Girl's Gone Child: Liner Notes 9/24

My little brother's getting married. I don't know why I just typed "little" because he's about to be thirty and he's a legit adult and, like, ten feet taller than I am, but when I think of him, I think of him being this little kid.

And everyone in the neighborhood is wearing rainbow suspenders.

And every car on the road is a Datsun.

My mom recently called me all excited because her friend's son, who I used to babysit, is "now an associate editor at Vogue magazine" and I had a full-on Romy and Michelle moment where I was like, "NO WAY! BUSINESS WOMAN SPECIAL! I INVENTED POST-ITS!" And then I went back through my Vogue magazines and looked for his name and pictured this five-year-old boy sitting with Anna Wintour a la Devil Wears Prada and her saying, “THIS STEAK ISN'T RARE! WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT SCARVES!” And him saying, "Yes, ma'am!"

This is what always happens, and I realized why, over the weekend, while kids' birthday party hopping. I have a very hard time being myself around most parents. I assumed this was something I'd grow out of but here I am, almost a decade later and I'm just as hopelessly uncomfortable around large quantities of parents. Kids, on the other hand. I can totally sit with and introduce myself and carry on a conversation and feel... myself.

Maybe because children are unapologetic when it comes to being oddballs. They talk about the best stuff, and after spending the last eight plus years embedded in their world, my experience is that they just get it. Because honest people usually do.

Plus, most parent-on-parent situations feel... forced? (ED: In LA it's especially weird. You are regularly introduced to people you already know because they play characters in movies and shows or they're in bands and then you have to pretend you don't know who they are which makes you feel like a total asshole because you know their names already and now they're introducing themselves and you can either A. be the girl who lives under a rock or B. come off like a fan which you cannot do even if you are one. It's socially illegal.)

So, anyway. The other day at one of the kids' friend's birthday parties, I sat in the sandbox with my social circle of five-year-olds and we talked about our poop and superheroes and how awesome glitter is and it was more insightful than any conversation I had had in weeks. Meanwhile Hal hung with his social circle of six year olds, running around in the grass with everyone going, "AHHHHHH!!!!"

And I fell in love with him all over again.

Because that's the kind of man I'm gonna marry.

Anyway, the point that I sat down to make before I went off the rails and became a total misanthrope/aspiring daycare teacher/vaguenamedropper was this: my little brother is getting married. And I'm so thrilled for him and his unbelievable girlfriend, who is going to be my SISTER-IN-LAW, that I have spent the last week all verklempt for my brother. And Fable? Oh, man. She is the most excited person on earth because she gets to be a flower girl, Uncle David SAID! (Bo and Revi will be, too. I think my mom is already making their dresses as I type this.)

And, yes, it takes everything not to picture my brother as a fifteen year old kid, playing MAGIC: The Gathering, surrounded by friends in capes, but that's only because I love him.

That's only because, that boy is in there somewhere and I still see him. I look for him. I have to. It's how I connect to the people I love. Show me your inner child and I'll show you mine. It isn't sexy and it sounds totally weird but it's how I make friends and sustain relationships. It's why I'm so incredibly grateful for the friends I have. (And why judging from the tone of this post, I need to make more time to see them. Sheesh.)

....This just went way off the rails again, sorry.

David? If you're reading this? I love you as my little brother but ALSO as a grown-up man person and I'm so incredibly happy for you and Alyssa. Love and light.