Cousin Comparison

Needless to say, going home, back to into the fold of my Mother's loving, outstretched arms this past week was rejuvenating. (Not to mention cost effective). But there were some uncomfortable comparisons to be drawn once there. If my professional and romantic lives are at a stand-still (and they are), my cousins put me to shame. (I am one of the 3 oldest. I'm not counting the younger ones. I'm sure I look accomplished compared to a 6th grader).

The cousin that was born 6 days before me (because he was concieved on the same family reunion- go ahead, say it: 'EEEEW!') is going to medschool in the fall. With his girlfriend. Of six years. Who will also be studying to be a doctor. An OBGYN, to be exact. They have never done anything sexual. And they're getting married next June. If I didn't really love him, I'd really hate him, you know?

And then there's the cousin that's 5 months older. Professionally, she's at even more of a standstill than I am. But it's not a big deal, because though she's known for tearing through the wrong guys (it was a bonding point for us) she has now found one that's nearly perfect. It's been 3 months and he adores her. His family even owns a dealership, too. (What's the opposite of an Oedipus complex??) She's thinking she's not going to have a career. Grandmother thinks she might want to be his wife instead.

And then there's me.

The family wasn't told anything about why I was coming home on such short notice, but they knew something was up. I had never done that before, never pulled a PTFU (Pop The Fuck Up). So the first night I got there, one of my 7 cousins, a sophmore in college, ran up to me:

"Roar-y! Roar-y! Why are you home?"
I wasn't ready to tell anyone. So I lied: "I got knocked up."
She didn't even miss a beat: "O great! I'm gonna be an Aunt!"

I told her I was kidding, but I didn't have the heart at the time to tell her she was wrong on two counts: I cannot and would not make her an Aunt anytime soon.

That simple, untold truth led to another low point later that week: I began considering what would happen if I was actually pregnant. Maybe I shouldn't take certain decisions for granted. Maybe that would make my life simpler. At least then I wouldn't feel so aimless. Then I would have direction. Daydreaming, I began to wonder what specifically I'd do in that situation... move home... go to grad school at night... write for the local paper...

Don't judge. I said it was a low point. I may be lacking direction right now, but I refuse to let my story get tied up that way. Surely I can figure out what I'm doing. Surely.

That's what this Summer will be: Figuring shit out in what I'm now calling the "Summer of Roar."