mnvnjnsn's Diary To contact send email to mnvnjnsnATSIGNgmailDOTcom. 2003-05-09
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ghosts of Christmasses past It�s getting harder to come up with witty introductions to these fives every Friday: 1. Would you consider yourself an organized person? Why or why not? 2. Do you keep some type of planner, organizer, calendar, etc. with you, and do you use it regularly? 3. Would you say that your desk is organized right now? 4. Do you alphabetize CDs, books, and DVDs, or does it not matter? 5. What's the hardest thing you've ever had to organize? Hmmm. I�m not that impressed with this week�s questions. I don�t feel my readership has learned anything about me by knowing that I�m not particularly good at organization. I think y�all probably picked that up early on. And I feel that the mediocre questions have left my readers� unfulfilled. Because Lord knows that empty feeling you�re having isn�t my fault. I had another rage-filled dream last night, probably because of all the memories stirred up by the opening of the Estelle Vault yesterday. The interesting thing about this one was that it took place in my grandmother�s house, not the house I grew up in. There was a big Christmas thing happening, and all my aunts and uncles and cousins etc., were there, along with many many children whom I didn�t recognize, but was apparently related to. Everyone was bustling around amidst the confusion of who got what presents, who was supposed to bring what for whom, and where everyone was sitting. This is, in fact, what our Christmasses are really like. My extended family get-togethers have a whole set of unwritten by-laws (or, �traditions�) that keep us all in a state of mild consternation. Who�s bringing what food again? What birthdays are being celebrated? Is there alcohol? Well, there�s always alcohol. Anyway, back to the dream. I was, as usual in these types of dreams, incredibly upset with my mother. But, unlike other rage focussed dreams, this time I�m also mad at everyone else. Aunt K, Uncle B, even Cousin L just enraged me for no apparent reason. There were what seemed like hundreds of kids around, and I guess I felt alternately ignored and singled out for abuse. Though really? I don�t think anybody did anything out of line, nor did they notice me throwing food and popping pills. It was really weird. And the other thing? No Estelle. She�s been insinuating herself into my family functions for 20 years in real life, but she wasn�t at this dream function. Perhaps I am trying to deal with my anger over the complicity we�ve all had when it comes to Estelle. We include her in everything, and take her back-handed compliments and offhand racist remarks without comment. It�s not that we want to, but it�s for my mother, whom we all love. It�s easier to try to tune Estelle out than to tell Mom that we unanimously cannot stand this woman. On a different note, but same subject, I have issues with the whole gift-exchange concept when it comes to Estelle. I don�t want anything from her, I don�t want to shop for her. But Estelle usually insists on buying multiple gifts every holiday, stuff unrelated to anyone�s tastes or interests. It�s usually worst with us three kids. The significant others are usually spared the usual stories regaling us about why that ugly six-inch brooch was just perfect for us, and she bought it way back in June of 1996 and how she only just now found it and doesn�t it just look so great?!? In the past, the boys have received useful things, like dress shirts, or pocket knives, or iced-tea making machines. But this year? She gave Trevor Dunnigan a book on County Fairs. Welcome to the family, my man. 11:24 a.m. - 2003-05-09 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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