Sunday, August 17, 2008

Welcome home

In about 7 hours, I'll be leaving for Bloomington. I'm surprisingly calm about it, really. Today has been interesting...I've been wavering between excited and pissed off. Always one extreme or the other. I really am ready to get out of here. I've been getting along great with Mom and Julie for most of the summer. Brian and I generally get along well, but then again I hardly ever see him because he kind of hides in the basement. Today was Amy's 14th birthday so she was in a good mood for once, but if you recall, middle school is hell so Amy is generally not fun to live with right now. She kind of has a superiority complex and it kind of drives me batshit crazy. As for Dad, I don't know, I've been getting along with him basically well until today. I've inadvertently made him mad at least four or five times today, and Dad doesn't get mad too often. Maybe he's stressed about Brian and me going to college...well, he's used to it with me, but maybe something about his only son moving out...I don't know. I'm hoping I didn't do something horribly wrong to make him mad at me. Mostly, his getting mad at me has resulted either from my complete lack of physical coordination or silly misunderstandings in conversation. Sigh.

I don't know. I'm just ready to get out of here. It's funny. I definitely appreciate all my parents do for my siblings and me, and how Dad's job provides for a really, really comfortable lifestyle. I found out the other day that Dad's income puts our family in the top 2%, income-wise, in the nation. Holy fuck. I looked it up on the internet after Mom commented to me that she doesn't "feel rich." Well yes, we live in Greenwood. Center Grove, that is. We don't feel rich because our standard of living is sort of the norm. But I don't really want that for myself. I want to be comfortable, financially, and be able to afford things that I want, but I definitely don't want to be flashy, high-society, pretentious-type rich. Because it's never enough. There are high expectations around here of what a family should be able to afford. Private violin lessons? Apparently a necessity. A new flat-screen TV? Of course we need one. A day at the spa? Couldn't get by without it. And while my parents are supporting four children in a fairly affluent suburban area, which is no financially easy task, I still get a twinge of disgust (or something) every time they complain about how expensive certain luxuries are. I mean, I have to appreciate that they don't throw money around like it's nothing, but they don't seem to realize how fortunate we really are to be able to even consider extravagant purchases.

I want to be a college professor eventually, which is a high-paying, high-status job, but I pray that I will be able to stay grounded and not get caught up in any sort of pretentious high-society lifestyle.

The other day, Mom asked my sisters and me what kind of house we'd like to live in. Julie wants a big house (a mansion, basically, although who knows what that word means anymore). Amy wanted a medium-sized, new, modern-looking house. Probably kind of like the house we live in now. They both talked about all the features and special rooms and brand-new appliances. Everyone was surprised when I said I don't want that. Well, I'll admit that in an ideal world I would live in a fairly newish house. Old things do scare me. But renovating an old house wouldn't be entirely bad. Anyway, I don't want a traditional-looking house. I want something really unique and...genuine-looking? Does that make sense? I don't want a house that looks like it came out of a catalog or has a matching model home somewhere. As for decor, I want jewel tones and original artwork and the occasional bit of quirky kitsch. I want a smallish house, just big enough for me, my wife, a kid or two, and a few cats. One level, perhaps with a basement. I want it to look like a home. My home. I don't want it to look manufactured. I want my kids to feel at home there, like they're allowed to play and explore and be part of the family. No forbidden rooms. None of my rooms will be fancy enough that the kids and cats have to stay out.

I want to be the family that my kids' friends love to hang out with. I want all sorts of people to feel welcome in my house/home. I imagine it being the best physical representation of my idea of "home."


In the meantime, I suppose tomorrow I'll be able to make my dorm room look like home. It's the closest I've come so far, actually. Well, my room in the apartment was the closest I've come so far. I hope my new dorm room will be the perfect home for me.

Perhaps soon I'll be able to reflect on the summer. I don't know if anyone really wants to read that, though. Hell, I don't know if anyone ever reads this thing anyway.

I have a couple funny anecdotes/thingies that I have to share, to end this on a happy note.

1. Apparently a woman in Greenwood was arrested this week for running an extra-special massage parlor. Ah, undercover prostitution. Funny enough that this was happening in Greenwood of all places, but the best part is that her first name is Rongrong. Two rongs still don't make a right, I guess.

2. Consider this an Official Blog Pimp: you must visit THIS HILARIOUS BLOG. Cake Wrecks. The best of the worst "professional" cake decorating disasters, complete with delightful commentary. I don't know who writes this blog. I came across it the other day and decided that I absolutely must share it with everybody forever. So there it is.

3. Not funny, and not really an anecdote, but just a mention that I got my ears pierced again! I have 3 holes in each ear now. I like them a lot. The new piercings hurt like ten bitches on a bitch bus, though, so I think I'm done piercing things...but still, I'm excited about these. Three is just a good number. 'Course, the earrings I have in now, the ones they used to pierce my ears, are kind of ugly (they were the cheapest nickel-free ones), so I can't wait until I can take them out and wear three pairs of sparkly earrings at once!

I have no idea what I'm typing anymore. I think it's bedtime.