A Writer's Notebook, Day Seven-Hundred-And-Seventy-Four

I am thinking a lot about my brother tonight.  My relationship with him has been very strained, and it has gotten far worse in the recent past.  It is, however, only a matter of it being more acute, but I think the underlying issues have been there for a long while.  The specific cause of the recent escalation in tensions is my brother's decision to buy a house down the street from the one that Melissa and I just bought.  As I have mentioned, I believe, I asked him not to purchase a house so close to me, and he agreed to this without commenting upon the issue.  If he had spoken with me in advance, it might well have been different, and we could be quite a bit closer, but instead, it felt, and still feels, as if my feelings are not at all important to him in any real sense, as if my perspective is not worth seeing as legitimate or meaningful.  He has claimed, subsequent to my being upset, that he was hurt by my not wanting him to live there, and that may well be, but he never said anything about this until he had created a situation where my feelings were only relevant as an imposition I was putting on him.  As well, it seems rather strange for him to say this, considering statements he has made before.  Once, when Melissa and I were out for a pleasant dinner with Eugene, during a mild conversation, he decided to state that if we were not brothers, and had just met by chance, he would not be my friend at all.  Yet, he claims, now, that I am hurting him by my response.  The entire thing has had me feeling terrible for so long now, and I do not know at all what to do about it.  In truth, I want him to take some kind of action that shows he actually understands and respects me, but that does not seem likely, and I am not sure what kind of gesture he could make at this point, considering he has already committed to buying this house.  His behavior has done nothing but make me feel that I am correct in my assessment of the situation, especially as he has never truly taken any kind of real responsibility for hitting me (on purpose) with his car, but has, instead, minimized it as much as possible.  I don't know what is possible, and I feel as if any effort I make will just become a tool for manipulating me and making me feel even smaller.  I've tried for so long to do things to bring us closer together and to demonstrate my care for him, but he always responds in a way that makes it feel like a wasted effort.  I hope this time turns out to be different, especially because it will be impossible to be happy in this house, for either Melissa or I, if it does not change when he lives here.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Poem: Neighborhood Inhabitants

Neighborhood Inhabitants There was a fox once, and another time, otters, and now a peacock that we think got lost during one of the storms. She stays down on the other end of the street, though, does not visit us. We have a racoon family that stays in our tree some nights, and there is a baby lizard, a brown basilisk, who we have seen several times. It is not supposed to be here, is invasive and troublesome to the local ecosystem, as are the duck.  I hear there are giant snails now who eat stucco or concrete or something of that sort. I have not seen one, though, I just heard they are here and big as my fist.
Read more

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Seventy-Three

I am still finding it difficult to get back to a more productive work schedule at the moment.  In part, I am sure it is that I gave myself permission to slack off a bit, and it is difficult to walk that back, especially because I am still writing and being productive, even if not to the same degree. I know it would be good to get back to doing more writing, but I also know that I am still meeting my core obligations, even if at a more minimal level.  Really, I just need to make the choice and force myself to stick to it.  To that end, I am planning to at least get back to work on my longer projects again tomorrow, even if I don't increase the poetry output right away.
Read more

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-One-Hundred-And-Thirty-Three

I received my acceptance to attend workshop at the Palm Beach Poetry Festival next year and am very excited to be working with Matthew Olzmann, a poet whose work I have admired for some time.  He has a rare capacity for being simultaneously absurd and serious in ways that are hysterical, but with devastating insights underneath.  I feel quite fortunate to have the PBPF, and can say, honestly, that each workshop I have attended there has been incredible.  As a person who has taken many workshops in my life, and who often finds them wanting, I am always astounded at the caliber of the classes at the festival, both in the instruction and in the community of poets I have encountered.  I only wish it could be more than just one week out of the year.
Read more