isotope:One of two or more atoms having the same atomic number but different mass numbers.

So it's the same. Only different. That's my goal here on this blog, I'll be entering thoughts and findings that have the same thread (me) but are vastly different.

Today's catalyst: Family

Some people have close-knit families, some have distant, estranged, violent, submissive, cultured, hillbilly or passive-aggressive. Mine is just downright strange. Now I know that everyone thinks that their family is strange, but hear me out. I have no idea how my sister and I sprang from my mother and father's flesh. Sometimes I think that it must have been similar to the birth of Athena. I know for a certainty that my sibling and I split my father's skull wide open at some point if not literally, figuratively. Let me give you the gorey details.

My mother is an aging hippie. Yes that's right marijuana and all, right down to the core. She's been living in the mountains of California for the last 20 or so years, and shows no sign of wanting to come down from her sierra high. Mom was always the partier. First it was The Beatles, then it was The Who, then it was Zeppelin, then it was 4 o'clock in the morning and she couldn't stand up when dad got her home. She was the fun one.

My father is a genuine hermit. He wasn't always that way, but apparently when he came home from war, he didn't want anything to do with most of the human race, so he moved us into the northern California foothills from Los Angeles. The foothills were not then what they are now. There was no sign of suburban life, or even civilization at that point. We subsistence farmed and traded for a good deal of our food for a few years when I was younger. These day's he's a little bit better, but when I ask him to come visit me in NYC he just laughs so loud I have to hold the phone away from my ear. He dreams of one day retiring on a beach in Mexico. I don't blame him, it's a nice thought.

My sister is everything that I am not. We were mortal enemies growing up. From day one she played the innocent blonde victim to my older darker villain, or at least that's how she'd have it painted. She's the nurturing one these days. She takes care of the grandparents and studies to be a nurse. She is a loudmouth. She disdains most of the things that I hold dear, and I, in my turn, return the favor. She is still short and blonde.

Describing one's self is never easy to do. I think that you'll understand it when I postulate that there is an inherent bias to self reporting. In short I could rely on the trusty old ego and tell you that I am perfect. I am a god among men. But that would be misleading. I am neither of these. I am a musician, post-production audio engineer and corporate slave. I have perfected the art of wearing generic button down shirts for 9 hours a day and shedding it immediately to reveal whichever personality most suits my mood thereafter. I think it would be most descriptive to sum my qualities as comparisons to the qualities of my family listed above. I love being around people. I love being in the push of a crowd. I love being alone. I love working diligently. I love being quietly irreverent. I love the grit present in city and in country. I am a pacifist. I am intent on constant change and challenge.

Our family, until recently spanned California. Now with me in NYC I am further removed from them. We are not however, what I would call distant with each other. Despite physical distance and sometimes extended telephone absences we seem to be able to pick up right where we left off. Whether that be mid-insult, or mid-conversation.