07/15/2004 - 1:47 a.m. | check your depth with a sounding

So, my grandpa is in the hospital with... congenital heart disease, I think. I'm not sure, though, because I did a little research, and it seemed to most imply that this was something that happened to little kids. Well, "congenital" means "existing from birth" but then, why is this the first we're hearing of it? The man puts butter in his coffee. Anyway, as if this weren't news enough, this issue has opened a whole can of worms between my mom and I. She seemed to be of the opinion that I didn't care about this recent turn of events, and my grandpa maybe felt the same, and so I got this kind of guilt call last night. I don't care if it was intended that way or not, but that's what it felt like. But seriously, aren't I always the last to know about these things? But, that's not where I was going really. My heartlessness is the topic of the day. I don't know how we eased into the topic, but it eventually came out that I don't so much give a shit about family. Or rather, I have a much different definition of family than my mom does. She thinks that family is the one thing that will always be there for you and always love you, and in times past, I would have just felt bad and apologized for thinking anything different, but I'm feeling more grown-up these days, so I began to argue.

It's not that I don't care that my grandpa is sick - my mom seemed to keep implying that I didn't care about him, and that's not true. I'm not a monster or a psychopath. I do care about him, and I like how he's all grumpy mostly and how he seems to like me and how he is still clever and charming when he wants to be and whatever. But do I love him? I'm not so sure. And I know, that just seems horrid. And my grandma? Yeah, she's like the sweetest, nicest person in the world, and she's so great and thoughtful to me. But do I love her? Again, I don't know. And it's kind of weird because as I was arguing this with my mom last night out on the porch (fake smoking), I started to draw parallels to my recent bout of emo-ness. My mom just kept blaming herself for raising me wrong, which I guess I take as a personal insult because I don't think that what I'm feeling is a fault at all - I actually consider it a strength. And consider how few things I pride myself on, OK?

So, how do I define love? I think love is more or less appreciating someone in spite of their faults, wanting to be with them despite it all. I mean, I don't thank them nearly enough for this, but even though I am grumpy and moody and mean and boring all the damn time, Spritz and Shelly and Kyle and Dank still want to hang out with me. And I think that's just the nicest thing - even though I can be a shithead, they focus on the good parts of me. And I guess that's what I think love is. So, based upon that definition, I really don't think that I love many people or that many love me. I mean, my grandma might say that she loves me or my grandpa might say that he is proud of me, but they are getting a distorted image of things. If I could act like me around them - if my grandma could read my diary and hear me swear and not be horribly offended and if my grandpa could see me act fruity and be loud and not care about anyone, or (God forbid) that I am taking medication because of how fucked up I can get - would they actually like me? I do love my parents - my mom because she is everything I am and my dad because he is everything I want to be - and I believe that they love me, but I really can't say that about too many other family members. And maybe I'm just not giving them credit - maybe if I could just get over this stigma and be myself, maybe they would all love me just the same. But, is that real, that love, or is that just tradition? Tradition is all nice and good lots of the time, but it also leads to weird obligations, the kind I feel like my mom is bogged down by all the time. You share some genetics with a group of people, and that just leads to love?? I mean, I guess there are shared experiences to bring you closer, but honestly... How many shared experiences have I had with some of these people? If I were to meet my Uncle Larry in the real world, just as a guy, would I even be his friend? No, I don't think I would. We're not interested in any of the same things, and he has antiquated notions about the world that just seem retarded to me. And yet, because he is my mother's brother, I am supposed to automatically feel love. It just doesn't work that way for me.

Virgos are picky. Some girl at Hot Topic was just telling me that the other day? Maybe that's why I ended up the way I am, but I just cannot stand on tradition. In the past I've said that I won't respect someone just because they are in a higher position of power than me (e.g. Harve). If I can see the qualities for which they made it to this higher position then yes, respect will no doubt come. I don't respect my dad because he is my dad. However, I am proud to have him as my dad because he is intelligent and down-to-earth and patient and funny. I respect my mom because she is smart and fucked up and creative and brave and loud and moody like me, and she still somehow gets by. And there are still certainly people who can be picky and loving at the same time. I remember senior year at the banquet when Kyle's grandpa seemed like he was choking. And I was worried - because I don't want anyone to suffer or hurt or die. But then I looked over at Kyle, and he just looked mortified, almost like an exaggeration of emotion or something, nd I remember thinking to myself, "I wish I could feel like that." I could never feel that much. Maybe this is just one of the many ways I protect myself - if I never get too close to too many, I can only be hurt so many times.

And maybe I am proud of this, but I guess I also feel some shame. I wish I could be a good kid like Mike or Joe (my cousins), always dutiful, always giving, always bound by tradition. I am polite and I have the ability to be personable, but that can only go so far in forming relationships. I could make friends with almost anyone, I think, but who would ever accept me for who I am? Maybe that's why I'm so reluctant about this thing with Andrea - there's so much about me she doesn't know. And I guess there is some new fear there? Like, maybe I wish I could be myself, but what happens then? I tried being me with Lisa - and I'm not even saying I made it all the way... but I showed more than most ever see, and she didn't like a lot of it. Am I thinking way outside of the box? It all makes a lot of sense to me, even if it doesn't allow for a whole lot of chances at happiness... but does it make me some sort of unfeeling creature with too thick skin? Polite to everyone, open to no one. Something like that. I don't even feel like I want to change, though. Does that make it even worse?

Ah, forget it. I'll write a real entry in a little bit.