm sorry." I don't remember much of what happened after that, but I remember my parents being livid and Judy exclaiming "Ross! Don't be Ridiculous." 

And I remember most the feeling of being publicly embarrassed by someone who was supposedly family. Judy and others convinced me that it was fine that I stay, and I believe someone forced Ross to apologize to me (really? what kind of grown man has to be forced into apologizing to a young girl for being rude?) but the whole dinner I was uncomfortable. I picked at my food, was extremely self-conscious about everything I was wearing and saying. I felt like an unwanted guest, the one that everyone assures that they want there but afterwards bitches about. 

My parents were absolutely livid, and I remember them talking angrily in the hotel room about how Ross is an asshole and he's a cheap bastard and all he ever wanted to do is save a little money (coincidentally, he ended up making everyone split the check for that dinner. Including Judy. On her own birthday dinner.) I think I may have even cried. I was just embarrassed. I was like 12 for Christ's sake!

This still makes me angry, not because of me specifically, because I got over it, but just that people can be so rude and selfish and uptight and not realize that they are hurting other people and need to change. And I get so afraid that I'm going to become one of those people if I don't watch myself. 

I don't know why I'm thinking about this, it happened a long time ago, but I guess I still haven't really forgiven him for that for some reason. Subconsciously my opinion of everything he does is given with utter contempt, he will always be the "Cheap Bastard" in my mind. I guess you're impressionable at that age. And he still has yet to prove me wrong, even now that I'm nineteen. 

So to finish that first unfinished sentence:  When I'm afraid I'm getting too rude and selfish, just think... What would Ross do? And don't do it. 

On a happier note, here's another doodle. It's me and my brother :3

and an ADORABLE picture I found of Casey and Lenny.