On my plate this weekend, keeping me away from movie sets and dope ass shows, was supposed to be closing the school daze chapter for once and for all by revisiting Wes one year out. I had made plans to meet for dinner and a drink before jumping on the Metro North and splitting the cab costs to our final destination. Then wandering around campus trying to see if I felt different seeing places again. Seeing old friends and others -- just riding the nostalgia wave.
Instead, I'll be in North Carolina, braving the dry Southern heat and the red clay dust with the family. I'm not looking forward to the 8-10 hour ride in a van, even if my aunt did mention the presence of a DVD player in her guilt trip. I've been thinking to myself gravely that someone in my family somewhere must've pissed off someone important. Death and tragedy has become almost second nature to us. Most people in my family can spin the occasions into almost joyful affairs, making it like a mini-reunion, but I'm spiritually weary of death in my young age. I hate going to funerals and I tried to compartmentalize this away and escape to CT. But I got hit with the massive of the guilt trips and was especially bothered because I knew they were right and I should go.
So, in my third week of work, I'm taking Friday off and my semi-horrified boss wished me well. I'll spend the night traversing familiar roads with relatives and most of the weekend hoping I don't melt. Perhaps I'll make it back in time to stand on Andrus to watch the red caps fly, but I doubt it. Sometimes family trumps all. But that doesn't mean I have to like it.
Posted by Candicissima at May 20, 2004 10:49 PM