Christmas is here, and with it comes another year of realizing the simultaneously dynamic and consistent nature of family. It is only Christmas Eve and yet I've already noticed as many significant changes as there are reassuring constants.

We arrived Saturday and started our visits at my Uncle Frank's house. Saturday night was the whatever-th Annual McCarthy Christmas, in which I partake despite the fact that my last name is Fahey. Everyone was in familiar spirits...not to mention consuming familiar spirits, as drinking is an inevitable part of McCarthy Christmas and frankly makes everyone get along a little better. The big change this year was that my cousin and I, fresh off of our first college semester were allowed to drink if we wanted to, as we are considered adults by the family. For my part, I opted against it because A) I still am not much of a drinker and B) even if I was, I wouldn't be comfortable drinking with family for a variety of reasons. Anyhow, my Uncle Don was entertaining, my Uncle Kevin quick-witted, my Uncle Bob...insightful, perhaps, and my Uncle Frank jovial, which is the one word that completely defines him during Christmas in my mind. The house is beautifully decorated, with a large tree, decorations aplenty and neverending amounts of food.

I spent a great deal of the night with the cousins downstairs, playing video games and goofing around, but I also managed to work in a lot of voluntary surface time with the adults, which is always a lot of fun. Whether recounting the old days of my mother and uncles in their little house in Darby, or just spouting opinions on everything under the sun, my family is a riot just to hear.

The next day, we made our way over Uncle Kevin's and spent a few days bumming around there. Then Tuesday began with a trip to see my grandmother at her nursing home, which was surprisingly productive as she was more alert than I've seen her in a long time and looked at my mother with a genuine recognition that I didn't think her eyes were capable of anymore. Nonetheless, I still felt my characteristic stoicism towards the whole situation. I can't feel pain for a person that died for me long ago. I hate saying that, but it's true. I just want her suffering to end by whatever natural means that might entail.

That night, we made it back to Voorhees, New Jersey and the holiday cheer of Uncle Frank's. As Steve was recovering from an all night LAN party, Erin was sick with the flu, and the adults made plans for the evening, I spent the night reading Master and Commander in the family room with the occasional breaks to pet Shamrock, the golden retriever and princess of the house. It was quiet, relaxing and endlessly soothing to have right in the middle of the constant flow of family events. Upon the return of the elders, I retreated to the basement, spent some time IMing the world and listening to Johnny Depp Commentary for Pirates, and then drifted off to sleep.

Today, I saw Return of the King again. Still phenomenal and breathtaking. I honestly choked back tears at "'You bow to no one." Some of the aspects of this particular movie are moving in ways that even the first two movies couldn't have prepared me for. Hats off to that living hobbit, Peter Jackson. We then went to church, which was nice in spite of the pointless homily and the singer who sounded like the voice of Aladdin in "A Whole New World." After a relaxing Christmas Eve replete with a delectable Italian dinner, I find myself here, in the basement again, pondering a few things I've learned thus far in the trip.

The main thing is, my mother and I seemed to have switched places. I feel like I'm the one reprimanding her all the time now for things I see as inconsiderate, dangerous, or otherwise unthinking. To be sure, my mother has becoming a lot more endearing to be around since the college shift as the pressure's off now, so it seems the change might be in me. Either way, I find myself taking a more controlling or perhaps just a less acquiescent role in the dynamic. For instance, my mom is baking cookies, pulls a sheet out of the oven, which slips, so she goes to catch it with her unmitted hand and burns her fingers. I run into the kitchen and tell her to run it under cold water. She then proceeds to try and get the sheet back on the oven rack, which caused me to say, in a tone of voice that surprised both of us, "Mom, stop messing with the cookies and take care of your hand!" I guess it seems like nothing, as do all the little instances themselves, but as a whole, it makes me wonder. I also find myself saying things like "Keep your hands on the wheel, I'll hold your drink, " and "I've got the bags, you get inside. You guys need to get on your way to dinner." The more I write these, the less my idea makes any sense. Something has clearly changed, however, as Erin pointed out that I am more "sarcastic"' now when mom tells me to do things. I guess I finally crossed some line between being obedient and being tired of getting spoken to as if I am incapable of rationality. We're in church and mom gives me money to put in the collection basket five minutes before it comes around. So I pocket it until then because I don't want to be standing there with a five in my hand. The next thing I know, she turns to me and says, "Wait, what are you doing? Did you put it in already?" Now the basket is two rows ahead, something she clearly knows as evidenced byt he next statement, "Why'd you put it in your pocket?" I respond with, "I didn't feel like holding it when the basket is nowhere near us." This incident is brought up by mom when Erin suggests the theory of Ian's rising sarcasm. Granted, I believe the whole conversation was in jest, but all the same, I don't want my mom to feel any disrespect, but I also feel that I'm just responding with logic, which is seen as sarcastic impertinence. Weird.

Well, all I know is that it is now officially Christmas, and within the next twelve hours, I will be getting some fun new things to entertain myself with, including a predictable pile of DVDs (WOOHOO!). I hope tomorrow is once again relaxing, comfortable and fun. I also look forward to seeing all of my friends upon my return, and I hope the holidays find them all well.

Well, I’ve been home for the better part of a week now and I’ve settled past the initial contemplative feelings into a daily routine of ennui. Thus, I decided I need to do something to pass the time, so why not reflect just a bit more?

One thing I’ve noticed about being back with my friends is that I cannot shake the feeling that someone’s missing. Now, I know that we haven’t had a full assemblage of the group yet, but I have this nagging intuition that even if we were to pull together every last member of the A kids, it would feel like someone wasn’t there. I can’t explain why or where this comes from, but I got that feeling after seeing almost everyone at one point or another. Maybe I’m wrong and a total group get-together will feel complete, but I somehow doubt it. It’s not like it’s a terrible thing, but more like I have stronger individual ties these days. Well, to make things abundantly clear, it must be assured that I have loved seeing each and every person again recently and I hope they feel the same way.

What else is there? My visits to school have been fairly decent. I finally feel no attachment to the school itself. The halls and rooms hold nothing for me but the teachers with whom I still correspond. I just realized that I didn’t even give the F hall a second glance the two times I passed it. I also learned how specific teachers react to my visits. They seemed to be related to their roles as teachers for me. Typical of me to analyse like this, but here goes.

Friedman is almost a form letter person to visit. I think he’s a brilliant teacher and I attribute my English passions to his class; however, when one goes to visit him, it warms for a bit, but then you get the feeling that you just need to leave. I think this is because Friedman’s class is something you need at one point in your life. He is meant to guide you on a specific portion of your journey and then he turns from you and walks back to guide the next batch. Granted, he shares pieces of his past classes with his current ones, but he feels like Milton, my time for him has passed.

Mrs. Crockett is always a catch-up session. It always seems like I run through my life with her, ask about her classes and wrap up. It’s nice and reliable and she’s one of the nicest people at Milton, especially with her enthusiastic desire to hear about our college experiences. Even when I specifically go to her room to say hello, the conversation seems like on you have with someone you run into in the mall. I can’t exactly figure out where I’m going with the connotations this has with her teaching. Right.

Jones is a friend. I’ve come to realize that now, that Mr. Jones is a good friend. Sterling mused on this in the back of Jones’s pickup while setting up for graduation. He said that the difference between Friedman and Jones was the difference between a mentor and a friend. I did catch up with Jones when I first went back, but otherwise he carries that same feeling of picking up where we left off that all of my closest friends and I have. I never much cared for the content of his precal class and Lord knows I probably LOST brain cells in his tech class, but it was never really about the class. He acknowledged that to me once, that he didn’t think he ever taught me much about math. There’s truth to that, but he taught me something.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

I'm home. It feels really bizarre to be back in Alpharetta. I'm trying to nail the feeling, but it's elusive. Why do I feel simultaneously like a stranger and like I belong here? It's not the people, or at least not yet. I picked up with the guys at Tech just fine last night and we had a great time, right from where we left off. The silent times are what caused me confusion and contemplation. I'd be looking out the window as we coursed up 400, sped down North Point, pulled in to Steak and Shake, and I'd feel lost. It's similar to how I felt when everyone was already at school and I hadn't left yet, as if the fact that my friends weren't home reduced my claim to Alpharetta as a whole. But what's more is the feeling that if my friends were home, places still wouldn't be the same. Someone on a blog mentioned that we college students and Alpharetta have grown separate to one another. Somehow, I think it'd be closer to say that Alpharetta hasn't changed much at all. Change is part of Alpharetta, has been for years now. There were plenty of times when I'd gone to a part of the town I hadn't been to in a while and it looked different, but it was still home. I think Alpharetta's stayed the same, but that I've changed too much. Too much for what? I don't know. Too much to look out of the window of our office and feel like it was any other day. Too much to just ignore and get too work on the ten million things I must do this weekend. I just wish I could feel like I fit again. I want to take Alpharetta for granted again, because that's definitely a part of what I feel. I look out the window and I think, "God, it's beautiful here, so much more beautiful than almost any day in Washington since I've been there." I don't mean to downplay Georgetown or my friends there, but what I wouldn't give to go downstairs, lay down on the couch in my living room, fall asleep, and wake up in last year. It's not about high school this time. That's another thing and I think when I go back to Milton monday, that will be a whole 'nother entry. This is about home, and the role Alpharetta played in it that I never realized. I miss this place. I miss it so much I could spend forever lying in every field, leaning on every tree, walking every sidewalk and road. I never realized how much it meant to me.

In the spirit of Sterling I have decided to try and figure what sort of voices are vying for control of my mind. So here we go.

Ian (6th grade): Like Sterling, I too have a persona that just wants acceptance and attention. Unfortunately, if Sterling's little guy is a mega-ton warhead, mine would have to be a whole planet. This is the person that needs a little too much to be noticed and appreciated. He comes out less and less in conversations these days, but still makes an appearance whenever I fail at something trivial....such as bowling.

Will: named for Will Hunting. This is where the obsession with learning comes from. Not a boy genius, but having that same thirst for knowledge. Will is the reason I'm at Georgetown, yet he's also the guiding force behind my skipping. His academia only goes as far as his interest in the subject. Will is the one who gets lost in math class and is surprised when class is over. Will also desires safety. Will is threatened by going outside of his comfort zone and avoids confrontation, content to stick to what he knows he can do well.

The Blade: The name for the incredibly Romantic (note the capital R) film-influenced version of me. This same mind can entertain a fantastically vivid and incredible daydream of being a pirate one minute, and then can be in the dining hall picturing how he could drop his tray and kick it forward into a random passerby and then erupt into a huge martial arts brawl. This is the dreamer in me, the one who feels dissatisfied with the dirth of mettle-testing situations in today's world, and who will still exist even when all of my realistic aspirations are met. The upside of this character is that he is the protector of my ideals and morals. Chivalry, Dependability, and everything along those lines flows from this idealistic version of myself.

Mr. H: That guy who comes out when I am extremely tired and comfortable with the person I'm chilling with. The rationality stands back and he takes over. I don't think he means to be an asshole, because I don't think any part of me likes being an asshole, but he just manages to hurt people. Or rather, one of the more rational personas has to hurt people after Mr. H is done. Sadly, this was the first discernible persona to come to mind.

Now, I don't mean to say that at any given moment, one and only one of these mental states exists, but these are the components to Ian. My actions and thoughts are usually some sort of appeal to one of these. I couldn't think of an evil component of myself. Will is the closest with his tendency towards indifference and consistency. So yeah, any input is appreciated.