love_darrow

I got incredibly, incredibly drunk on Thanksgiving Eve. It was splendid.

Forced myself to sleep in yesterday, then worked the 11 PM to 6 AM Black Friday shift at my store.

It was boring, we were pretty dead. Our mall is under new ownership, so they did a terrible job promoting the event.

So I've been waiting for blog inspiration to strike while I digest some amazing news. Then I figured, fuck it, just blog about this.

I'm going to be an aunt for the first time!

I'm happier for them than I thought I'd be. Don't get me wrong - I love Becky and my brother Steve to death, but there's two things I am most definitely not - a baby person, or family oriented.

Besides my immediate family (mom, dad, Stevie and Becky), and my estranged cousin Jon (one of my Uncle's many, many, forgotten children), I don't make any effort to interact with people from either side of my family.

I like them all right, just, after age twelve or so I distanced myself from my cousins and hardly spoke to my aunts and uncles. I only saw my grandparents at big family functions (that I only knew about because of my sister-in-law).

Only, this past summer, after my last grandmother died (I had three grandmothers and three grandfathers - two were obviously step) did I interact with certain cousins and aunts on a level reserved for family rather than acquaintances.

And it was then, for the first time, that I realized that there was a possibility that members of my family miss me, and care about me despite our lack of closeness.

To be honest, that baffled me.

Call me cold-hearted, but just because I share blood with someone doesn't mean I'm going to well, I guess - love them. Maybe this is a result of my violently independent nature.

I mean, I do love and care for my family - but there is no bond, no desire to see them, miss them, even.

I'm a firm believer in choosing your own family - genetics mean nothing if the people you click with and need throughout your life can't lay any familial claim to you.

But, as I said, this summer I realized that not everyone feels this way.

My aunt - who had started to seemingly (to a child, anyway) resent me when I got to the age that I started swearing and taking an interest in different clothing styles - actually spoke to me like I was not only her equal, but someone she cared about despite years of distance.

And despite her over-the-top-religious, stick-up-the-ass mentality (her kids were forbidden to read Harry Potter or watch Scooby Doo growing up), she was the relative who defended my dyed hair, dermal piercing, and tattoos to her brother, my father. (Who completely lacks her views on life, he's actually quite like me - he was just doing the father thing, annoyed that his little girl was altering her appearance).

And in that moment, there was an immense (and unexpected) relief flooding over me. It's not that I held a grudge against her - I just figured that our views were too different, our ideas too clashing, our moral compasses opposing. Another reason I firmly believe that blood is blood, but family is fucking family.

And in that moment, I did a lot of growing up, and decided to get over myself.

My belief about family still holds strong, but I now realize that making a little effort with the one given to me, not chosen, certainly won't hurt me.

I have to stop taking things for granted, because I don't have much.

So, I'm excited about this being an aunt thing. It'll happen in June.

On a separate note, I hope everyone's Thanksgiving was amazing!

Love.

Here's a couple pictures of Chase and I at Petsmart:



This kitty has the Elvis lip curl going on.



Wanna see what it looks like when two people try to fit into adult-size onesie pajamas?