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3:21 p.m.

Lana feelsThe current mood of xengirl at www.imood.com

Leaving tomorrow for the family reunion... I'm feeling the strangest urge to pierce something. My family does this to me. I want family - big realization of the last few years. I really do. I want to be close to my grandparents, to hear their stories, not to miss out on that connection to the past in general and my past in particular. I want to know more about where I come from, and these people, these simple, quiet people with their ice-bound roots, are a huge part of me. But we are so damn quiet. The strong, silent type, every one. We don't talk about our private lives or ask awkward questions. We don't share our feelings. We talk about where we're going to school or how the job is (always fine, fine) and if somebody gets married, we'll say congratulations and maybe they'll talk about how they met, if it's something nice. We don't gossip, or fight, at least never openly, and we've been known to go miniature golfing. Maybe I just don't know them well - we've always lived away from the cluster, and my mother can't stand them and their stability so we don't see as much of them as we might. Even at the reunions, I've always been out of place - there're the older ones, a group of 4 or 5 who are about 6 years older than me and then a few more older and younger than that but in the same group. They were the 'big kids' when I was a 'little kid', they were the teenagers when I was a 'big kid', they were the college kids when I was a younger teen, and now I'm not sure who anyone is. Cause 17 is still teen, but in my case it's also collegey, and there are probably some in that group who are still in college. There's also the younger kids, from my 14 year old sister down to lap babies. And in between, there's me. Right at the tail end of the older half of my generation, too old for the next group, and really not fitting into either one anyhow. So I forsee the where-are-you-going-to-college-what-will-you-major-in-isn't-that-nice discussion with endless ranks of well-meaning adults with only the faintest clue of who I am. Hence, the desire to pierce something. Maybe they'd blink.

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