Family is coming. Mom’s parents. Not my favorite people. They needle me about things that are none of their business… cleaning my room, sleeping on an air mattress on the floor, driving, moving out…. But more than that, I’ve decided, while they are intent on needling, they aren’t caring about anything that really matters to me. Mom too. I haven’t told anyone about New York or getting to tour the theater or being on stage or the weird moment with Mat and my necklace or giving him my book… because it won’t mean anything to any of them. They don’t care. I can’t tell you how … I don’t even know the proper word for it… frustrating, saddening, exhausting, maddening, infuriating… it is to know that you had this awesome experience and no one to talk to about it because they just don’t get it. They don’t understand and they don’t care. Showed Mom the video… it meant nothing to her. The look of sheer, unadulterated joy on Mat’s face when he figured out the roses were his… nothing. I could watch it every day for the rest of my life and it would still make me happier than … pretty much everything else but my own mother couldn’t care less.
Please don’t take that the wrong way. I’m not saying she doesn’t care about my happiness…just doesn’t care about what causes it. I’d love to have these people want to go through my pictures (not that they are really all that exciting) and see what New York was like for me… but they won’t ask and I’m not the type to offer it to them.