1:13 p.m. - 2005-05-09
Bitter Family Rant
How was Mother's Day, you ask? I have come to the conclusion based on yesterday that families are 21st Century tar pits that suck the life out of all in their path, leaving only the dry fossilated bones of rudimentary hopes and unsupported dreams, particularly those of their unsuspecting young. And there lies the rub. Why are the young so damn unsuspecting? It is not like this is the first time any of this has happened. Did I not want to be a ballerina? An artist? A writer? I was told that these are hobbies and not livelihoods. Too competitive (the underlying message being that I could not possibly compete). I want to live where? Hawaii? That's where you go for vacation, not to live. Everyone knows that everyone in Hawaii is a tourist. A pervasive disbelief in me lies at the core. There is very little I have ever really wanted (no doubt a major part of the problem). For one thing, I was given what they wanted me to have and my job was to grin and deliver copious thank you's, whatever the size, color or taste. Doesn't this album sound just like the Everly Brothers? No, no actually it doesn't. I mean, yeah ... amazing! I am constantly reminded that I was given everything and, on a certain level, that is undeniably true. But it was everything that someone else wanted me to have. I didn't even dare to want. I still don't. I am becoming more like a cockroach every day. Adapting to the environment. Yes, I suppose that defines a real survivor, but at what cost? Have you seen the film "Boxing Helena"? Really sick, but I identify. Literally, parts of her were amputated in order to fit in the box that her 'lover' wanted to contain her in. How is it that all of this has happened? I feel like a computer that has been programmed to crash. So what do I do? I become a caregiver. A lifer. Moving back "home" to care for my mother. Stuck in a corner room like a piece of furniture that doesn't quite fit the decor but that might come in handy someday. A wonderful friend told me that I am Bombay Co. and they just don't know how to interpret an object d'art (no discernable function - what the hell good is it? Oh, but maybe I can hang it over that grease spot on the wall. We'll see). I am not only a second class citizen in my family ... I am an illegal alien. My mail is daily scrutinized and I am ridiculed for supporting charities, basically told that I'm a naive fool who's being taken in by every conniving orphan on the planet. As you can tell, I am beside myself (which is an interesting perspective and quite a relief for the moment). I should have listened more carefully to Mick Jagger. All this time, I thought he was saying, "I can't get no satisfaction". But, see, my English major friend reminded me that he is indeed skillfully using the double negative. See, I can't get NO = I CAN get. Maybe it is really not too late to go to Itchycoo Park! Maybe you CAN be twenty on Sugar Mountain! Maybe parties ARE meant to last! Maybe love IS all you need! On the other hand, maybe I am an undiagnosed Bipolar. More to be revealed.
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