This house has two excellent examples of disfunctional relationships. In the first room we have my parents, who are the sort of people that should never be together. It's clear to everyone but them. They piss each other off and are unable to spend a moment in the same room without being angry with one another. They are constantly at each other's throats.

For twenty-two years I've proclaimed that their fights are none of my business (except when they're yelling at each other outside my bedroom door at 1 or 6 AM). I remember well that, when we were kids, my siblings used to sob without comfort when ever my parents screamed at one another, but I tuned it out and never gave it much thought.

But now that's over. Now I have to ask why. Not why do they fight and why have they always fought. Not why do they seem to hate each other. Not why have they stayed together for so many miserable years. I know all of those things. What I want to know is why can't they follow my example?

I know I'm not God or anything, and I certainly make mistakes and do bad things. But I really think we would all be much better off if they would take notes on the disfuctional relationship between the other two people in the house: me and Patrick. Just like my parents, Patrick and I sleep within feet of one another. However, I can't make him stop waking me up every night when he [*coughs, a lot*], I can't make him do anything about the gigantic mound of dirty clothes that takes up a third of the floor space, and I can't make him sleep in the other room when he's done something especially awful. My living situation is more intolerable than theirs, at least within the bedroom. Sure, my parents sleep in the same bed, but I've slept in the same bed as Michael after we broke up. It's not that hard to share a bed and have nothing to do with one another.

Patrick and I used to be at each others throats pretty often. I find him to be rude, abrasive and unbelievably annoying. Then, a few years ago, I decided I had had enough. I knew it would be hard on everyone, but I realized that I could not have a relationship with him. I am unable to change him, but I can't accept him for who he is. If he were not my brother I would have absolutely nothing to do with him. It sucks, but I have to accept this fact. I do not like him but I can't do anything about it. So my only solution is to ignore him completely. I try to spend all of my time in a different room from him. I often avoid activities that he's part of (although certainly not always). When he tells a story to "the room" I refrain from comment, no matter how stupid or offensive or naive I think he sounds. Because I know it doesn't matter what I say or do. I can't make him change.

My parents are certainly not happy with this, and I think my mom has subtly tried to get us to spend a bit more time together. But why can't they see that this is so much easier on everyone else than what they are doing? They should have realized by now, after 30 years of knowing one another, that neither one of them can make the other one change. They're not receptive to one another. It has absolutely no use to try. So they have two choices from here. The first is to change themselves and, I know my parents. They're two very stubborn people who refuse to ever admit a mistake. So neither one will be willing to change because each of them thinks it's the other one who will change. So why not accept that? Why not realize that they will never be happy together, so there's no point in even trying? I know they can't seperate because of financial issues, so how hard would it be to just ignore one another completely, except when absolutely necessary to make contact? I know that the answer is it would be very hard, but they don't seem to know or care how hard their abysmal failure of a relationship is on those around them. There was a time to make it better, but now I think it's just time to make do.

Stop saying 100 Days

Stop saying 100 Days.

Also,

I need to not have a Facebook for a few days. Maybe a week. Don't worry about it, it'll be back again!

Leisure Town...the end.

Leisure Town is a old people part of Vacaville. It's not gated, or anything, but when you first turn onto Yellowstone there's one of those terrible marker stones that has "Leisure Town" written on it. So I was able to drive there for work without hindrance today (ahem, elitist Browns Valley). But I'm fairly certain that they have rules similar to other senior living centers, like everyone has to be an old folk.

Anyway, I had never spent any time in Leisure Town before. I mean, clearly it's going to be a community designed to look like what old people wish the entire world were still like. I was just stunned by how very 1950's it looked. Every house was an unremarkable little one-story flat, but they all had large yards and notable gardens. I'm sure the old people all plant their own gardens, because that's what they're into, but you can't help but notice these big huge fields of green. The streets are all straight circles, which doesn't make any sense, so by which I mean they are "circles", but are actually in the shape of squares.

I don't know, I wish I were bright enough to draw this all together and form an interesting conclusion on what old people want and what their subconcious priorities are. But I can't. So the end.

Not nothing

I should hear from City Year in a week, they told me. I feel really good about it. In fact, I came home from work and checked my emails today and saw that I had an email from them. In most circumstances, I would not open this email for several hours--perhaps several days--for fear that it contained a rejection. But I feel so confident that I excitedly opened the email immediately.

Of course, all the thing said was that I was being considered and should hear back from them in a week.

Over the last few days, life has been directing me toward the life of Elizabeth Elmon, a gentlewoman who "married down", as they say. Her husband was a man named John Adriol, and although I haven't yet decided his exact status, I imagine he'll be little more than a groom. I don't know how much of a story is there or where it might go, but my Pocahantas/Grandmother Willow Wind is urging me in that direction with a gentle breeze.

"I don't actively do it anymore, but I certainly do invite encouragement."

Define it

It's probably natural to associate a single event or theme in your life with a particular year. Or, I mean vice-versa, but I won't fix it because I'm eating an apple with my right hand, and it's too much work to retype the whole sentence with one hand.

So, like I hear or read 2004, I'll always think first of my high school graduation. You mention 1990 and I'll immediately think of Karen. So what was my first thought when someone yesterday said he had graduated in 2006? Midterm elections. It's been a pretty consistent theme for me. I've noticed over the past few years that 2006 is primarily associated with, as I was excitedly calling them at the times, midterms.

2006, the year I moved to San Francisco, the year that contained most of my first relationship and my employment at the library. Yet the midterm elections trump all of that. It really did consume me in those days. I mean, almost as soon as I moved to San Francisco, the tension and excitement of the upcoming election had begun. Midterms defined my first semester at SF State.

I don't know, it's just so odd to me. I'm not ashamed of it, even though it is a little pathetic. I think it's because I was really miserable that first semester, but I wasn't aware of it. It was my first time living away from home and I figured that was just how it was. So I put all of my energy and interests toward politics.

I guess I'm trying to tack a conclusion onto the end of a post that doesn't really have one. It's more just an opportunity to share that strange little quirk.

Legblog

I went to the gym for the first time since the accident. It's kind of frustrating. I mean, where before I was doing 220lbs on a machine, now I'm down to 30. Doing lunges--without any weight--is really difficult. But hey, at least I'm doing it. It's the first steps toward a real recovery. And hopefully, once my knee regains its strength, my overall strength will rapidly increase as well.

The week's end///

Last week, I had a phone interview with City Year. Then yesterday, I drove down to their office in San Jose to do an in-person interview. I think they both went pretty well. Veronica on the phone and Jarett in person seemed satisfied with my answers and I'm confident that they know I'd be a valuable asset.

In both interviews, however, they seemed more impressed with the questions I asked, rather than the answers I gave. Not to say that they didn't like my answers, but Jarett said "that's a GREAT question" to two things I said, and "I wish everyone asked that question" to a third. And I know that matters, because as we were wrapping up he said wanted to write down my questions before he forgot them.

I should find out within the next month. This is the last step in the application process for me, which means it's too late to screw it up! Unless, of course, they find my blog and read about how much I hate service, or how, the first time I had chitlins, I was noticeably disappointed with the fact that it wasn't Southern-style calling of cooked childrens. You know, those sorts of slip-ups that might make them think twice. Those are the only ones left for me!

Which is good, because I narrowly avoided comparing City Year to Karl Marx. I meant it in a positive way, but I think in our society that's seen as an automatic negative. But he said that they do something in a certain way, and why do I think they do it like that? I very neary said "well, like Karl Marx said on the assembly line..." but I implied it instead. It wasn't even that I had an alarm saying "don't bring up Marx in an interview!" but more that I wasn't sure if what I remembered was an accurate representation of his complaints about the assembly line.


I had physical therapy today. My left leg is NOTICEABLY, capitally smaller than my right. It really bugs me. But the physical therapist encouraged me to start going to the gym again, so I can right that wrong. My biggest concern right now is how weak my knee is. It hurts to squat.

So hopefully I'll be going to the gym soon, but I'm not sure that I can afford to pay my dues. They charged me the day after I froze my membership, so that should mean I have a full month paid from when I unfreeze it. So by May 10, I should have my first paycheck, but why really knows for sure?

Running

I've been running today. Running everywhere, like when I need to go from one side of the house to the other. It's still a little awkward, but I can run short distances or walk down stairs without any real discomfort, which was not the case yesterday. I could run a few paces, gingerly, on Thursday. Today my dad told me I "almost look normal" when running, so the muscular improvements over the last 48 hours have been stellar.

Of course, I still have a hard time looking at my legs. The left one looks all skinny and untoned next to the right. I can't wait until I'm healed enough to go to the gym, but by that time I'll be working full-time.