And then it was Sunday

I wound up getting a little more done than I'd thought I would over the rest of the evening. Cleaned up a bit, finally restored some old photos I'd been meaning to deal with, did a little work on my t-shirt designs, and made myself a really nice meal that sort of hit the spot.

I find that it's nights like these, when I'm forcing myself to stay in but would much rather be out enjoying a late summer's night, that I get a little lonely and wistful. It's really just feeling sorry for myself or something, I guess, but when I make the effort to make myself a nice meal and enjoy a glass of wine, it somehow feels a little more worth it, and my headspace clears a bit. As it did tonight.

Tomorrow holds activities with GayBoy and my brother. I'm not nervous, I think we'll have a good time. I suppose I should explain "nervous." I love my brother dearly and have been fiercely protective of him in the past, but we've had a very hate-hate-love relationship since our youth, as we've always argued a lot. My brother comes from a pretty fucked-up place, thanks to a lot of things that went down in his life in his teens (funny how two kids can be raised in the same house and have such different issues and experiences) and it's left him a bad drunk and a few other things over the years.

He's begun to work on everything negative in his life and he's owning up to the dick he once was, and I'm really, really proud of him. I'm really happy we're getting a relationship on track for the first time in our lives. One of the things I've been really despondent about over the last seven or so years is that our relationship seemed to be getting worse after my mother died, not better. But in the last year, that changed.

I've always been the kind of person who knows how to look after people when they need it. God knows I've needed it myself in the past. Last November my brother was hit by a Chevy Suburban when he shouldn't have been riding his scooter after a few beers. He was in a coma for five days and was covered with injuries from head to toe. It was a scary, scary time. He'd just moved into a new apartment and the place was a shithole. I went and cancelled all my tutoring work for a few days and spent three solid days over there moving him in and cleaning it up. That's about all that was ever done to his apartment until this week, when he finally tackled things and really moved in. But for awhile there I was being the Good Sister -- bringing some food over, running errands, that sort of thing. I think he was surprised that I was so there for him then, and I think he appreciated it, but he never said much.

I stopped helping him when I saw him starting to drink again and being irresponsible, but that was only a short lapse and I think it was out of frustration with realizing how injured he was and how much pain he was in, and that it wasn't going to be a two-week healing session after all. Then he started cleaning up again and this chick who was a bad influence left town for good, and since then he's been coming into a whole new life for himself.

I'm glad. I'm really glad. So I think tomorrow will be the first time he doesn't make an ass out of himself in front of my friends. He's always been so insecure that he's overdrank and has acted like an imbecile -- which sucks, 'cos he's got this heart of gold and a terrific personality, when he wants to use it. Insecurities are a bitch. God, do I ever know that! But he's been a lot better for awhile now. I'd love to be able to include him in my life, have him over for parties and stuff, and maybe now I can. That'd be terrific.

(Here's where I should say that I've been a bitch towards him off and on over the years, too. I'm no angel. The faults in the relationship went both ways, but we've both been trying harder to support each other this year, which has been trying for us both. But he's gone through heavy shit nearly dying and all and I was able to tell him how the path unfolded for me, and what he could expect. I think that made it easier on him, but also laid the groundwork for a deeper relationship for us. Funny how adversities can play out that way.)

I've been teaching him to cook, too, and that's been a blast. I do love food and I'm a good cook, and I'm good at it not just because I can understand recipes, but because I understand the science and the art of it. Understanding the science of cooking makes everything so much easier. Having the imagination to know how ingredients will interact, well, that ain't something you can learn too easily, I don't think, and I've been cooking for 27 of my 32 years now. (IE: Making Sunday roasts for the family by 9!) But it's awesome to have a willing student who wants to learn everything. Now I've got him making some Thai food and Italian food and such. Soon I'll teach him the fine art of soups.

Yeah, my brother's just like any other person with a troubled past, I guess. He's come a hell of a long way and I think he's not done yet. It's inspiring to me, since I'm working on some of my negatives right now, too. He's a world away already from how he was last October 1st for my birthday party (ack, another one's just under a month away! 33!), so I'm really looking forwards to how he turns out.

In the meantime, we're forcing him to make us breakfast in the morning. Heh! We're bringing the food, but, hey, it's kinda like a shotgun brekkie. Should be good.