Baby, Baby, Baby

Do you every think how strange it is how things just don’t seem to change?

That you could be gone for months, totally removed from your family physically (for those too far to commute on weekends), and when you return all’s the same? You know, last year I didn’t seem to notice this. I was too bright-eyed with my first year of college and excited to be home to just sit and observe my family. But the past two days I’ve done just that. Sat, read and done very uneventful events while taking the time to just look and think about them. It has been too busy for them to simply drop everything and adore my presence. But again: this has given me time to note that they can function without me. Not to be too dismal - that’s really not where this is going - but it is just a strange feeling to know that life could go on without you. Not to say that I’m not wholly loved by my family. What I mean to say is that if I moved somewhere far away forever, it would be a sad but not a life-altering affair. They would miss me, write to me and always love me, but it would not stop them from living.

This is a bit more elaborate than what I had thought to actually say. It goes back to that age-old mystery about death. To know that when I die I will eventually be forgotten frightens me a little more than the dying itself.

I almost wish the world would stop spinning with me.

Geez, this is kind of a downer. I promise this isn’t intended to be so. I was actually just thinking about it yesterday at Thanksgiving dinner when we were talking about my grandfather who passed away four years ago. When he died, I didn’t think my mother would ever smile again. It was really hard to see other people like that. And I knew, just knew, that my mom would never be happy ever again. But the curious thing is that she is. She still misses and loves her father, but she’s done what was necessary to trudge on. She’s happy. And that brings me to my brighter observation:

That humans have the ability to reconcile the saddest things within themselves. Now, not all people do come to terms, but that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t possible. Strings tighten and loosen every day, and the world always turns regardless. I think that’s wonderful, to be part of something that is constantly in motion. A world that is constantly crying and constantly laughing and growing.

So, while I noticed this most interesting turn of events, I also noticed how much my family loves me. I’d be sad if they really needed me - it’s almost an honor to be wanted rather than needed. And this ends my ridiculous attempt at philosophy. Which was unintended and rather silly.

On another note:

We need to talk, friends and peers of mine.

I’m glad you all think that calling me five times from Westwood, California after the trauma I endured at the hands of an unwitting cell phone last week is hilarious. It’s great. Really.

To those of the uninformed, one of my very sweet roommates (who I’m positive does this innocuously) uses her cell phone as an alarm. For the past two or three days before leaving for this break, her cell phone would stir me at early hours in the morning playing… Yes, that’s right… “Baby” by Justin Bieber. And she, unfortunately, lacked the knowledge to set her snooze for an hour. So instead that song would sound off every ten minutes for at least one hour every morning. Once it played twice straight while she was in the bathroom. And the last day before break she had to leave at five in the morning, so, of course, I was greeted by The Biebs at four thirty in the morning. Over and over again.

And if this wasn’t bad enough, being half-asleep, half-awake, I began have dreams starring J Biebs. Yeah. Great. The last night, with the four thirty and the morning and the grumpiness, I had a complete dream with him in it. He came to Simpson and convinced me he could sing really well, that he was in fact twenty and was misunderstood and not a troll at all. VENGEANCE SHALL BE MINE!

So, yes, those of you from Westwood who called me singing this song FIVE TIMES AND THEN HANGING UP know who you are. And, well… I know where to find you.

Toodle Pip.