telephone

I hate the phone. I've never thought of myself as being able to express myself well verbally. I can write, and text, and instant message, only because it gives me plenty of opportunity to gather my thoughts, and carefully choose the right words to use in order to express the appropriate sentiment. I also like that i don't have to respond to the other's statement if i don't want to.

So i avoid my phone like plague. Unfortunately, it never takes long enough for someone to leave me the fatal message (or for me to check the fatal message that was left 2 weeks and 19 messages ago)...that says: 'call me and let me know that you're not dead.' the words usually ring of frustration and sarcastic concern. Sorry... y'all know the deal. You wanna contact me... learn to text.

My mother called me back sunday. Three times. I answered the third call. She was surprisingly compassionate and understanding of my situation... didn't nag me too much... gave me a little bit of motherly advice. I suppose if i can't visit or buy a card on mother's day, at least i can take the occasional call.

movin on...

i'm dumb... because when i don't know quite what to do... i don't do anything. like when i hear a dog barking ferociously and i don't know where it's coming from...my crippling phobia of canines causes me to freeze. as if the dogs vision is only triggered by motion, and my standing perfectly still is the only thing that will keep me safe.

well in this case, i didn't know how to deal with my mother's day faux pas, so i did nothing. i guess i just felt that if i sent a late card, she would've thrown it in my face because it was late.
if i sent an extravagant bouquet, she would've thrown it in my face that i needed to send an extravagant bouquet since i didn't do jack for mother's day. and she was so short with me on the actual day when i tried to talk to her, that i assumed she wasn't really trying to hear my voice this week. or if she was, she was really only just waiting for the opportunity to tell me what a screw up i am. i know i'm a damn screw up! i don't need the confirmation...

so now it's officially too late because she sent me an email expressing her disappointment. oh well... i'll just roll with how we do... move on like it didn't happen, and deal with the surreptitious remarks about my character or lack thereof. whatever. i'm still her favorite.

mother's day... so to speak

So i might be the worst daughter ever.

Not that it's an excuse but last week had been an insanely hectic one in which i got far less sleep than any non-insomniac human should ever get if they're not a college student or in med school. I might have been okay if it weren't for the tons of obligations that i had to fulfill. Despite all of that, i was still ready to make the long trek to my mom's house to celebrate mother's day.

she called saturday to let me know that the family was planning on an early brunch. I had an obligation at church, so i told her that i wouldn't be able to make it until later. She suggested that it would be a big hassle for me to have to come all the way down there, only to have to return a few hours later. She however finished with a promise to call later to confirm what was actually going to happen.

When i arrived home from church on sunday, i passed out on the couch with the complete expectation that by 2 or so, i would receive a call informing me whether or not i was expected.
Imagine my surprise when at 4 something-ish, she calls and asks where i am. In my just-startled-awake-from-a-world-numbing-sleep fog, i responded,

'.......what?... umm. What?'

see, i couldn't understand why she would ask me where i was, as if we had definitively agreed that i was supposed to have come down already... and she couldn't understand my post-sleep gibberish. She says, with guilt-trip soup soaking every word,

'i guess you're not coming then.'

honestly... i really didn't want to... my appetite for sleep had yet to be satiated, and it was raining... and i had no gas in my car... and my tires are bald. It was mother's day though... so i was willing to go regardless. I told her several times that i would come. Unfortunately, that didn't exactly come through in my tone, my sympathy buffers having been broken down by sleepy delirium.

I don't remember much after that, except that i fell back asleep until 6ish, when my mom called me again and hastily reminded me to call my grandmothers. I had a nice conversation with my fathers mom and was old-school dissed by my mom's mom, the whole ordeal being confirmed afterwards on the phone, by my little cousin who had stopped by to visit her.

'well, i just got yelled at.', said i...
'yeeeaaah, you did... goddamn!'...

well thas what he would've said if grandma wasn't right there.

Well now i don't know what to do. It was really a misunderstanding. I maybe would've been more sensitive if i hadn't just awaken from a comatose state, but now mother's day is over, and she hasn't seen me... or really spoken with me. I guess i'll have to buy a sweeeeet gift and somehow find the sappiest card (maybe on sale since it's after mother's day!) and go visit next week. Maybe i'll take a really long nap before i go.

deficit

I often wonder about the overuse of medication in today's society... especially with children. I mean, do we medicate overactive children because we don't want to deal with behaviors? Maybe they reach that point because of lack of discipline or conversely, lack of tolerance for how a child is supposed to act. Like... is there an actual physiological explanation behind the diagnosis of a.d.d? Ooh i should look that up right now!... no wait... focus... what was i saying? Oh yeah... i think i have add.

I've looked over the criteria that doctors give parents and teachers to determine whether a child has a.d.d. And i have to admit that very few of the criteria described me. I was never the type to torture animals or threaten people with stuff. I am, however, insanely disorganized. I know you're probably thinking that some people are just born neat freaks and others just aren't... but you take a look at my room and try to tell me that something isn't wrong.


This is the dilemma,

what i see when i look at my room: the reflection of the state of my mind; a place where everything is readily available and out in the open

what you see: an anomaly; how could hurricane katrina have hit new orleans then, without damaging anything in between, become completely localized within one room of one house several states away?


I don't know what to do with the big picture. It goes beyond lack of experience for i doubt this is a problem that could be cured with simple practice. When i approach general situations, it's not that i can't decide which route to take... it's that everything disappears from my mind; not just potential strategies for a grand overhaul, but everything. I end up thinking about colors, or spinach, or how i should start a blog or something. I can only handle little details, which might explain why in the midst of my disastrous room, all my clothes that are put away, are neatly folded in a particular and identical way, and arranged according to color on bookshelves.


What i see: order and happiness.

What you see: my insanity.

a.d.d.? Maybe not. They say the problem with a.d.d. is paying attention to too much; taking everything in at once and then not knowing how to break it down such that normal function is possible. oh well. gotta clean my room. or maybe i'll make some earrings... or go to atlanta.