black sheep

everyone has that one member of his or her extended family who is constantly messing shit up. commonly referred to as the black sheep or the bad seed, this is the relative with the longest criminal record, the one who has occasionally fallen prey to pyramid schemes, drug abuse, bad debts, and general irresponsibility. he or she is always on the outs with one or all of the rest of the family, the bane on their existence, responsible for all of their appearances in small claims court after having recently stolen/borrowed/lost money for/on another ridiculously unsound investment.

this person comes in varying degrees, and some are far worse than others, but i’ve always had a small shred of sympathy toward uncle paul, who fills this role in my family. maybe it's because i've always been perplexed by how he became who he is, or maybe it’s because i sometimes feel precariously close to actually being him. although i’ve never gone to jail clad only in my underpants, or called any of my uncles “bitch” while destroying their property, it seems that in some distantly connected fashion, we are of a similar stripe. both our lives lack definition; i don’t really have a discernable career path and i’m absolutely useless with money. the credit bureaus have my name on a watch list that activates the black helicopters whenever i come within ten feet of one of those slide-your-card scanners. my sister, a biologist/chef/general macguyver-type, is light years away from this sort of ambiguity. she would have to fall off the bus and get run over by it to even approach the same highway that uncle paul and i call home.

therefore, i am left to wonder if i am only a few ill-placed drinks away from spray painting profanities on the wall of my brother’s rental property or dumping paint all over the inside of my mom’s garage in an angst filled rage. granted, i was in the cheap seats for all the juicy stuff that went on with uncle paul in my youth, but now that i’m trying to figure out what the hell i’m supposed to do with myself, i can, in an alternative universe sort of way, see where he was coming from all those years ago. and while i’m pretty sure i don’t share his methods, i certainly share his gene pool.

perhaps uncle paul didn’t think he would be that person either. this seems like the sort of thing that sneaks up on you, once you’ve assumed the role of the black sheep. despite the fact that i have yet to exhibit any volatile behavior, it’s disconcerting to think that i might be at risk of becoming the person who cultivates a sense of forboding in the guests at holiday gatherings, as they uneasily await my arrival. that someday i might find myself rambling through the front door of a relative’s house with my current boyfriend, who is in a work release program, and my kid from three boyfriends ago and then start shit with my sister for looking at my man in a manner i find demeaning and have a shouting match at the wet bar while making myself my sixth cocktail in a half an hour, which i will promptly smash, in order to use the broken glass as a weapon as i back out of the house with my posse, screaming slurred profanities at my horrified family members, who watch me go and breathe a sigh of relief when my car finally peals out of the driveway. good times!

like i said, i am not prone to particularly erratic behavior at present, unless you consider wearing legwarmers and spending the majority of my income on compact discs and late fees at the public library erratic, and if you do, fair enough. but that doesn’t mean i’m out of the woods. if anything, i’m only just now entering the danger zone. it’s all well and good at present, but looking ahead to the future, i’m just not that excited about all that time spent in court.