What is the difference between Community and Family?

     Journal:
     My brother was home from Eastern this week. He spent most of his nights going out, but he stayed in a few times and we were able to catch up. Days later, we repeated the reconnection with the whole family. 'Twas reminiscent of times past, when the four of us were always home.
     A gal I had been hoping to connect with for a while finally made some plans with me. I joined Gina and her group of friends to a fun night out at Toad's. Being thrown into the midst of an intimate social group of which I only knew one person was a great experience. Having a gift as a peace offering helped too (cookies yaay). Seeing people interact with other people they are close to told me a lot about who they are, and I was able to learn a lot about a lot of people in a short time. I didn't end up talking with Gina too much, but I talked with her enough to learn what I needed to learn from her. Thanks Gina for that, and for the great night out!
     The very next day (ugh how do some people do this every week?) I went to another show at Toad's! (See story).
     After all that I was pretty down. Stagnating or wasting time is bad enough, but being set back from our goals is particularly demoralizing. I sort of moped about much of the day, trying to find someone online to chat with that would help inspire some reflection. Thanks to the battery on my mouse dying, I was able to peel myself away from my computer to mope about in the real world looking for the same thing. I of course found none other than my family, who were doing exactly the same thing as me at the time (for their own reasons I'm sure). It's actually miraculous just how quickly my mood shifted once I got the idea. I went from drained of energy and sullen to curling my dumbell and exuberant within minutes from each other. The idea, of course, was to gather the family and reconnect, as mentioned above. My mother, Brother, and I all smoked, chatted, reflected, reminisced, and shared bread pudding. Father joined us later and played his guitar. Now I think I'm generally pretty self-expressive, but I realized that my dad is on a whole other level. Being able to so eloquently and unabashedly express oneself in real-time is a huge goal of mine.
     My week ended, as they have been recently, with Claire and I spending quality time together. Though our initial plans went awry, we made the most of it and had, as ever, a wonderful time.


     Reflection:
     I realized that I have not "caught up" with my brother, well, ever. I recall returning from college, him having started High School, and both of us being quite different. The spunky little kid that played video games with me and was a vegetarian solely because I was (obviously!) had a short baseball phase, but then got into hip-hop and outlandish facebook comments and gaffs. I didn't know what to make of him then, nor did I know how to adequately express to him the changes that I underwent. I subsequently treated him as another member of the family that I knew loved and cared for me, but wasn't so involved in my life that they necessarily knew what was going on with me or what I was struggling and striving for.
     This certainly doesn't apply to everyone, but I think some of us like to just put our best foot forward for our family. We don't want them to worry, we want them to be proud of us, etc. Whatever the reason, this sort of "positive appearance only" policy has the effect of slowly estranging us from our loved ones. Maybe that's what some people want, but ideally we could be honest and open about our lives with the people closest to us. That's a good ideal to strive for.
    

     Story:
     Just about every month, a local Grateful Dead cover band called Shakedown plays a free show at Toad's Place. The show is always amazing, the people that show up are generally exceedingly friendly, and the whole scene is something I guess I just really dig. It's always a great time! So, the final show before my departure, I was definitely not going to miss it. There's a lot of people that I've met there over the months that I wanted to see one last time. Actually, being accepted by this group of people had been important to me in recent months. While I wouldn't go so far as to say I became a member of the community, I was definitely well received. So, despite there being a first-day-of-Spring blizzard that night, I suited up and rode through the storm to get to the show!
     Some friends I invited, including Noah (my omgbff since 7th grade), changed their minds about coming due to the weather. I felt little sympathy after I peddled for more than two hours in it, but whatever! I love getting to these shows early because when the first band starts to play, usually there's no one on the floor, and I love to be the first one dancing. It's really cool seeing how going up alone can inspire people to get out of their chairs. That, and everybody there becomes aware of my amazing moves, and seems to consider me the coolest bean in the pot.
     From the moment I arrived to the end of the night, I encountered people I'd been meeting there and at similar local events for months. Most people expressed sadness to see me go, but also awe at my endeavour. There was one pair of women I had not seen since November. Back then I had let one of them borrow a scarf my uncle had given me. She left with it that night back to their home in Massachusetts. I finally encountered them again, and she returned the scarf. We danced together at some point, and I invited them to hang out after. They weren't feeling it I guess, but I walked them to their car when they left, and that's a suitable ending to that story for me.
     I returned to the show and danced 'til the music stopped. Just letting it out feels amazing. I had, unfortunately, completely forgotten about my bag I left under a bench, which contained by helmet, jacket, and cell phone, among other things. After the show I went to get it, but it was gone! I couldn't believe anyone could steal it... But it was no where to be found. It was snowing again, softly. The wind cut right through the sweater I was wearing. Everyone from the show had gone, and there I was cold and alone in the gently falling snow on the streets of New Haven. My friends I invited hadn't come, the people I was meeting there didn't want to pursue a connection with me, and my things were all gone... All except for, inside my pocket, my ID, debit card, and... The keys to Claire's place.
     I jogged through the snow, feeling down, yet alive. There was a lesson here, and if I could stop feeling sorry for myself I could see it. Well, I think I understood the lesson, but when Claire opened her door with an excited smile, I can not describe the emotions I felt. I had messed up, and was in quite the jam, but not only was Claire there to provide me with all of my basic needs, she did so happily. The emotions inspired by this act made me realize just how much I was going to miss her. She does so much for me, and asks so little in return. I helped her with laundry and we chatted over tea about my time, but I was exhausted, and then soon became overwhelmed with fatigue.
     Claire disappeared for work the next morning. I awoke much later and started getting myself ready to leave. Claire left a note that I shouldn't ride home without my helmet and that she would drive me later, but I couldn't accept that and headed out when I was ready. Besides, I needed the ride to clear my head. My father happened to drive by me though, and even with the warmth of the sun I was rather cold... So I ended up getting a ride home anyways.


     Poetry:
     Firstly, this collaboration with a man named "Max."
     Though I love the whole hippie scene, it is often made up of a rather specific type of person. I won't pretend to know about the proclivities of personality types in regards to who goes to what shows, but I can not help but notice that the majority of Jam Rock show attendees are white (at least here in Connecticut). So outside Toad's, there were three African-American men hanging around, trying to talk with people. Certainly, there were some people that did talk to them. As for people that didn't perhaps it was because they were obviously pan handling for free cigarettes, trying to get into the show for free, and hitting on young women. Regardless of their intentions though, I didn't want these men to feel excluded because of the color of their skin, so I went over and chatted with them. I mentioned I was from the area, and he inquired if I was born at Yale New Haven Hospital. When I said I was, he shared this bit of wisdom, which I felt was particularly poetic, and so transcribed here.

     "Hospital name (if applicable) and/or street address"

     We are Yale babies. We come from Yale. We will always be Yale. But we will never go to Yale. We will never walk inside its buildings; never get past its walls. Yale gave birth to us but Yale don't love us.




     Also, this poem ain't done.
     It's the sort of poem that aught not be finished:

     "blah"

     My road is blocked
     by some unseen force
     my actions a waste
     my direction off course.
     The goal is still clear
     yet I can not seem to find
     my spirit to guide me
     impart reason and rhyme.
     I sulk and I mope
     lost in my own abode
     doors now closed to me
     my memories erode.
     Sunk in some slippery pit!
     Escape entirely cordoned
     Slumping into walls of mud
     my measly lot bemoaned.
     Though I feel an island
     I struggle not alone.
     Many such travelers
     held in place by a groan.