Have you seen these?
A Year in Books - 2009-12-27
Skip Tracer, Loan Detective - 2009-11-22
New Job - 2009-11-03
The coleslaw got served. - 2009-10-21
Probably a new job. But maybe not. - 2009-10-08

I am bad at social interaction.
2002-08-14 9:23 a.m.

So, I guess I'm going to a family reunion this weekend. It had completely slipped my mind for almost a month, but then I got an e-mail from my dad the other day. He had a whole e-mail full of other stuff, and then PS, I'll see you this weekend at the family reunion! and I was all "nyargh!" or some similar guttural noise.

I did in fact utterly space the one last month with the relatives I actually enjoy, so there is no way at all I can back out of the grimness that is this weekend.

Old family joke: Grandma is the white sheep of her family. These people are scary, OK? I'm pretty sure I've even got a former Klansman or two in there somewhere.

That's not even the part that really worries me, though. My Grandma lives 20 miles away. I know I never thanked her for the birthday present she sent last month, and I'm reasonably sure that she doesn't even know I have a new job yet. The bookstore is maybe 6 blocks away from her house. It's embarrassing. I am a Bad Family Member.

I'm also a pretty shitty friend. Basically, I suck at long distance relationships. If you don't ask me a specific question, if you're just being a decent human being and saying hi, I won't return your phone calls or e-mails for at least 3 months. But it's not you, honest. There are people living in town here that I only manage to see when I run into them randomly downtown. If you don't force yourself into my consciousness, I probably will forget about your existence entirely for months on end.

(Note to self: Write Amanda, and Matt, and Mike, and Tash. Call Angie, and Angie, and Nages, and Tom. Maybe write George too. See? I'm awful.)

I don't know why I'm like this. These people are important to me. But I can't seem to make myself expend even the slightest effort to hold on to them.

(I've just realized, this is going to be a long and painfully introspective mess of an entry today. You might as well stop reading now, if you haven't already.)

***

I do in fact keep an online journal. Of the people mentioned above, I think 4 of them check on me in here at least semiregularly. Two of them, I've explained that I probably will never manage to send them a personal mesaage, but they can follow my adventures at least twice a week, and that's almost as good. They both said the idea of reading a journal makes them feel wierd.

And I do in fact cringe every time I try to think about whether I even want my family in here. My dad asked me on my birthday if I'm still doing any writing. I said no, and hated myself for two days. But I sometimes mention stuff I don't want him to know about in here, so maybe yes wouldn't have been the right answer either.

(Question for the group: Do your parents know about your online journals? Would you not write about all your drug crazed orgies if you thought your parents would find out? Oh, wait. I told all of you to go away a few paragraphs ago. What are you still doing here??)

Fuck. I am way too old to be having issues like this. I am an adult. My dad is actually pretty smart, and realistic enough to recognise that I am doing the things I'm doing, whether he actually gets conformation on them or not. I drink sometimes. I have sex sometimes. I say naughty words sometimes. I smoke almost constantly. ("I didn't know you drank, Mr Mulliner. Do you smoke, as well?" "Just as well. Rather better, actually."--PG Wodehouse) I've never told him any of this, so I've got this huge issue about him finding out. Yes, Dad. I am still 12, and practically perfect in every way. That's so totally messed up. That can't possibly be right.

But if I tell him, won't that be bad, too? Yeah, uh, Dad? For like two years now, I've been sharing my more or less intimate thoughts with the whole world, except for you. Would he be hurt, seeing all the stuff I never told him? D'oh.

But I felt so shitty, not telling him last month when he asked if I was doing any writing. I think I'm going to have to devote some serious thought to this.

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