Thursday, December 23, 2004

Christmas Eve Eve

Well, I'm at the Steans family mansion as I write this, and hopefully the parents are all tucked into bed.
It's always weird travelling back to my folks' house in beautiful Spring, Texas. I never lived here with my family for anything more than a couple of months at a time (they moved here during my senior year of high school while I stayed in Austin), and I guess because of that, Spring has always been a place that has existed for me outside of my normal space-time continuum. Spring is the place I come to in order to visit the family while my "real life" gets put on hold. In my parents' house, all times become one- past and present intersect constantly and sometimes violently here. I can be rooting through a drawer looking for some toothpaste and inadvertantly come across a photograph of one of my best friends from 6th grade or come across some angst-ridden notebook of high school song lyrics/poetry while hunting for the Yellow Pages. To add to the confusion, upon returning here, we (like many families, I would surmise) tend to quickly fall back into the parent-child and older-younger sibling relationships which were established in childhood. When I return to the folks' house, suddenly I'm not a 31 year old lawyer capable of bearing the responsibility of holding someone's legal future in his hands- instead I'm just Karen and Rick's kid. The parents' house is littered with relics of the past and times lost in the fog of history, but it's usually within 48 hours of returning to my parents' house that I have my first dream of some long forgotten friend, love interest, or hazy event that I never quite came to terms with from years past. History is always hot on my heels at Steans Manor, and the life-suspension-introspection effect that comes with staying here can be a bit disorienting.

In other news, I got an email today from Suzannah Sennetti today who said she would be in Houston over the Christmas break, so I'll have to try to catch up with her. Suzannah is a good friend and crazy kid who moved to Washington, D.C. a while back, possibly to become a spy, although she won't admit that to me. You never know what's going to be going on with Suzannah (she once talked me into shoving her furniture into my closet for 4 months when she decided to run off to India for awhile), so this could be interesting.


erin boyd said...

Well, well. If it isn't Jason Steans. Here's an old skeleton from your closet... Erin Stewart. I couldn't think of a more appropriate blog to comment on. Perhaps you came across an old creepy letter I wrote to you and Kevin Palka containing detailed plans for a global takeover in one of those drawers. Hope all is well. It's always good to know a high powered criminal lawyer.


Anonymous said...

No matter what else becomes of this blog (besides a welcome distraction from office work) it has managed to bring forth the incomparable Erin Stewart. Well done, Steanso. Surely, not even the League of Melbotis can boast of such a resurrection. Peace and happiness to you during this holiday season.

J.S. said...

Wow. Speaking of diruptions in the space-time continuum... For those of you who don't know her, Erin Stewart was a fellow Westwood Warrior who I first got to know in middle school as a saxophone player and classmate. We spent many a year together trying to break up the monotony of the Round Rock school system, largely by tormenting our teachers. She was always a wicked funny little girl, and I am not afraid to say that Erin always seemed much smarter than me, mostly without even trying.

The League said...

Actually, Lee... The League has actually been a great dragnet for people searching for none other than yours truly. Madi, Jill, Brenda, Meredith... a lot of dames. Apparently none of the male contingent of my youth gives a damn about what's become of me.

Sure, Erin Stewart didn't pop up looking for me, but I'm quite proud of the folks who've surfaced in the comments and e-mails to The League.

Anonymous said...

Thou shall not talk unfavorably about the League.