Moment of Clarity
I was ready to stop doing this because even I couldn’t see the merit in randomly posting stupid internet videos complete with a pithy comment. If I thought it was a waste of time anyone reading it probably agreed. The problem was there was no direction or focus, but upon returning home last night it hit me…my family. Personally I believe everyones family is as comical, zany and inappropriate as mine is, it’s all a matter of accepting and embracing it. I’d like to think i’m doing people a service, showing them that everyone’s home life is in some ways fucked up.
My morning technically began at 6:30. I was sleeping on the couch in my living room when I was yelled at for not being in my bed. The problem here is my mom doesn’t want someone sleeping in “HER” living room all morning for the next 5 weeks, but I got over sleeping in the top bed of the bunk bed roughly 10 years ago. An issue that became even more pressing when I would have girlfriends, and ultimately lead to more time than i’d care to admit in my brother’s bed. Anyway I complied, but I grunted angrily and kicked pillows (hopefully pillows and not cats) in my stomp-y march up to my bed. 6:45-11:00 was spent there.
I needed a haircut and as some of the girls that i’ve gone out with are aware of I have an insane, unhealthy insecurity (I guess?) when it comes to how my hair looks and a crippling problem with getting it cut. As a student of psychology I can’t help but think about where this comes from. I’ve decided that it’s a result of my mom cutting my hair for the first 4 years of my life as I squirmed and cried as she held me down and took a razor to my head. Being able to groom dogs requires a slightly different skill set than cutting the hair of small children. For this reason I continue to drag my mom along with me for haircuts 15 years later. Although I still force her to accompany me she’s really more of a stressor than anything else. She attempts to prep me for the ordeal ahead of time by asking me the questions that I will be expected to answer when I am beckoned from the waiting area. This does not go well as my responses to the mock questions are a mess of stuttering, “uhs” and vague instructions about hair length and completely useless directions like “Make the front shorter, but not TOO short.” This results in my mom telling the woman to make my hair look like one of the huge Supercut model pictures on the wall. The haircutter? hairdresser?…let’s go with hairdresser…The hairdresser laughs at my inability to get a haircut by myself even though I’m a junior in college. I deserve it. Things go well. As always the first thing I think is that my face looks fatter now that I have less hair. It always surprises me.
Upon leaving my mom attempts the old “U-Turn on busy Bell Blvd. in the midst of a snow storm manuever.” While struggling to do this and keep casualties low she brainstorms holiday gifts for my dad. She comes up with Pillow Store gift card, Massage gift certificate and Facial gift certificate. She’s being completely serious. Let all of that sink in…
Somehow I ended up at my grandmas, where I am now entering all of this on a dial up connection and a version of AOL 6.0 which may or may not be older than I am. Nothing too eventful here. A slightly racist remark about how her soap opera has more “black players” now than it used to. I’m going to wrap this up now before a little yellow man drops the endlessly frustrating “GOOD BYE” that I’ve gotten so many times on this computer.
