Where to begin…? I guess “at the beginning” is as good a place as any, so let’s start there.

Most of my recent posts have used lyrics from Rush as the subject. I’ve been knocking around the “why” of that for the past few days and I think that I have finally come up with a few reasons for it:

  • I’m a Rush fan. Ok, that one was easy.
  • I enjoy music. This one was pretty simple, too.
  • Music is a form of expression, but I think that “definition” can be also applied to include the listener as well as the composer/lyricist…
    • When you’re in a crappy mood and just need something loud and raucous to help exorcise whatever demons are filling the dark corners of your mind…
    • …or when you are happy and just need a good beat to bounce to…
    • …or as Elton John said,”Sad Songs Say So Much.”

The decision to use the lyrics/titles that I have in my subjects has been rather deliberate: They usually have some relation to something that has occurred in the course of the day. Who knows, I may even broaden my scope and intersperse some emmet swimming lyrics and titles… or someone else. Ah, who knows? *shrug*

And now, back to our regularly scheduled LiveJournal programming…

Today has been good. Y’know, this whole “having a good day” trend is becoming a little unnerving. I’m probably going to get complacent about having “good” days that when something “less-than-good” comes along, I’ll consider the day a “catastrophic failure,” as one of our techs at work would say. Okay, that may be a little extreme. I guess that I will enjoy the good days while they last.

  • Woke up when Angie called. She wanted to do lunch before her band practice.
  • Performed the daily hygiene rituals.
  • Checked email and IRC – and was invited to go see “Final Fantasy,” more on that later.
  • Got dressed and headed out…
  • I went to see FF – Jess went to lunch with Ang and since neither of us are supervising this week, dinner w/ Angie is a fairly open option. The movie was good; the storyline was a little “iffy,” but the animation was top notch. Leaving the theatre, I realized that I was missing $14 that I had when I walked into the movie. *sigh* Maybe it had something to do with seeing it on screen #13. Oh well, it’s not enough to spoil the overall “good day” rating.
  • Came home, called a few friends back on the Right Coast, and that brings us up to now.

I’ve been thinking about something over the past couple of days and I think that I’ve finally gotten enough of a handle on it to put it into writing: I love my parents. From some of my previous posts, that may be readily apparent, but why assume?
Something that I think is just as important, if not more so, is the fact that I like my ‘rents, too. That isn’t something that’s so “automatic.”

I’ve been thinking about how my relationship with them has changed over the past 10 – 15 years… and I’m glad to say that it has definitely gotten better with time. This isn’t to say that it had been “bad,” but the dynamic of the relationships has changed as have we. This is a good thing.

One of the most… unique… memories, involving both Mom and Dad, comes from eight or so years ago. I needed a car and was planning a 2-day trip with a friend of mine to visit his uncle’s dealership. Mom wasn’t thrilled about it for some reason, but she wouldn’t say why. She came into the store where I worked one day and we had an “argument” in the middle of the Womens’ Department. I put argument in quotes because no raised voices or epithets or most of the other things that one would expect were used. Instead, we talked using very clipped sentences laced with heavy sarcasm and biting undertones; most onlookers would not have known that we were in the middle of our version of a knock down, drag out fight. A few days later, my father called me; it seems that Mom had called and related her concerns to him. My father, not being one to dance around a subject asked me: “Are you gay?” Okay, that one took me by surprise. But I recovered BEAUTIFULLY: “What?!” He repeated himself and then explained why he asked – THAT had been the basis of my mother’s concern and frustration: Not whether or not I was, but why I hadn’t been able to TALK to her about it if so. Ah, enlightenment. I explained that I wasn’t and that the trip was solely for the sake of trying to find something with four wheels and a low payment. I was a little upset that Mom hadn’t been able to just come out and ask me herself, but I was glad that she was able to find a way to broach the subject… roundabout as it was. Anyway, I went, I looked, I came back carless… but I also came back with a deeper sense of respect for my parents and their concern for my well-being.

Another prime example was when I moved out of the house into my own apartment. I told Mom on a Monday that I was looking for a place of my own; that Wednesday, I told her that I had gotten a call from one of the complexes and would be moving on that Saturday. Being “her baby,” even though I have a younger sister, she didn’t want me to move. *sigh* Saturday came and I went. On the flip side, Dad was supportive of the move; he, again, explained Mom’s perspective from a parent’s p.o.v.: The apartment was only 25 miles from home, but it was not going to be the same as me being at home. Okay, I could accept and even understand that. In the end, I moved and all was good.

The most illustrative example was when I moved to Utah. If moving to the next town gave Mom fits, you can just imagine what moving across country did. This time, Mom was supportive… not “happy” about it, but she was supportive; Dad was, too. I think that they both realized that this was something that I not only “wanted” to do, but that I “had” to do. And I did. And the main reason for me moving fell apart less than a week after I got here. Yay. I called Dad and told him what had happened and the FIRST thing that he said was: “Do you want me to come out there? We can just get your things and be back on the way here.” I told him that on top of everything that had happened that I couldn’t do that; I needed to stay out here. For me. I needed to see whether or not I could make it on my own. He understood; Mom did, too… when I explained it to her. Two years-nine months-one week-eleven days later, I’m still here. This is a good thing on a number of points:

  • I’ve learned a lot about myself.
  • I’ve adapted to and (mostly) overcome a situation that would have made some people surrender.
  • I’ve had opportunities to see and do things that I would not have had I remained on or moved back to the east coast.
  • I’ve met a lot of good people… and some “not so good” ones. For the record: Jess = the top of the list of good ones.

I’m sure that there are TONS others that I’m leaving out.

And while I prize all of the above, the thing that stands out is: My parents are proud of me. Yeah, I know that’s really simple, but it’s important to me. And just as important: They accept that I’ve grown up and need to make my own decisions – good or bad. It’s nice to be able to relate to them not only as their offspring, but also adult-to-adult. Mom wants me to move somewhere on the east coast again (2000 miles IS one helluva long way from “home”), but she understands and accepts the whys and wherefores of my being here. And yes, Dad asks too. But that’s a parent’s right. And it shows that while they want me to live my own life and to be happy, I’m still their son. Hell, at times, I’m still their “little boy.”

And that’s not necessarily a bad thing.