I'm not so enthused about blogging tonight. While stopping by my parents' house this evening, I learned that I'd forgotten my mom's birthday a few days ago. Dad suggested I wish her a happy birthday. There was some disappointment in his voice. The best I could manage was a perfunctory "Happy Birthday." It didn't help that I was borrowing a boombox and folding chairs for the Fringe show. "Hey, I'm just gonna take this CD player, these chairs, wish you a happy birthday and then be on my way."
Now I feel guilty. That leads to feeling angry at Mom for making me feel guilty. The anger often triggers violent conversations with myself wherein I spit verbal venom at my parents' imaginary holograms. Sure, they're generous with money and material support, but that will never make up for the fact that she checked out emotionally when I hit puberty. And why can't he see that?
I've covered this in other posts, and I really don't wanna go over it again tonight. I'll be funny again tomorrow.
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