5 Days with my mother

My mother has left the building!

We have managed some kind of record, I think.

Longest time in each others company since I hit puberty and began to question EVERYTHING my mother told me.

We spent from midnight Friday to 4pm today in each others and ONLY each others company.

We survived.

Admittedly, we did drink too much wine on Monday night and things got kinda ugly.

In fact, Monday night was goddamned awful.

What happened was we drank three bottles of fine red wine between the two of us, and somehow I broke the aluminium seal keeping my sarcastic cynical skeptical opinions away from her sweet hippie hopeful earthy loving feelings about things.

This barrier is sacred, it makes it possible for the two of us to share the same space and time while having absolutely no worldview in common other than, rapists are bad, and children should be allowed to play in mud, and Italians are stupidly petite.

That is all we have in common really. Looking at us, we are so very alike, but it ends there.

I have to back down in our relationship and just keep my thoughts to myself. My mum of course having been here first and having taught me a good deal of what I know, has always spoken her mind to me. If I speak mine, we will fight.

So I bite my tongue unless it’s really important to me or unless….

Wine.

We had three bottles of wine and were sitting on my bed watching comedy which I thought was safe but then the comedy finished and oh no!

Somehow we are on the topic of astrology, and I am giving her my most fabulously clever disembowelment of astrology speech. It is a thing of beauty. She feebly sprinkles a few personal anecdotes in as proof against me. I swat them away like flies, unscientific flies.

“Anecdotal evidence… is not… evidence!” is my battle cry.

She is impressed.

She tells me, watery eyed from the wine, that I should be a scientist.

This enrages me, for some reason, mostly because I think she is right, but even more because I think, she doesn’t KNOW enough about science for her opinion her to count, although I want to take it as a compliment. But it pisses me off because I can’t even really take it to heart properly.

I start feeling a sense of wasting my beautiful brain on science as a mere hobby, amateurly skimming the surface of life’s great mysteries… when I could be lording it over people everywhere and really being important and making my family proud and going to classy parties and laughing at genius men’s jokes and being the only non-glasses wearing female at the Amazing meeting (shut up, it is a fantasy, I know it isn’t like that)

I could be somewhere having proper intense conversations with other clever people. I could be a contender, but I am not, I’m just an angry young woman who works in a shop like a plebeian and who had a lot of potential as a kid but at this stage, is so far out of touch with science and maths that will never hold aloft the nobel prize for physics and thank my mother for being so unashamedly open to new ideas and new age hippie bullshit, she drove me to seek only the truest of truths…

Anyway this is what I’m thinking about sitting on my bed, my cheeks flaring up with indignation, red wine, and the limitations of my vocabulary in this condition.

I want my mother to SEE the secret workings of the universe. I imagine, because I am horribly drunk, that I am one of the people who sees these things. I feel I am involved somehow with the matrix of inventors and thinkers in some theoretical greek university, all togas and crowns of laurel except modern, with like glass and steel pillars…

And all because I occasionaly look up why the sky is blue on how stuff works because I KEEP ON FORGETTING, and sometimes I will spend a few hours on wikipedia “arming myself with knowledge”. And because I investigate things before I believe them. But that’s it really.

It feels like this makes me practically a scientist. I forget how lazy and uneducated I really am, and that I have to admit some day that those IQ tests I took years ago were online IQ tests and partly in Russian so I have to stop considering them as accurate.

And that I droppped science when I was 15 and all I can remember prior to that is Helium is lighter than Hydrogen oh no wait, it’s the other way around… but for some reason am still ridiculously proud that I remember Potassium is “K”.

But I am sozzled drunk so I begin to lose the clarity and sense of purpose to my arguments. I was at the start quite eloquent and made a lot of sense. My mother was saying “ok… ok… I see.. that makes sense… when you put it that way…” but then I became distracted by visions of myself in a labcoat somewhere, endorsing a new kind of eliptical trainer, curing cancer, growing human ears on the backs of mice, and so forth.

I flounder.

I begin using examples that make no sense.

“Well if Leo IS loyal, then why would a person… say you are from Greece, and I say that you have a birth stone that is igenous, would that mean you are igneous? No? I DONT THINK SO! Wait, what? No… not igneous. Anyway forget I said that. What if you are a lion… no what if it was pterodactyls. Do you think they are extinct? Lions are not extinct. COINCIDENCE?”

And my mother is just blinking at me, and I take this to be evidence that she is just not capable of such high thought processes like I am, so I dumb it down even more. I use examples I don’t even understand, because I am an asshole and when I’m drunk I remember the thing I spend most of my sober brain power trying to forget: That is, that I think I’m better and smarter than everyone else. I am admitting it here because I can. I think I am better than everyone else but I hate that I think that and let me point out, I don’t always or entirely believe it but I have a part of me constantly trying to convince me that it’s true I really am DA BOMB. So that’s difficult to keep balanced… anyway drunk, or with cocaine, for example, I forget to not think that, and it comes out and I act like a horrible egomaniacal person.

Anyway we are now talking about karma.

I think I used it as a surefire example of bullshit to bolster my argument against horoscopes, but my mother claims to believe it.

She says “yes I believe in karma, it’s real, of course it is.”

I blink at her incredulously. Have to rethink my whole argument now, whatever it was.

“You honestly… what? Seriously?”

My mother looks quite hurt. She has probably looked hurt for a while now, but I am quite busy with my scientist fantasies so may not have noticed.

“Well, I want it to be.”

So it is… or you want it to be?

“IT IS REAL.”

Right.

“Well, no, but I think it would be nice.”

Ok… seriously.. fucks sake woman, do you or do you not believe in karma?

Anyway. Things only became more heated and more ignorant and more ridiculous.

It all comes to a seething head when I start pretending to my poor sweet lovely hippie mum that I know about electrons, which I don’t.

She says the air is heated between us, and I begin raging against that and saying

“oh my god you have no grasp of thermodynamics (???) and there is no heated air, energy doesn’t transgress that way! No no no, you don’t understand how sound waves move, there are no electrons!”

Or something. It’s all bullshit and based on how drunk I remember KNOWING I was at the time, I would say it sounded about 95% less coherent than whatever the fuck I just said now…

My mother is screaming her own garbled drunken bullshit back at me. She grabs her wine glass and flounces out of my room and slams the door.

I get up, my eyelid flickering something fierce, my face a furnace of rage and gout, and storm after her with her blanket… I walk past her pillow she must have taken but dropped on the floor, but I ignore it and just fling the blanket onto her bed and yell “THERE YOU ARE!”

And she sees the pillow and in her own state of anger and confusion thinks I have followed her to throw her pillow on the ground on purpose and she yells “just THROW IT on the ground, REAL MATURE!”

I try to explain but it’s too late, I can’t be bothered explaining anything any more.

I go to bed and silently play back in my head whatever my arguments were and whatever retarded beliefs my mother expressed and I come to the conclusion that I was definitely right about everything but probably not the last bit about the sound waves because I don’t actually have any kind of science knowledge. I decide to be nice to my mum the next day and go to sleep quite happy with this plan.

Wake up at 6am feeling very thirsty and ashamed.

Sleep some more.

Realise have not had any alone time in 3 days. I need alone time.

Feel too weird whacking off what with my mum in the next room especially as my bedroom door doesn’t close 100% so I just have to wait for her to go home. Two more days.

My mum wakes me with coffee around 11am.

I am seriously hung over. She has slept badly.

We laugh about our ridiculous fight the night before. We both pretend to not remember what it was about and say “something stupid I’m sure!” and I tell her about her pillow and how I didn’t throw it on the ground and she says she doesn’t remember that but we both laugh so we are friends again.

I remember not to drink more than two glasses of wine together again.

Smooth sailing more or less, except that I after 4 days with no self-love or computer games or anything or even blogging or whatever, I am quite testy and my mum is grating on my nerves.

I explain to her that I am used to being on my own and I apologise for being intollerant because I know I am, but I also know that 5 days with my best friends and I am GOLDEN. Except I would find a way to masturbate in that time if I only had my friends over to visit. I’d send them out to get smokes or something.

Anyway.

I begin noticing things like she bites her nails really noisily.

It drives me mad.

I never noticed it in years and years of being her daughter.

Never noticed it.

Then she does this tuneless kind of humming that really pisses me off… it’s not a song, it’s like some really long flat notes… I ask her what song it is while my nerves crackle and pop and I force myself to think, my mum has NO IDEA how much this could possibly annoy me, so be nice… She says some song title I know, and no her humming does not resemble the song. I thought by identifying it, I would be able to tolerate… no. It’s unbearable. I want to cry because I have to be nice and polite and not be a dick but oh my god i can’t stand the noise.

Anyway my mother has gone home now, and I was nice to her most of the time and she enjoyed herself. I was only a dick some of the time.

It was good for me, really it was, my mother and I clash terribly, but we really really want to be friends so we keep on trying. It’s just annoying because I’m her only child, and I’m really not much of a continuation of her worldview. I’m just a vehicle for her genes.

I don’t know but the idea of my ever having a baby and giving it all my love and informing it of my opinions about things and then for it to turn around and reject everything I taught it… seems like a sick, cruel twisted payback for all my effort and life and stuff. Like, I’d wanna know now if I’m gonna give birth to some ungrateful erroneous fool right now, so I don’t waste my time and don’t stretch out my vadge for nothing.

I’m sure that, not being a cynical and selfish person like me, my mother doesn’t see it that way.

But that’s how I see it, so my kids better RESPECT MAH AUTHORITAY if I ever do decide to have children. Not that it would be decision exactly, if I do pop one out it will probably be more to do with I am really irresponsible when drinking and there are men around me.

I’m gonna be a great mother.

I will not be a scientist though.

Have to make sure drunk me gets the memo.

Damn I wish drunk me was more easily trained.

In other news… I am quite tired and drained emotionally after my mum’s visit, naturally. I feel a bit bad about how at the core I always go back to being quite a harsh and petty mean person and it’s only by spending good whacks of time by myself that I manage to maintain myself at optimal levels of tolerance and whatever for socialising with people, and then no one realises how narky and spiteful I am, but yeah… maybe I’m not so bad, I just am easily irritated.

I’m also tempted to think maybe I have some crippling social disability. that would be nice, then people would just be like “oh that’s just MFO, she needs alone time or it makes her dickhausen- syndrome flare up and she starts getting angry about evolutionary biology even though she doesn’t understand it.”

Is there a syndrome?

Am I just a dick?

Oh in other news,

11th of November: SKYRIM is being released. It is a game by my previous favorite games’ creators. It’s gonna be OFF THE HOOK.

That means I have to wait until what, 12th November? For the pirates to catch up and sort shit out for lazy bitches like myself.

Whoop whoop! Can’t wait. So soon.

Have to sort out my life, everything, absolutely everything, before it comes out.

That’s gonna be at least 2 weeks where I am useless to anyone.

Useless.

I must wash all the dishes in the house, stock up on frozen food and things and just make sure I have seen my family enough beforehand so they won’t mind so much I don’t go visit them for two weeks.

Oh it’s going to be SWEET!

I love you already, game that will soon make up 90% of my waking thoughts.

We are gonna be best friends.

Now I am tired, I haven’t done any typing in like 5 days so I don’t want to wear my fingers out, I have further use of them if you get my drift, wink wink, nudge nudge, can’t be getting carpal tunnel on my first night alone.

Ok sorry you are more sophisticated than that there is no need for my unsubtle innuendo…

Did you just mentally says “In YOUR end-o?”

No? Ok. Never mind. I thought you were cool like me, obviously not.

Good night.

(I know MINE is gonna be!)

Ok I’m sorry I will stop now.

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7 responses to “5 Days with my mother

    • Thanks! Yeah we really shouldn’t get drunk together it is a bad idea. On the plus side, at least this time nobody else was around to hear or see us. What happens in mother daughter wine time stays in mother daughter wine time.

  1. Sounds like a tornado of a visit! In regards to the schooling part; I had my gf over for a visit (she is a flight attendant ) and she wants to quit her job and be an organic farmer but she says she wants to go back to school first for it.
    dot dot dot……
    She was implying that she needed to go to school to be a farmer and I was like “dude, that’s not natural. If you wanna grow stuff then go grow stuff.”
    Anyhow, I am a HUGE proponent of non-university but I do understand it’s value. and have never been to post secondary except a small college course. I feel very successful with my life. I would rather live happy doing something meaningful etc than to pay thousands on education for a job I would hate and have stress every day because of it.
    Motherhood is awesome! Stressful however and many times have thought that ripping my hair out just might be a solution to the frustration that sometimes gets me.
    Anyhow Glad to see you posting! I checked a couple times on your page to see if I was missing the post memo but I remembered your Mom was there.
    xx

    • Well I’ve always held firm to my lack of education, but sometimes it clashes with my desire to be right about everything. I don’t think you need college to do well in life, no freaking way do I believe that, but I do kind of resent my lack of real science knowledge because at heart I’m a big ole geek, except I don’t know enough to be a proper geek with a rich, meaningful online life. I’m a little bit wrecked after my mum’s visit, even though it was also fun the rest of the time… but I missed venting directly after anything annoyed me at all…

  2. Woke up this morning, checked my email, saw the title of your post and violently screamed “FUCK YES!” at my computer screen.

    Oh man, your family, I love your family, it’s like Christmas morning whenever I get to hear about them. Was your Mom orgasm(ing) the entire time while eating too? Is that why you have to mop the entire house down? I can’t believe you didn’t kill her, 5 days of constant pant exploding is a jarring experience. You should seriously get a medal, a high five, or something.

    I have to say though I’m on the same boat as you MFO, we’re always right. Always. Everybody else is just wrong. I don’t think we’re being dicks, I just think we’re both REALISTIC people.

    Needed a good laugh today and you provided, multiple times, thanks MFO. That picture of Ren summed up your entire experience perfectly and had me rolling on the floor.

    And no talks about Skyrim! I’ve been agonizing over this game for the past month! I’ve been so god damn bored! I neeeeeeeeeeeeed this game to complete me. My next two post will be of me completely gushing over the game. Goodbye life.

    • Thanks man I was gonna let it go and not mention my mother’s vociferous enjoyment of her meals, but you had to poke the sleeping beast didn’t you? Yep, for every fucking salad leaf I served her… she groaned and moaned and closed her eyes and licked her lips. It’s partly my fault for being such an awesome cook but one time I burnt the coffee and she still did it. At one point when we had a really good pizza I snapped, I was like FORFUCKS SAKE why so LOUD? And she’s all, ooh sorry to annoy you! But kept making noises and then also giggling which made it seem like she was flirting with me. But she has no idea it’s because they are sexual noises, she just thinks I have no tolerance for noise, which is also true. But it was rough.

      Oh man I am glad you got a laugh from my family drama. It’s a pity I haven’t been home for Christmas in years, that’s a festival of boozing and arguments right there. I feel like just grabbing people on the street and telling them how awesome Skyrim looks. In fact I have been doing the internet version of that, I have been randomly starting facebook chat convos with people I never talk to, asking them about their families and shit and then being like “who me? nothing much, just waiting for Skyrim to come out on the 11th of the 11th of motherfuckin 2011!” and then I post a link to the trailer. I don’t have one real life gamer buddy who likes the same games as me so I am really just boring a whole load of FPS players who wouldn’t recognise a handcrafted dungeon if it bit them on the dick.

      I’m sure you’ll agree it’s tough being this awesome and having the only right taste in things.

      • Your mom, I don’t know what I did in my life before I read about your Mom. It’s just a constant amount of comedic gold.

        Poor FPS they can’t wrap their heads around anything that doesn’t involve teabagging and 14 year old screeching. Skyrim is going to be amazing and will be in my hands a week from now. Thank you amazon. You wonderful website.

        Yeah it’s tough being us sometimes. Isn’t it? But someones gotta do it. I sure as hell not going to listen to anyone elses opinion. Considering I know everything and am always right.

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