it's been so long
Last week was a short week. Tuesday was so uneventful in the office that I didn't even have anything to write to you about. I left on Wednesday for the Thanksgiving with the big guy.
We did the regular stuff, like cooked far too much food and played board games. As most holidays go, my mother was manic and panicky and rushed through the house talking a mile a minute. Her cat is skinny and neurotic like her. Blacky has only one ear and cries constantly. She is so thin you can see her ribs and the ridges of her spine, just like my mother. Except the cat has a thyroid problem and cries, we believe, because she's blind.
In the morning, I hear my mother stumble down the stairs with stomping feet slam the door to the microwave to heat up last night's coffee, shuffle her slippers to the toaster to light her cigarette, the microwave goes 'ding' and you hear the door click open and slam again, and as she sits down hard on the couch leaning forward, you hear the toaster 'pop' thinking it was toasting bread all along. During all of this incredible symphony, the cat is mewing. Blacky has a shrill loud cry that doesn't start until she hears my mother stumble down for the coffee and smoke. "Shut up." my mother says "shut up shut up shut up." she repeats until she can't stand it anymore and screams.
This happens daily. We were all just glad she doesn't sleep on the couch anymore.
My mother however, is an excellent hostess, the kind of woman that feeds you too much and tells you stories that make your sides hurt from laughter. She was so pushy about how I should treat the big guy as a guest for the holiday. Get this for him, get that for him, you should be making him breakfast. I'd roll my eyes and giggle with Jman while I played hostess too.
But so you understand my mother: when he left she screamed at me said that she was appalled at how I ran around making him comfortable and that I looked pathetic waiting on him hand and foot. She said that I was so desperate to have a man in my life that I'd do anything for him. It was hurtful and mean and obviously, totally insane. I saw red and called her a cunt. I was devastated with myself that I couldn't get through one holiday without some sort of brutal emotion surfacing. It all feels so intolerable. Maybe I'm angry that she said something negative about me, or my beau, but, I think it goes far beyond that where I'm actually mad at her for being crazy and acting crazy. I'm mad at not being able to trust what will happen next and always ending up in the same spot. I'm mad at myself for being angry at her for acting the way she always has, I feel like a terrible daughter... And, in a flicker, as always, it's over, and she buys me a purse to match my jacket and tells me a story about how I was a perfect baby.
I know, it's not logical. My life at home is not logical. She's not logical, but, in so many senses she's lovely, too. Can you admire and respect and be devoted to someone who you believe is quite possibly very insane? Well, I mean, I know you can, because I am. But I think there is some severe detriment that I'm suffering because of this incredible duality in someone I care so much about.
My mother was a nurse back when they wore caps. She volunteers in the church and sits with the holy Eucharist for a couple hours a week. She sets the phone to ring to wake her up for work with a message in her own voice "This is your wake up call, get out of bed.Get up. Get up." She's sad and distracted a lot and says things just loud enough for you to hear "Some days you eat the bear; some days the bear eats you." She has soft hands and a warm smile. Strangers in the bank or the parking lot of the grocery store love to tell her their problems and my mother loves to listen and rub their shoulder or hold them as they cry. She raised four children on her own. She has never dated after my father told her that he never loved her. She values things like clean hands and things in tiny boxes or miniature bottles. She likes small servings that don't make her feel overwhelmed and never drinks. She can see right through you and see exactly where you are hiding your pain. She talks a lot and explains everything so you can understand. She's afraid of dying alone and no one finding her for days. She'll make you eat a banana if they are going to go bad soon. She repeats herself and begins again. She never made me have a bedtime and doesn't keep one herself.
My friend, Russell calls my mother eccentric instead of absolutely nuts. I like this.
_________________________________________________
On Friday
I saw Billy. One of my good friends when I was in tenth grade. He drunkenly introduced me to everyone at the bar as 'the one that got away.' He wallowed in his beer at some point telling me how hard it was 7 years ago and that his girlfriend doesn't like me because she's jealous. I haven't ever met her and hadn't seen Bill in 3 years. "I can tell you all of this now." he said. And somehow it wasn't as awkward as it should have been.
I'm always amazed how he makes friends everywhere he goes. Everyone at the bar knew him. It was a Friday's kind of place, and still, everyone came up to greet me because I was a friend of Bill's. They gave him high-fives.
This was odd to me, mostly because Billy doesn't have hands at all. He has arms that reach to where our elbows do and one leg. It all disappears after a while and it was odd, because I haven't seen him in so long, I guess, I was fascinated with it again. Forgetting how it felt to forget about it. He was around a crowd of friends that without thinking, put beers between his grip confident that he was capable of anything. And he is.
On Saturday
I went to the Slotracer show on South Street. Two of my brothers came out and their each with their spouse or future spouse. They really seemed to enjoy it. The bar was this place called Abilines which was kind of a neat space. A bar with a marquee and their name in lights. But the South Street crowd is really different than what they deal with in Baltimore. They are a bunch of really different people that are all there to drink and hang out, not necessarily to listen to music. It was really crowded and loud but by the end of their set they totally won everyone over. Pretty powerful stuff we're dealing with, here.
I left the show early to get back to Jeanne's house for the party. Brian was past out drunk by the time we got there. There were pink Christmas lights up and a some of my good friends from many a winter break, stuck at home from college. There were big PBRs, warm bellies and good conversation made me miss that little bunch and those times. Millie came with me, who dates the drummer from the band, at some point, some drunk guy swung his arm around her and asked her how she was doing.
We left by two and made the long trek home to Baltimore. It ended up being a terribly long and laborious trip. The roads were so rainy I had to guess where the lines were in the road. Millie turned on a terrible radio station and promptly fell asleep. I couldn't take my hands off the wheel to change it. The whole drive home I thought that we might die. I drove with my blinkers on for at least half of the trip.
We had to wait for the boys when we finally arrived in Ellicott city at the warehouse where they practice. I was getting really nervous thinking about all of them driving in that white van with no seats. I thought about Buddy Holly and tragedy. But everyone made it safely. We all got home by 6am. I think I might treasure sleep far more than I would ever like to be in a band, or follow one around.
On Sunday
I drank some beers with Sarah and Russell and later watched Lisa Picard is famous, which I don't think I would necessarily recommend, but I'd probably reference the annoying characters in it, later. I set out some pretty new clothes to wear to work today and was too anxious about going back to work to get good sleep.
After four days of reeling adventure, why do we have to come back here?
Last week was a short week. Tuesday was so uneventful in the office that I didn't even have anything to write to you about. I left on Wednesday for the Thanksgiving with the big guy.
We did the regular stuff, like cooked far too much food and played board games. As most holidays go, my mother was manic and panicky and rushed through the house talking a mile a minute. Her cat is skinny and neurotic like her. Blacky has only one ear and cries constantly. She is so thin you can see her ribs and the ridges of her spine, just like my mother. Except the cat has a thyroid problem and cries, we believe, because she's blind.
In the morning, I hear my mother stumble down the stairs with stomping feet slam the door to the microwave to heat up last night's coffee, shuffle her slippers to the toaster to light her cigarette, the microwave goes 'ding' and you hear the door click open and slam again, and as she sits down hard on the couch leaning forward, you hear the toaster 'pop' thinking it was toasting bread all along. During all of this incredible symphony, the cat is mewing. Blacky has a shrill loud cry that doesn't start until she hears my mother stumble down for the coffee and smoke. "Shut up." my mother says "shut up shut up shut up." she repeats until she can't stand it anymore and screams.
This happens daily. We were all just glad she doesn't sleep on the couch anymore.
My mother however, is an excellent hostess, the kind of woman that feeds you too much and tells you stories that make your sides hurt from laughter. She was so pushy about how I should treat the big guy as a guest for the holiday. Get this for him, get that for him, you should be making him breakfast. I'd roll my eyes and giggle with Jman while I played hostess too.
But so you understand my mother: when he left she screamed at me said that she was appalled at how I ran around making him comfortable and that I looked pathetic waiting on him hand and foot. She said that I was so desperate to have a man in my life that I'd do anything for him. It was hurtful and mean and obviously, totally insane. I saw red and called her a cunt. I was devastated with myself that I couldn't get through one holiday without some sort of brutal emotion surfacing. It all feels so intolerable. Maybe I'm angry that she said something negative about me, or my beau, but, I think it goes far beyond that where I'm actually mad at her for being crazy and acting crazy. I'm mad at not being able to trust what will happen next and always ending up in the same spot. I'm mad at myself for being angry at her for acting the way she always has, I feel like a terrible daughter... And, in a flicker, as always, it's over, and she buys me a purse to match my jacket and tells me a story about how I was a perfect baby.
I know, it's not logical. My life at home is not logical. She's not logical, but, in so many senses she's lovely, too. Can you admire and respect and be devoted to someone who you believe is quite possibly very insane? Well, I mean, I know you can, because I am. But I think there is some severe detriment that I'm suffering because of this incredible duality in someone I care so much about.
My mother was a nurse back when they wore caps. She volunteers in the church and sits with the holy Eucharist for a couple hours a week. She sets the phone to ring to wake her up for work with a message in her own voice "This is your wake up call, get out of bed.Get up. Get up." She's sad and distracted a lot and says things just loud enough for you to hear "Some days you eat the bear; some days the bear eats you." She has soft hands and a warm smile. Strangers in the bank or the parking lot of the grocery store love to tell her their problems and my mother loves to listen and rub their shoulder or hold them as they cry. She raised four children on her own. She has never dated after my father told her that he never loved her. She values things like clean hands and things in tiny boxes or miniature bottles. She likes small servings that don't make her feel overwhelmed and never drinks. She can see right through you and see exactly where you are hiding your pain. She talks a lot and explains everything so you can understand. She's afraid of dying alone and no one finding her for days. She'll make you eat a banana if they are going to go bad soon. She repeats herself and begins again. She never made me have a bedtime and doesn't keep one herself.
My friend, Russell calls my mother eccentric instead of absolutely nuts. I like this.
_________________________________________________
On Friday
I saw Billy. One of my good friends when I was in tenth grade. He drunkenly introduced me to everyone at the bar as 'the one that got away.' He wallowed in his beer at some point telling me how hard it was 7 years ago and that his girlfriend doesn't like me because she's jealous. I haven't ever met her and hadn't seen Bill in 3 years. "I can tell you all of this now." he said. And somehow it wasn't as awkward as it should have been.
I'm always amazed how he makes friends everywhere he goes. Everyone at the bar knew him. It was a Friday's kind of place, and still, everyone came up to greet me because I was a friend of Bill's. They gave him high-fives.
This was odd to me, mostly because Billy doesn't have hands at all. He has arms that reach to where our elbows do and one leg. It all disappears after a while and it was odd, because I haven't seen him in so long, I guess, I was fascinated with it again. Forgetting how it felt to forget about it. He was around a crowd of friends that without thinking, put beers between his grip confident that he was capable of anything. And he is.
On Saturday
I went to the Slotracer show on South Street. Two of my brothers came out and their each with their spouse or future spouse. They really seemed to enjoy it. The bar was this place called Abilines which was kind of a neat space. A bar with a marquee and their name in lights. But the South Street crowd is really different than what they deal with in Baltimore. They are a bunch of really different people that are all there to drink and hang out, not necessarily to listen to music. It was really crowded and loud but by the end of their set they totally won everyone over. Pretty powerful stuff we're dealing with, here.
I left the show early to get back to Jeanne's house for the party. Brian was past out drunk by the time we got there. There were pink Christmas lights up and a some of my good friends from many a winter break, stuck at home from college. There were big PBRs, warm bellies and good conversation made me miss that little bunch and those times. Millie came with me, who dates the drummer from the band, at some point, some drunk guy swung his arm around her and asked her how she was doing.
We left by two and made the long trek home to Baltimore. It ended up being a terribly long and laborious trip. The roads were so rainy I had to guess where the lines were in the road. Millie turned on a terrible radio station and promptly fell asleep. I couldn't take my hands off the wheel to change it. The whole drive home I thought that we might die. I drove with my blinkers on for at least half of the trip.
We had to wait for the boys when we finally arrived in Ellicott city at the warehouse where they practice. I was getting really nervous thinking about all of them driving in that white van with no seats. I thought about Buddy Holly and tragedy. But everyone made it safely. We all got home by 6am. I think I might treasure sleep far more than I would ever like to be in a band, or follow one around.
On Sunday
I drank some beers with Sarah and Russell and later watched Lisa Picard is famous, which I don't think I would necessarily recommend, but I'd probably reference the annoying characters in it, later. I set out some pretty new clothes to wear to work today and was too anxious about going back to work to get good sleep.
After four days of reeling adventure, why do we have to come back here?
posted by j-e-s-s-i-c-a at 10:02 AM
2 Comments:
how did the future spouse treat you? was she over you telling her no?
DaB
Oh it was another one. I have three brothers. Two of them are engaged one of them is married. I didn't see the pair in question at all over the break, no one did. I think they're being shitheads. Maybe Christmas will be better because I'll come bearing presents.
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