10/19/2005

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trying to learn to share

What a weird world we live in. Shit! I can’t even begin to explain to you the oddity of the last week. To sum things up as simply as possible, a family member, my sisters, who I haven’t spoke to in nearly 10 years found me on the network site Myspace.

Knowing now that there is an audience reading my blog and profile page on Myspace, which I’m connected to by blood, is really strange. Especially, when you’ve been dealing with the mixed emotions of trying to re-enter into said families lives like nothing ever happen.

I often use this little space as a means of communicating short essays about my political, social, and economic views. While each of my writings is personal to me, the general goal is to open a path of discussion between my friends. So in essence I’ve never posted anything personal, beyond the trivial story, to entertain.

This is something new. I’m posting because my mind can no longer contain the freighting aspect that I have sisters someplace else and I’ve been absent from their lives for the last twelve years. This is the sad truth. The state of affairs that I find myself locked too.
Am I happy? Yes. I am. I’ve found myself through the years always planning that one-day I would return to the Reichl side of the family. But because of a mixture of fear, anger, and general laziness I’ve kept my distance. But, shit, I’m an adult now. I should have packed in the little kid concerns and made the leap, after all my sister did.

So here I am and all I can do is imagine how they are feeling. To have a brother they don’t know as their friend. I find myself questioning if I should move them to my first eight friends on my Myspace account. I question if I should leave a witty remark on their profiles…I find myself just questioning everything.

Katrina can’t even help me wade through this stockpile of confusion. She has a brother, and despite her desire to be closer to him, she knows where their relationship stands. He actively chooses to keep pleasantries but not to involve himself too hole heartedly into the relationship process that some brothers and sisters share. This is their understanding…but what kind of understanding can I achieve with my sisters.

I can’t be an asshole brother, because I haven’t been a brother at all.

So I find myself sitting on the long end of a letter written in bad English from my sister Amber. I find myself drawn to my sister Robyn and Amber’s mySpace profiles looking at their friends, reading their on-line quizzes. I find myself stumbling over pictures and wondering who the hell they are.

And even with all this confusion I feel myself wanting to be there and peruse a relationship.

At least all three Reichl kids like punk rock.

At least we have that. At least they can know that I’ve done cool things in the punk rock scene. I’ll run the risk of sounding trite, but maybe, we can use that as the fire starter.

Maybe I can tell them about the time I was on tour and our van almost fell of the side of a mountain in New Mexico, Or about the times I played in nothing but boxers and spit on preppy girls in the front row when I had that band in highschool. Maybe they would think it was sweet that my girlfriend and I have been playing music together for the last seven years.

One thing is for sure with me starting the new band in Austin and my obscene amount of travel for VersaSuite I think Washington will become an important stop.
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Last time I was home, on business, I couldn’t stop thinking about dropping by my Dad’s place. But with the stress of work I couldn’t muster myself the courage to be rejected. It’s nice to know that blood weighs more then time.

So if Amber or Robyn read this please know that I appreciate the risk in e-mailing me. I appreciate that after all these years, especially Amber, still cares enough to try to contact her brother. This means a lot to me.

I hope this is the start of something wonderful. I hope that one day I can teach you both that there is more to punk rock than Fall Out Boy. I hope that you can both come to Austin someday and meet all the cool and interesting people I call friend. I just hope , that someday, the lapse of twelve years will look small, that the memories we build will be so grand that we’ll laugh at them over coffee.

As for my Dad, well he has yet to be mentioned.

I’ve heard from the girls and have gotten a message from their mom, a wonderfully supportive person that I have always respected dearly, but yet I haven’t heard mention of my Dad.

I wonder if they have the same odd relationship with him as I do. I hope not. I hope that what ever caused me to shy away from my father didn’t do the same for my sisters.

My girlfriend asked if I found out that my father spoiled the girls rotten if I would be upset. I told her no. Because I always thought of my father as a wonderful man, despite his flaws, because of the way he treated his wife and my sisters.
This feeling has been the one thing that has made me believe that someday I would have a relationship again with my dad.

Everyone who knows me will say that I like to turn everything into a joke. My closest friends have probably heard me make light of my feelings many times. But this is one time that I’m not going to do that.

I may casually remark how fucking odd October has been. But you won’t hear me making jokes. This is for real. This is my life. And I’m trying to learn to share.