vacationing at my moms house is an interesting dance

old style

i love my mom and my sister and her kids and illinois and all my old friends immensely.

and as many times as i tell people i just want to do nothing, really truly nothing,

that dream never becomes reality.

its a weird thing to want nothing because one day we will all reach that goal.

but to me, a vacation, or a break, is the desire for a blank canvas.

once the canvas is truly empty, then you can create something new.

crying babies dont understand that. adorable relatives and pets and retired mommas dont get it.

they see crazy ass uncle tony and theyre all, youre so fun in your life, lets have fun now, here. with you.

i tell them here is what i want to do: i want to watch lots of movies, i want to take long walks.

i want to drive around the fields of nothing. i want to listen to the FM radio.

walmarti want to go deep in the heart of the worst part of this huge city.

and i want to not be who i am most of my life.

to me thats a vacation.

i want to drink beer that makes PBR seem like Chimay. i want to stay in my pajamas.

i want to cruise the web till my hands are sore (mission accomplished).

i want to read twitter all day. i want to catch up on facebook. i want to go through my iPhoto and start a new library

because the first six months of this year were strange and unusual and emotional and out of control.

i dont want the phone to ring i dont want the doors to open and close i dont want the chaos

and even though i Love LA i dont want any LA for a few days.

but the weird thing is: you have to read work emails or there will literally be 1,000 of them waiting when you return.

you have to play with your niece and nephew or they will murder you in your sleep.

and you want to talk all day with your mom because she is the angel of all things good in this circle of hell.

last night driving home alone from chicago at 3am my moms car startled me with the most alarming terrible sound id ever heard from a moving automobile. i seriously thought it was going to explode right as i was driving on the expressway.

i turned off the radio, the airconditioner, my iphone, anything i could turn off. and the strangulation stopped.

i deduced it must have been the AC that had been hissing and gurgling throughout the day.

this car only has 116k miles on it but cars in the midwest age quicker, i assume, since they slosh through the bitter cold winters and withstand the super hot and humid summers. its a miracle that they or their passengers make it at all.

and i thought, if my mom had been driving she would have literally had a heart attack. because i nearly had one.

stress will find you at any hour or any place or any where no matter how hard you try to avoid it.

what you resist, persists, the fortune cookie said, which is why i guess people have kids

because even though they are a non stop never ending faucet of look at me look at me look at me

so is everything else

until our mortal coil is unfriended