Tedium

I haven't posted in a while. This seems a little odd to me--work is slow, I'm taking a break from classes, and I have free time all over the place, so one would think I'd be blogging like crazy. But the truth is that I just haven't felt very inspired. My life is in the midst of a sort of stalemate at the moment. People are out of town--doing summer vacation stuff, or at new jobs, or just relishing the freedom of eight weeks away from the campus. I didn't opt to bail for the summer. It's partly because I wanted to work and save some extra money, and partly because I didn't want to face the misery of Texas in the summer, but that's not all of it. I know that a big reason I stuck around up here was to avoid the stress of home--illness, the maze of boxes that our house has become as everyone gets ready to move to Houston next month, my aunt's never-ending monologues, and the constant worry and overcrowding that always comes with a visit home. My family and I are connected by a steel-strong web of love and support, but I know that I don't have to be home to be a part of that. And yet here I am, moping about being up here while everybody is elsewhere.

I swear, a lot of this comes from the fact that I don' t have TV or men to use as a numbing salve against boredom and too much thinking. Every summer my life slows down almost to a standstill, and I get by pretty easily because it's Six Feet Under time, or I'm lusting after or dating somebody. Last summer I had plenty of diversions to keep me busy--packing for the migration to Ohio, being mad at The Boy, having fun with The Guy. This summer I don't have a short-lived infatuation to obsess over or a broken heart to rehabilitate. In the absence of conflict, I just feel restless. There's no sexual tension, no rage, no big work crisis or illicit affair to worry about. Does that say something about human nature? In all those damn theatre classes I took in college (before I got wise and switched to an English major) we went on and on about how "conflict" is the center of any good scene. Somebody has to want something from somebody else, or it doesn't work. And look at me now--I'm getting along with everybody, and I just feel like shit!

Father's Day is probably a part of it. I hate it. I haven't done Father's Day in six years. My stepdad is gone, and my real father is a good guy, but I don't have that father-daughter thing with him. He wasn't a part of my life until I was already 20 and the hard growing-up stuff was over. I think I subconciously think of him as an uncle or something. And our politics and values clash so badly that they're a huge sinkhole in an already delicate relationship. Every mid-June I feel guilty because I don't send a card, but I just can't do it. It would feel contrived and artificial and wrong. And maybe it would bring him some sense of deep satisfaction, but I don't know that I've decided he deserves that from me. Am I being hateful and selfish? Probably.

Geez, look at me overanalyzing everything. Forgive this morose post. Thank God summer only lasts for two months, and then I can get back to good old-fashioned work-related bitching.