Tuesday, September 30, 2008
A quiet house
No freakish muttering, no heavy footsteps, no crazy small talk. My house is again mine. Time to get my life back to its regularly scheduled broadcast. Time to shake the depression that's creeping up on me and get some writing and editing done. I'm currently cleaning the house from top to bottom, rather obsessively I suppose. It's something I have to do for myself - I'm not a "smudger", but a good obsessive house cleaning clears the air and makes me feel I'm in charge of my house and destiny. I've got my favorite music playing, little Willow is attacking my broom, and I'm starting to feel a little less under siege.
Friday, September 05, 2008
I am so sick of this freak show. I finish my book, try to think of something else to do - but with Miss Congeniality sitting on the couch there's nothing appealing. So I put on some music on my ipod - and B. decides he wants to bring the guitar into the living room and "practice." He's trying to learn guitar, you see, and seems to think it is a treat for the rest of us to hear his "efforts." I think he's trying to be his mother's little prodigy again - and it is sickly, sadly working. So I withstand it for a half hour - did I mention he is in the middle of the fucking living room?!? I can't even hide from it in the bedroom, which is right next door. Then he tries to show me that someday these terrible, cut off strummings will be a song and I tell him it'll be a couple more years of practice. He gets a little irritated and I tell him he can always practice downstairs. Or outside like I've been doing with my native American flute.
His mom chimes up "Well I think it sounds really good. I mean, really, it's good. "
Now this was after she waited to get herself dinner until he came home so she could pick out and warm up the leftovers for him to eat. And she gave him a napkin - one of her obsessions, she holds a napkin in her hand, hovering until he needs it, then hands it to him. Then she takes his plate, washes it off and puts in the dishwasher for him. And, when he went downstairs and got his laundry she was all disappointed because "she really wanted to fold it for him."
Remember, this is the woman who can't stir herself to help me clean, who would never help me with my dishes, and half the time can't stir herself to set the table. Sometimes I feel like I don't even exist for her - not as a real person. I'm like an obstacle in her path to her son - an inconveniently placed chair that she keeps having to walk around. She is most happy when she is being "mom" and pretending that Brian is ten again. When he's not around, or when he's busy with something else, she lives in a half-life - almost a dream state. What do you do for a woman like that - with a relationship like that? It embarrasses her own son, but he's as mystified as the rest of us what to do. He just tries to make her happy while she is here and goes along with it. Hence the freak show going on in my living room. Sigh. September 28th can't come soon enough.
His mom chimes up "Well I think it sounds really good. I mean, really, it's good. "
Now this was after she waited to get herself dinner until he came home so she could pick out and warm up the leftovers for him to eat. And she gave him a napkin - one of her obsessions, she holds a napkin in her hand, hovering until he needs it, then hands it to him. Then she takes his plate, washes it off and puts in the dishwasher for him. And, when he went downstairs and got his laundry she was all disappointed because "she really wanted to fold it for him."
Remember, this is the woman who can't stir herself to help me clean, who would never help me with my dishes, and half the time can't stir herself to set the table. Sometimes I feel like I don't even exist for her - not as a real person. I'm like an obstacle in her path to her son - an inconveniently placed chair that she keeps having to walk around. She is most happy when she is being "mom" and pretending that Brian is ten again. When he's not around, or when he's busy with something else, she lives in a half-life - almost a dream state. What do you do for a woman like that - with a relationship like that? It embarrasses her own son, but he's as mystified as the rest of us what to do. He just tries to make her happy while she is here and goes along with it. Hence the freak show going on in my living room. Sigh. September 28th can't come soon enough.
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