Subcutaneous

I give myself nerdgasms for remembering biology terms. It's the little things ...

Anyway, it should be apparent right now that plenty of things get under my skin in a hot hurry. That skin is far thinner than it should be. I know. I'm working on it. But I don't think I'm very aware of just how thin other people's skins might be.

Here's the enigmatic punchline for all but one: I don't care if you agree with me or not. It's your life anyway and I'm certainly no one to tell you I know better. However, I know I was the conductor of my own little emotion-filled philharmonic who used all the same tactics to get back where I thought I wanted to be. So, at least in my case, finality was a must.

I hate to be the situational jerk since I do think there are absolutes in life, but we all want to think we've got the answer. I'm right and you're wrong. It's not that simple when you're talking about society and I tend to forget that a lot.

I want there to be something absolute to stick to because I get tired of the same things happening over and over. I get tired of people being how we all know people can be while forgetting that I haven't changed a bit. And maybe that's the crux of the problem. I'm frustrated that I can't figure out how to fix these interpersonal clusterfucks, but maybe I'm just frustrated I can't even figure out my own problems most of the time.

We don't need fixing. Ultimately, we need the bitch who won't realize she doesn't know what the hell she's talking about. We need the doormat. We need the sniveling little prick who stabs us in the back. We need the insecure, quiet one with the nervous laugh and we need the swaggering asshole who doesn't even realize how condescending he sounds.

To be frank, I hate when I feel like a problem is all about striking a balance. It's that nasty little running theme to my life that bores me to tears. Why couldn't it be something exciting like learning how to tap my inner strength or learning how to express compassion? Instead, it's got to be how to figure out how the hell not to go off the deep end all the damn time. It's far more interesting to launch myself toward one end of the spectrum and watch the fireworks than try to figure out where to stand so I can keep the least amount of sparks from flying.

I'm fascinated by the Pucks who wreak havoc, turn the tables and upset everything in their path. I would much rather be the fire than the salve and I hate not getting to.

Steady, girl ...

Parentology

I really need to pick Theogeo's brain about her nifty little add-on that shows her how people found her blog. I want to know if anyone searches on Google for "parentology" and ends up in my La La Land.

My mother came to visit me last week. She's gone now, and thankfully doesn't read this blog.

Parents are infuriating, aren't they? To them, you're this kid who never really grew out of that awkward phase in between adoring them and hating them. I think that's what they're most comfortable with, really. That's the point where they're ok with the jerk because they know you're human. It's also the point where you still think they're amazing for all that parental stuff.

At one point during my mother's visit, she looked at me and said one thing she'd really like to experience in her life is "seeing that twinkle back" in my eye.

Yeah, I'll get right on that ...

Her significant other is an intensely perceptive man, God bless him. He picked up right away on that slight eyebrow raise I ardently tried to suppress. "Well, she just got contacts, so you can't see it." I of course voiced my agreement right away. "Yeah, I really do think the slight blue tint cuts down on the glare ..."

Mom didn't bite. "No, I just want to see you be your happy self again."

Alright, back the truck up a second. This whole weekend, they've been drinking at least a bottle of wine between them at each dinner. That's not much for the boyfriend, but my mother is as much a lightweight as I. Also, not two hours earlier, she had been standing in my living room in my apartment while I was in my kitchen preparing their damn food deciding where I should put the couch that she just thought was the greatest and best and bought for me without asking. I would like to think it was just the wine talking like when I became increasingly emotive this time.

That whole week with my mother around left me scratching my head. Is it just a parent thing?

Maybe I should change the name of this blog to "I don't get it" because that seems to be a running theme. But really, I don't understand the parental mind. It's a completely different value set from mine. Different issues take on different significance for parents and the gravity of these issues grows exponentially. This whole "just be happy" thing is making me crazy at how ludicrous it is and the only conclusion I can get to is one I already knew: I don't ever want to be a parent.

My mother spent half the trip trying to act like her relationship with Mr. Perceptive was all daisies and demure conversation when I was around. She even messed up a bed she didn't sleep in so I wouldn't guess (well duh) that they weren't in separate rooms.

*Side note: There are 2 points to pulling this off that she completely missed.
1) If you always make the bed, then just make it look like you made the bed. I'm going to know you're trying to make it look like something if you always do the exact opposite.
2) If you do leave the sheets mussed, at least leave a head dent in the pillow. No one leaves the bed unmade but still fluffs the pillows.
I had to mention these because, well, it's kind of funny.

The only reason I mention that is because it's so goofy and ridiculous that I can't help but attribute it to this parental sense of responsibility for the delicate psyche of ones children. She's trying to make sure she doesn't shock me with normal human behavior because I see her as my mother, not some random chick on a getaway vacation with her boyfriend.

I could take issue with her and say it's really stupid posturing since she brought me up to observe what's really going on, stick to the truth and all that good parenting stuff. I could point out that she taught me to grow up and be a productive member of society. But none of that conversation would accomplish anything. No matter how parents hope and plan for the best with their children, it still seems they're not willing to admit that baby started drifting away as soon as he or she started walking in the first place.

I don't get how that could be sad to a parent since ... I wouldn't want to deal with dirty diapers and "spit up" in the first place let alone forever.

How could you not be happy or at least relieved that all your planning and training grew up to be self-sufficient and generally functional in a grim and messed up world?

I'm not really getting at the point I'm trying to make and I guess that's just as well.

Now where'd I leave my paci???