Man, I'm in a blog-rut this week.
I was going to upload some photos from the weekend last night and try to wring a post from our overnight trip to Georgia to see my parents, but I couldn't get my computer to pick up a signal. Is it wrong that I get pissed off when I can't successfully poach free internet? Like it's our neighbors' fault (the ones with unsecured signals, at least) for not providing more reliable service for us to steal. Los bastardos.
I didn't have much to say anyway. Still don't. We just hung out with my folks, let them feed us because we apparently don't do a good enough job of that on our own (which may be true) and watched the TV channels we don't pay for here. As usual, we were sent home with something ridiculous like half a chocolate cake that we will just let molder in the fridge until we decide to throw it away. I want to want to eat it, but I just don't. Not a big cake-eater.
Visiting my parents is getting increasingly weird, besides. It's not the usual "my parents still treat me like a kid" complaint, because they don't. I think it's the fact that I'm outnumbered, like an underachieving Storm Trooper on a forest-planet full of self-assured Ewoks. I don't stand a chance. When it's just me and Courtney, there's only one other person in the room who is disappointed in me. At my parents' house, however, all conversations inevitably come back around to what I should or could be doing with myself that I'm not. Throw in various not-so-subtle hints about things like "weddings" and "grandkids" and it's like I'm stumbling drunkenly through a minefield of my own shortcomings. Everyone's very diplomatic about it, but always being the only question mark in the room gets a little old. And it's probably mostly just my perception, but that's how it feels.
When you're as self-centered as I am, you tend to think people are more concerned with you than they actually are. When it comes to my parents, though, they're probably more concerned than I realize.
Aside from all that, my folks are a lot of fun to be around and Courtney and I both like spending time with them. I just wish every visit didn't put me in a multiple-day funk of self-loathing.
Okay, that's a bit over-dramatic, but I bet most people have somewhat similar experiences. It's been a while since I've written about myself like this and I promise it won't be a regular feature. I didn't really get too deep into it on this one anyway. I've always tried to leave the touchy-feely, self-pitying blog posts to other people, but I also feel obligated to put something up here, and this is just how it goes this week.
In other news, last week was the deadliest of the year so far for American troops in Iraq. 18 killed. Front page news? Hardly. Any guesses how many Iraqis died last week? Me neither, but I'd bet the house it was a few more than 18.
Oh! But look over there! Britney Spears was in a fender-bender!
Fucking shit, people.