Pinpoints, assumptions.

In speaking with my dad and sister the other night, LiveJournal came up. Neither of them are on it; my sister doesn't have the time or inclination for it, and my dad isn't a journaller. Neither of them read mine (the one they know about), either, as far as I knew. My dad then said that he has read it in the past; he's the one who pointed my mother to it, the one time she commented. I'm glad he stops by sometime; I wonder how often. I wonder if he still feels out of the loop of my life, when I've extended invitations to my family to read my life as I present it to everyone.

I spoke to my older brother as well, mentioning that I knew a tidbit because I read it in LJ, and he would also be more informed if he read some journals on here, like mine for instance. He said "you know, I've read yours, and you seem to like telling people what you had for dinner and that you did laundry. I'm more about knowing what drives you, what you think about. I guess I'm more a meta-person." (That last part is a paraphrase, but that was the gist of it.) This saddened me.

I looked through about a month or two of my public journal, looking at the themes of what I wrote. I went through a number of posts about my workplace, my family, things that annoyed me or made me happy, and there were indeed paragraphs, some small and some medium, about what I was eating or cooking. That's my life. I do post introspective pieces, but not often when I'm posting from work, which is all the time since my home computer died in late September. I resent the fact that some of my off-line friends and family think it's all about the minutiae. You can't expect to pop in once every four months and find the depths of my soul on the first entry. My life is not all minutiae that only I would find noteworthy. It bothers me that that's all some people see. (then again, if that's what they see, that's what they must think of my conversations as well, since I write as I speak; do they like hanging out with me? Okay, dumb question, we're talking about my family and friends. Friends would leave, family would just cope and deal.)

It makes me feel like they don't want to go through the effort of knowing me. They're happy with the occasional phonecall, which also doesn't get to the deep philosophical (and if it doesn then it's forced and extemporaneous from me). You think you can always talk metaphysics and geopolitics and sociological ramifications of literary movements with people? Fuckin' wrong. You have to talk the bullshit how was your day how do you feel how was that last movie what did you do over the weekend before you can get to the good stuff. Try being my friend for a while before pumping me for my life philosophy.

The last paragraph was directed at my older brother. Please do not take it as a personal affront to you, unless you are he, and if you are, then fuckin' get a clue already. You may be my brother, but you're not my friend and I don't converse with you as such.

Then again, I rarely reach out to my older bro either. Maybe the difference is what we expect when we do reach out, what type of relationship each of us really desires of the other.

Crap. Maybe I should eat more today, or go into therapy or something. I had an amusing dream that my dad discovered (through giving me a hug) that I had bruises that I knew came from my last scene, and I woke up slightly panicked. It was hilarious, in that not really kind of way.

The really amusing question is, why not post this in my public journal, since I think they don't read it? The obvious answer is because they do pop in from time to time, and wouldn't that be the perfect one? That's me, nonconfrontative in emotional matters. Give me a work situation any day over this one. (okay, I should really stop typing now.)