There are times when I need to abandon pieces of self in order to make progress. Yet, abandon sounds too permanent, and I’m not referring to a drastic transformation of personality, just putting aside different facets until I need them again. I guess it’s like sedating small aspects of what makes you, you.

For my head to be turned on like a rocker switch, positive on, or positive off but nothing in between is often too much. In the one position, the sensory overload is just blinding in all its glare, yet in the “off” position, I neglect the unimaginative ordinary responsibilities that simplify life. On means too many thoughts, too many preoccupations, too many people fighting for control of my nervous system. Off means dirty dishes, no clean towels, and subsisting on wine and rice crackers because I’m too lazy to grocery shop. One would think the middle would be attainable, but a rocker switch is all or nothing. I need a dimmer to maintain all the nuances in between.

I’m finally hovering above myself, well, at least part of myself. The part that can’t leave a sink full of dirty dishes, and the part that feels mildly guilty about not spending time with her spouse because he’s available. The truth is the dishes will keep until this evening, and the spouse is more interested in the World Series. In my absence we all get something.

He gets to enjoy baseball, and I get to fight the cats off in the studio.

Flailing never felt so good. I don’t have much direction, and for once it hardly matters. Direction will come in time, or maybe not. The success or failure of what I’ve produced is a matter of debate. I’m a proponent of critiques, but that hardly seems important as I try complete the piece at hand so I can work on those that will follow.

The process is pleasing, though the goal is not satisfaction. Satisfaction is fleeting and lasts only until the first mark of the next drawing is executed.

Sunset over Crepe Myrtle Trees©2008, Mixed Media on roofing felt. Paper: 18″ X 26″. I have no idea if this is archival, but it is adequate for patching the roof of a dog house. The trees are carved into the felt leaving a bark-like texture.

If I were to invite my friends and family to a dinner party, most of them, would probably scratch their heads, and say, “Huh?”. The people in my life are a diverse bunch. All ages, all walks of life, different interests, different political parties, religious and non, legalize it, and don’t. Few of my friends know each other. I enjoy being exposed to different viewpoints and lifestyles, but for the sake of keeping peace, many of the people in my life are compartmentalized. My relationships with friends rarely intersect my relationships with family. Everyone is not tolerant of differences.

My brother also compartmentalizes. He keeps familial relationships separate from friendly ones. He behaves differently towards me when his friends are around. He has difficulty reconciling the personality he presents to his friends with the personality he presents to his family.

As time passes from youth to adulthood, friendships and extended families can exchange positions in the measure of priorities. Friends, by the nature of being chosen, have the upper hand. Loyalty is also influential. As long as support system is in place, it shouldn’t matter if it is familial or platonic. My brother’s circle of friends, who have humbled him in their generosity. I am happy, knowing his family in such good hands.

As siblings, we have little in common beyond the typical genetic mannerisms. He doesn’t relate to the life I’ve chosen, and though I can relate to his life, it’s isn’t one that would work for me. His contentedness in it, is good enough for me. As we’ve gotten older, I have made less effort with each year to pursuing an unnatural, forced relationship. His kids are older now, and steadily becoming absorbed into their own live, friends and futures. I was supportive when it was most important to be, and should the need reappear, I will be so again.

Last month, my brother’s wife was diagnosed with breast cancer. I’ve kept up with her progress via, my mother, my sister, and emailing my brother. I didn’t want to burden his family with constant phone calls. It’s not important that I speak with them directly to obtain information, only that they know I am concerned. His friends are present and assisting. I am absent and inquiring.

I respect his boundaries because I have my own. I have the capacity for empathy, love, hurt, and compassion, as do other people. I feel powerless, as do other people. I feel compelled to do something, but there is little I can do from here. My mother’s family is pushy, they would insert themselves into the situation whether they needed to or not. I’m not THAT sister.

I don’t mean for this to sound like it is about me. It is about the nature of relationships and their constant state flux. Rather than fight the currents of change, I would rather accept and adapt. My contribution is easy and unbelievably simplistic. My role is to just be.

There is a part of me that longs to be the ONE. Useful, needed, wanted. We can’t all be the ONE, and it shouldn’t matter who is the ONE as long as there is ONE, or maybe a village to leave you humbled.

It is more efficient to summarize the causes of my indigestion in bullet points, much the same way corporations silk screen empty reasons you should purchase their products on the exterior of the packaging. If I composed it according to conventional marketing strategy with ALL CAPS, and repeating points so as to stretch out three reasons so it appears to be five reasons…I would just look like an ass. My ass-self is only properly judged when placed in context. If you’re going to measure it, using seamstress tape, the long post ahead should be adequate, if you prefer measuring with an axe handle, I’ll include a cliff’s notes version at the end complete with bullets. Feel free to shoot in my direction using my own neurotic anecdotes for ammunition.

What started off as a trip that was simply supposed to be long and inconvenient evolved into a chore so large it should consider applying for it’s own postal code. The trip itself isn’t so terrible, but my lack of enthusiasm will only serve to earn me a merit badge in extemporaneous bitchiness. I questioned my sanity when the only planned moment of this trip I did not dread involved having my feet suspended over my head while an nauseatingly upbeat dental hygienist scraped the plaque off my teeth, grooving to incredibly empty modern pop songs.

This trip was primarily to accommodate a dental appointment scheduled six months ago. Secondarily, it was to be an opportunity to catch up with a good friend I left behind, and maybe a return trip to my favorite watering hole. Thirdly it was an opportunity to retrieve some studio supplies. Fourthly, it was an opportunity to get in a quick visit with family. Opportunistic trip of convenience? Yes.

Two months ago when we found out about the baby shower was scheduled for the same weekend, so it seemed prudent to drive further south and attend. I left a trail of chocolate chip cookies from Chattanooga to Tampa in hopes of finding my way back in a leisurely fashion. Instead, I feel like a constipated rottweiler enduring the forceful yell of an impatient master while I try to pinch a loaf under duress. It feels like a familial scavenger hunt, showing up in string of cities packed along the interstate and tugging on apron strings asking, “Are you my Mummy?”

By the climax of this adventure, we will have spent twenty hours on the interstate, seen the Mister’s parents, children, and SIL, my mother and all my siblings, and most importantly, my former cat sitter. All these people in five days. Today is day four, and I’m all full up. We haven’t attended the baby shower yet…

When the route was being planned, it became apparent my family was going to be shoved into a three hour time slot, while much more time would be devoted to his, I was miffed. The previous trip south was so brief, I didn’t contact my family at all and spent five hours with his. I thought about using the time comparison for leverage, but seemed pointless. He’s not beyond playing the,Well, I don’t know how much longer my parents are going to be around card (like it’s really valid, because seriously, how many of us know when we are going to lose anyone our lives?), and my issue was not that I wanted to spend more time with my family…I wanted to spend less time with both families, and more time at the watering hole with my catsitter.

Visits with both families have been enjoyable and non-confrontational. It is still dangerous body-surffing in these waters, you can’t feel the undertow, but you know it lies inches beneath your toes. You know because you have been both warned, and felt the faintest of pulls.

• Road trip. Twenty Hours in car.
• Five days of family.
• 40 minutes in dentist chair.
• Mexican food, Italian Food, seafood.
• Baby shower, One Eyes, 800lb gorilla.
• Cats will poop in favorite hiking shoes when I return home.

I suppose there are advantages to burying you head in the sand. If you are unaware of what happens around you, your are absolved of responsibility and therefor, guilt. Okay, maybe not that last one.

I mentioned earlier my husband’s family was engaged in remodeling his parents home, so they could divide their time between assisted living and being cared for in their home. It seems procrastination has outlived its usefulness and the plan will come to fruition before the year expires.

Throughout the renovation process, the One Eyes have been brought home to view progress as the painting was completed and new carpeting installed. A few weeks ago, my BIL and his wife drove to the property to work on touch-up painting, and were surprised to discover the One Eyes had driven themselves to the property. Neither One Eye has a valid driver’s license, but that is hardly a deterrent when you have the reasoning capacity of a kindergartner and an operational set of car keys.

My BIL is not one for confrontation, so he said little about the escapade and opted instead to follow them back to the assisted living facility. Twice, Mrs One Eye drove completely off the road (the entire car width…not just a tire width), she also crossed the centerline a few times. When they arrived at the AFL, BIL talked to them about their irresponsibility. They were sheepish and a little defensive, but not remorseful.

During, the course of interaction, BIL obtained the car keys. Before he left, Ole One Eye asked him if he had the keys. He owned up to having them. Ole One asked for them, but BIL wouldn’t give them back, and left.

The Mister has been praising BIL for escaping with the car keys. He finally asked what I thought about it. I said I wasn’t ready heap praise on BIL yet, but if kept the keys for a month without caving, I’d consider it.

BIL is easily intimidated by the One Eyes. I’ve listened to make idle threats about selling their vehicles before, because he knew where the Power of Attorney was, and they had no business driving, and Ole One Eye’s vision was deteriorating quickly, and the doctor said Mrs One Eye shouldn’t drive either. He’s had their car keys in his possession in the past, and HE GAVE THEM BACK.

I don’t think it’s easy to confiscate your parents car keys. It’s their last grip on independence. I just believe some of us are more resigned about being the target or irrational anger, and not nearly as scared of our parents as others are.

If this takes, I’ll be proud of BIL. I’m just not going to praise him for growing a pair, until I see the short and curlies taking root.