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fulldamage

Raised by Wolves

Gaki: writing myself Real


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fulldamage

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For me, talking about life problems with the folks is sort of like putting a knife away in a pile of junk for safekeeping. I know I put it away there so that it would be less dangerous, but every now and then I'm digging for something and ow, shit!, I seem to have cut myself. Good thing I put it away.

Mom: You alright, son? Doing okay?
The Accused: Yeah, sure. I guess.
M: And you wouldn't talk about it even if you weren't, right?
A: ... ah. Well. (Proceeds to divulge, sparsely and in a few sentences.)
M: Oh, well. No use complaining about it, right?
A: (spastic eye twitch). Nope. Absolutely not.
M: Heh. Welcome to the real world, I guess?
A: (scathing reply addressing which real world she might have thought he was living in up until this point, sent down to meet the others in his stomach, where they are attempting to dig an escape route through it's suffering lining, all the while screaming "SHAWSHANK!" in a hideously disfigured Southern accent) You're right, of course. Absolutely right.
M: Did you get that novena I sent?
A: (fully aware that even the merest hint at religious debate will result only in a response on the order of "lalala I can't hear you"). Yep. Guess it's around here somewhere.
M: It's Lent, you know.
A: Yep. Guess it is.
M: Fish on Fridays, eh?
A: (Okay, I know I have developed low-grade narcolepsy to an embarassing degree in church, but hell, I did seventeen years of this Catholic crap at your behest, woman, my memory's not THAT bad. I will eat whatever I bloody want on Friday, God can come talk to me if he disagrees. It's probably going to be a salad anyway.) ... Yep.

(and let's not forget the usual...)
M: So, anything interesting going on, outside of work?
A: Such as?
M: ... you know. Socially?
A: Such as?
M: Well... you know. Friends?
A: (thinking, "One day I'm just going to snap and say, Yeah, well, I've got this hooker I bang on Tuesdays. I was thinking of asking her to come over and meet you but, you know, she just not big on meeting people. She's been losing a lot of hair lately due to the scabies, but hell, it's what's inside that counts, right?' You'd love her. We'll drive down there for labor day. She can meet Gramma. They'll get along famously.) ... Such as?

1 AM finds me buying a pint of Bacardi at the 7-11, I hadn't been drinking much lately, but there's nothing like a parent call to send you into the throes of self-contemplation and then quickly into the arms of liquid anti-contemplation right after. I love my family. They just drive me a little bit insane. r. The guy behind the counter's got a Johnny Thunders patch on his jacket, and I suddenly remember that I don't know where my copy of Millar's "The Good Fairies of New York" is. Probably still with Jessica the Fabulous Rock Disaster. I should give her a call.

Joyce's "Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" is painfully true in some places, painfully irritating in others. At some points I identify completely, at others I think he's a whinging little coward. If he hadn't spent a ridiculous amount of pages recounting hellfire and brimstone sermons in full, I might have really been hooked; as it is, I'm just going to finish the thing off out of sheer bloodymindedness.

I should thank Paris Hilton for letting her Sidekick get hacked; it boosted traffic to chamber significantly, bringing my pop-culture ranting to the eyes of tens of celebrity sin-eaters, bless her shallow soul.

The award for damaging my brain for the month goes to beautifulpyre, for this Ouroboros, showing me a thing I had heretofore believed to be a physical impossibility. WARNING: NSFW, and will forever scar your mind's eye. Don't click. Don't do it. I have warned you.

Yeah. How are you? Spritely? Secure? Massive? Hell-bent? Rage-a-holics? Tell me.

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i'm so happy my parents don't bother me about religion any more. i, too, would be forced to do horrible things to them if they still did. ;)

as an aside, the text in this comment box (not what i'm typing, but everything around it) is in chinese. that's odd.

Japanese, actually. 'Tis a-purpose, never fear. I just rather like the way it looks. I think there are actually a number of language settings you can tell LJ to output.

cool...i didn't know you could do that...

Other side of the conversation...coin.

Mom: (trying desperately to find a good way to get into a "Real" conversation with offspring. Like they use to have when he was, say, three. Back when he wouldn't stop talking to her.) You alright, son? Doing okay?
The Son: Yeah, sure. I guess.
M: (Desperately trying to think of counter-psychology tactics to get him to TALK.) And you wouldn't talk about it even if you weren't, right?
A: ... ah. Well. (Proceeds to divulge, sparsely and in a few sentences.)
M: (Probably oversympathizing, but not wanting to sound over sympathizing because all the media says offspring thinks that's "uncool".)Oh, well. No use complaining about it, right?
A: Nope. Absolutely not.
M: (Groping for a way to say she understands even though the times and situation are different for offspring.)Heh. Welcome to the real world, I guess?
A: You're right, of course. Absolutely right.
M: (Immediately knows the conversation has gone DownHill, tries to regroup with something else, anything else...)Did you get that novena I sent?
A: Yep. Guess it's around here somewhere.
M: (Heartsink. Gifts are gifts, they often have meaning outside of "religious" purposes. When did she get to be old and stupid in his eyes?)It's Lent, you know.
A: Yep. Guess it is.
M: (He knew that. She knew he knew that. Hopelessness sets in.)Fish on Fridays, eh?
A: ... Yep.

(and let's not forget the usual...)
M: (Having hit a brick wall, decides to stick to "safe" conversation topics...whatever they might be. God forbid she show and interest in her offspring.)So, anything interesting going on, outside of work?
A: Such as?
M: (She doesn't even relly care to hear what her husband does at work, she wants to just know what ELSE there is in the lives of her men. Is it always such a difficult question?)... you know. Socially?
A: Such as?
M: (Okay, since when did her offspring develop a thick skull? "Socially?" has always meant "girlfriends?")Well... you know. Friends?
A: ... Such as?

By now I'm sure your mother has begun questioning her child-rearing abilities considering she can't seem to get her son to speak in complete sentences. ::wryly:: S'okay. Moms can get over it, eventually, we're made of rubbre yanno...sorta along the lines of a punching bag as I hear it.;) Having been on your side of things and now being a Mom, myself...I can see where I probably should have been more open with my folks. Also, it was always a good guage of how "Well" I was doing in my life. Sometimes, Ken, loving your family isn't enough. Tch...wish I could be more ego-stroking right now but I just don't have it in me to do that. Apologies.

Away put your weapon, I mean you no harm.

Sheathe thy blade, defender of mothers everywhere. ^_^ We actually had a nice half-hour long conversation about movies and stuff. I just excerpted the most typically awkward part of the convo for comedic purposes, because we've had it a million times, and it's approaching in-joke status.

Appreciate as always the valuable insight. If I might trade observations with you... should you have either the fortune or mischance to rear one of those strange quiet children who for whatever reason would bleed before making a verbal complaint about anything, and you get the urge to pry one day rather than waiting for them to come to you with it, and they finally DO divulge, try not to follow up with, "Oh, well, no use complaining, eh?" Because they will prrrrrrrobably end up irritated, and lacking a valid target, will then transfer the emotion and end up angry at themselves, and less divulging in future, which is exactly the opposite of what you want, you know? ~_^ Cheers.

Re: Away put your weapon, I mean you no harm.

Sure, I put down my weapons and get a knife right to my heart. I already have a strange kid in Liam, and my clone-self in Ally. By all means share your wisdom in child rearing in how to deal with these two when they become passive-agressive cyberpunk hermits. ;)

Re: Away put your weapon, I mean you no harm.

Hmm. I'm not sure I've ever been called passive-aggressive before. Care to elaborate?

Does it always have to be about YOU? :)

Do I care to elaborate? No, but I'll indulge you anyways. Your Hermit-statuts has been officially revoked for some time now. ;) I was speaking of the two up-and-coming passive-agressive cyberpunk hermits I am quite possibly raising in my own household.

Seriously, there's going to come a time where I'll be having those conversations with my kids. I know it's coming, just as surely as I know their hormones are coming. I know what I put my own parents through, and I am hoping to break the cycle of parental neglect and abuse that thrives in that period of time between "being a kid" and "having the grandkids" stages of their lives.

::sigh::Forgive an old woman her tired battle cries. At some point it's less about bra-burning and more about tear-jerking.

In my journal? Of course it's always about me!!!

Ex-Catholic lads get peevish when you remind them they don't pay enough attention to their moms. :)

By my estimation, your children are quite dear to you, and you're doing just fine with them. As for child-rearing tips, I have more sense than to try my hand at that. I can barely raise a mold.

Re: In my journal? Of course it's always about me!!!

Ex-Catholics aren't the only ones.

Thanks for the kudos, I'll let you remain with that nice warm-fuzzy picture of me and the kids...::tries to keep their shouts at being strangled from being heard over the internet::

meanwhile, I'll go back to hanging out like the addict I am around AOL's FFGF chatrooms...I'm *this* close to kicking my Rping habit, entirely.;)

Later.

Jesus christ......only in Russia.... :P

We would have lost the Cold War. They really just don't give a fuck. So to speak. ^_^

OHGODTHEOUBOROSMYEYES

*Screams, pours lysol on eyeballs*

Re: OHGODTHEOUBOROSMYEYES

Heheheheh, somebody should forward this to Mahler.

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