oh, neglected friends! how i grovel for forgiveness at your very worthy and well shorn feet! don't hate me, for i love thee!

so... who saw this coming?

i've got lots of back-posting to do, and perhaps some day i'll get to it, though i'm having a very bitter, honest moment right now, and bitter honesty in my case usually devolves into cynicism, so, make sure you read with that in mind.

it's what i like to call "my first day back in the real world," following almost a week of travel, family visits, and the criss-crossing of several state lines. there also was a jewish wedding in there somewhere, as well as an engagement party, a tattoo party, and a burrito buffet, not in any way in that order. i know i'm coming off of a long stretch of having little to no idea of what being busy really feels like, but i'm going to go out on a limb here and say that this weekend was busier than most i've had of late.

so, let me set the scene for you un peu: i wake up at 9:30; a respectable time, i feel, for a twentysomething with no real pressing need for sentience to get up. i walk downstairs, to where my dear mother is still in her nightgown, looking over the paper, a cup of coffee on the table in front of her. after a quick check of my e-mail (nothing but my daily update from the hollywood reporter), i have a light breakfast of quaker oat squares (delicious), after which i make a cup of coffee. my mom has mentioned going to the y to work out, and has invited me, an invitation i did not decline, although i imagine my lack of enthusiasm to go all the way to 1st avenue and fourteenth street might have colored her perception of my enthusiasm for the endeavor. at this point she declares she's going to be in her room. it's just me, now, with my cup of coffee, alone in the kitchen/dining room/tv area, and so i turn on the ol' telly. what do i find? why, it's a classic episode of the x-files, one of the jucier conspiracy episodes. i've got my coffee, my tv, and nowhere to be really... not bad for a rainy tuesday morning, right?

now, it's possible, probable, perhaps, that my mom doesn't understand that an episode of the x-files for me is kind of like, what, dragnet is for her? it's a trip down memory lane, part of my cultural upbringing; it brings me back to my middle school days, when friday afternoons and evenings were given over to spending time with my friends, discussing possible conspiracy theories and crank-calling the local radio station. good times, you know?

anyway, about two-thirds of the way through the show, my mom comes downstairs, having donned her workout clothes, and asks if nows a good time to have a "heart-to-heart." i've known my parents long enough to know that no relative importance of a specific tv show could ever override a request for such a converstation, and, knowing that cancer-man has moved the spaceship to a bunker in minnesota or montana, a bunker that krycek will eventually become trapped (entombed?) in, i douse the tv and prepare myself for what i'm pretty sure is coming.

the word that i believe was used the most throughout my mom's portion of the conversation was "worried." "me and dad are really worried about you spending all day on the couch watching television." "we worry that you're not getting out into the world and making connections." "and we're just really worried that you won't have any funds or anything for yourself."

if i were more devoted to spontaneous comedy and less of a pussy when it comes to being an asshole, i think the most appropriate reaction would have been to make what i'd like to now dub the "anna eisenberg sound." it's a kind of a groan/whine in tonality, but conveys nothing but sheer annoyance. but, instead i laid out my reasons as to why i thought that it was a bit early to start worrying about long-term unemployment (we've only been home in the city for eighteen hours), why they didn't need to worry about me becoming a total slacker (though my year in nice and my summer in san francisco were fun, they were by no means a long-term goal in terms of busyness), and how i understand their fears and concerns, and promised to keep talking to them about what's going on, blah blah blah. at no time did i smoke pot on the living room couch, nor did i use the terms "riding my ass," or "it's my life, i'll do what i want."

what's really upsetting for me is that, as far as i can tell, what is more upsetting for them than my sitting on the couch watching the x-files is my sitting on the couch watching the x-files, while pursuing a job in the entertainment industry. for reasons that escape me on a very broad level, my interest in such a career is like a drinking problem. just last winter, my dad was saying to me that "this is an industry that leaves bodies behind..." substitute the word "addicition" for "industry," and we might as well be talking about a nifty little methamphetamine problem. i'm so used to having my parents support for most things, that the lack thereof feels unfamiliar (okay, to be fair, it took them a little while to come around to both the newspaper and stage crew at lowell... but they did come around).

and, i guess it goes hand in hand with this, the fact that they seem to believe that i don't have a realistic grip on the situation is equally disturbing. sure, i've had my moments of wackier schemes and life-plans, but i've always felt that one of my nicer attributes is having an okay head on my shoulders and keeping fairly good tabs on where i am. maybe that's my inner egotist speaking, but i think if i started doubting myself as much as my parents seem to be doing, i'd become pretty lost pretty fast.

the coda to this is something that i think we could all see coming: living with my parents this year is going to be at the very least a challenge. i think, if it's necessary, it'll be doable, but, as much as i love hanging out with them when everyone's feeling groovy, their (for lack of a better word) harping is going to drive me up a wall faster than i would ever admit to out loud. the kicker to all of this, of course, is that things could be entirely different within a week... the long island job or the marvel job could come through (knock on wood), and before i know it, i'm knee deep in midtown or hamptons, depending. i can only pray for such a miracle, both for my own interest, but also in the interest of the good relations between me and my parents. otherwise... heaven help us.