Distraction

The thing about being blessed with an exceptional self-awareness is it's usually accompanied by a generous dollop of self-loathing.

This morning was one of those. I woke up to an e-mail from my brother and since I wasn't feeling particularly motivated this morning, I delayed in posting it to my blog.

Later on in the morning, my mother demanded that I post it so that she could print it out and take it to my grandparents' house. I was in the middle of a project when she asked, and I asked if it was really necessary. Of course, this provoked a rather unpleasant response.

My way of dealing with my brother's absence is considerably different from my mother's, and that's been causing problems. Everything dealing with my brother has a sense of urgency for her. We're preparing our first care package for Andrew, and my mother wanted it out on Friday. She isn't pleased that it's still sitting on our kitchen table.

My brother's first line of today's e-mail was "So in honor of my brother and all he's doing to keep himself busy(yet playing it off as if he's trying to help me out)," and that illustrates the main difference between myself and my mother. My brother's right. The blog, the books, everything I do is simply cosmetic. I know it doesn't mean anything, practically, to my brother in Iraq. It's simply cosmetic. I'm not doing it for me, or my brother, but for friends and family. If I had an insatiable need to do something that mattered for my brother, I'd go mad. Because I can't. Nothing I do here will protect him. Nothing I do here will have but the most fleeting influence on his morale when mortars disrupt his sleep and bullets whistle past his ears.

My mother has that insatiable need. And that's why everything feels so urgent for her. The care packages must get out yesterday, because Andrew needs them. I'm sure he'll enjoy them, love them. But they're just distractions from what's really going on. I think the difference between myself and my mother is that I know that at pack of gum isn't going to protect him. She seems to think otherwise.