My brain is kind of like Mary Poppins' carpet bag.

So right now, I just realized how insane the next few weeks is going to be for me. Yesterday, I baked cookies, which was probably the last solo personal fun activity I will do for the next two weeks.

Tonight, I'm doing dinner and the Dark Knight with Brad. Tomorrow night, I'm skipping Stitch and Bitch (probably) in favor of doing a bare bones cleaning of my apartment in preparation for the arrival of Matt. Thursday, I'll have enough time to get home, change, and finish the cleaning before I pick up Matt at the New Haven airport (yes, New Haven has an airport). We'll probably head out somewhere in downtown New Haven for dinner and drinks. Friday, we're going to Foxwoods and staying the night at the MGM Grand. Saturday, we drive back and hang, and possibly go to a Mets game in the evening. And then, Sunday morning around 6:30am, I leave for Burlington, Vermont for fundraising camp, not so cleverly disguised as a conference. (I'm sorry, if I have to bring my own towels, blankets, linens, alarm clock, network cables, and shower shoes, it's not a fucking conference. That's fucking camp.) I don't get back from VT until Thursday night, and then Friday I have work.

My life kind of hasn't been my own since the beginning of July. Family vacations, work commitments, and then I spend most of my spare time doing yoga (which isn't really that bad, but it can be when all you want to do is not think or move), cleaning and organizing my apartment (a seemingly endless job, especially my tiny kitchen), and looking into graduate programs (due to pressure from my mother who won't really stop talking about it). And I'd love to say that my family vacations are all fun and relaxation, but they're not. My mother can be super sensitive about herself while at the same time kind of brutal about my life. My sisters are great, but are forever in competition with me about their jobs (both greatness and difficulty), money, and living situations. They fail to see that while I absolutely love to hear about their lives, it's not a competition, and the reason why I can sympathize and empathize with them about their problems, and even offer them advice, is because I've been there, and their situations aren't so alien to me, regardless of the minutae. I mean, of course I can completely be myself around my family, but depending on everyone's mood (and the level of estrogen in the room), I have to be careful.

And don't even get me started on the ongoing Roscher and Rovito extended family conflict jamboree. Not with each other, but within each side there are just some horribly tiresome issues that make me want to never see anyone I'm related to ever, ever again. Someone over on my dad's side is so fucking oblivious to the pain their actions (and the actions of their spouse) has caused that we've gone all the way around from completely livid and enraged to mocking and then laughter at how unbelieveably moronic they all are. And over on my mom's side, there's jealousy about where we (my immediate family) spend our time when we're in town. People get pissy because we don't check with whoever about whatever we're doing every minute, and we don't distribute our time equally, and people are hurt and mad and will someone just leave me and my family the fuck alone? Seriously, I can count on one hand the number of times relatives have come up to see us in Maine. I really wish that everyone would just lay off.

Furthermore, due to Angie's work schedule (retail, she's a bitch), we won't be spending Thanksgiving in Maine this year (which is the first time in nearly 20 years). So we've been trying to make alternate plans with family who live in that general area. Figuring out Thanksgiving ended being a complete circus (and we haven't even told all the relatives about our plans for that, and I'm so glad I won't be involved in those discussions). What's more, also because of Angie's work schedule (the holidays are apparently a busy time in retail, I mean, who knew?), she won't be able to come home for Christmas. So the two scenarios are these: either Angie isn't in Maine for Christmas, or none of us are in Maine for Christmas. Honestly, the possibility of either happening literally breaks my heart. We had to talk about it this past weekend, and thinking of the whole family (the five of us) not being togther, and/or not being at home, our home, the home I grew up in, actually makes me cry. Tradition around the holidays is so important to me. The holiday season is my absolute favorite time of year, and Christmas day is routinely my favorite day of every single year. And so my parents have been tasked with planning our first Christmas away from the homestead in 17 years. I have a ton of days off, so I've told them that whatever, wherever, is good for me. In retrospect, I kind of regret that, because that means that I most likely won't be consulted. I'll just be told. And being the oldest, the strongest, the most responsible, I'll suck it up, swallow my objections and difficulties and my sadness and say "of course" and go with it. And so it goes, when you're the one with the highest expectations. (I told my mother that I most likely won't be spending New Year's with the family, mostly because we probably won't be in Bangor, and she asked me "Where will you spend the new year?" I choked back my automatic response, which was "anywhere else" and said "I'm not sure, I guess I'll have to see." If it comes down to it, I'll spend it in New Haven with a couple bottles of Champagne and the Twilight Zone marathon.)

My parents have also stopped talking about moving from Maine to Pennsylvania (which my mother has done since the moment she arrived in Maine, understandably), and are now actively pursuing it. They want to buy a piece of land and build a house on it, so they went to look at land in Hershey, PA last week. If you think the thought of not spending Christmas at the house bothers me, imagine how upset I get when thinking about my parents leaving Bangor. I mean, I always knew they would do it, they've been talking about it for years. But I guess them actually doing it just snuck up on me. None of the three of us call the Bangor house our personal home anymore, but it's still home. Our bedrooms may be shadows of what they once were (mine was once covered in Hanson posters from wall to wall), but the living room, the sun room, the kitchen, the places where the five of us gather when we're all home, those are the heart of our family history. Bangor has always been and always will be my hometown, and the hometown of my sisters. But my parents call Philadelphia home, and when they've moved back, the reasons for me to return to Bangor on even a semi-regular basis are very, very few. God, and thinking of packing up the house, and other people living there, that just kills me. (I'm a sentimentalist, so sue me.)

And so as my life inches along towards the precious moments when I'll actually have some time to deal with my feelings and empty my brain a bit, there's a lot to ruminate on. In all, I'm dealing with my lack of personal time and my ongoing family issues pretty well, all things considered. I get worn out sometimes, I get the blues every now and then, and at times everything kind of piles up and weighs me down, but I always find a way out from underneath the pile. There's always a trade off for good and bad. Get out of Wisconsin, get a great job, move close to my family, and I trade off a low cost of living, a job I could do with my eyes closed, and not having to deal with the extended family bullshit. Great apartment but sketchy neighborhood. Great shopping but I'm barely scraping by. Near NYC and my extended family but no time to visit. Meet a great guy but then I move even farther from him than I was before. When I first moved here, I was afraid that if I thought about things too much or even breathed too hard, it would all go away and I'd wake up in Wisconsin as alone and unhappy as I ever was. I don't really fear that now. The status quo has changed; with new happiness comes new problems. It's all a matter perspective, I guess, and realizing that when the status quo changes for the better, you're more willing (and certainly better equipped, emotionally) to deal with the problems, the changes, and the obstacles.