The Enemy of the Good (eideteker) wrote,
The Enemy of the Good
eideteker

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A Change? If it was, it will do you good.

My mother and I actually talked today. For real. A conversation.

She asked me how I was feeling and I told her, no lies. I told her I wasn't feeling too good because Becca and I had broken up, and I told her how I was in love with a girl in California named Michelle. She handled it well.

It was way too short, but it's hard to get privacy in my apartment. Especially from my grandmother (not the one I'm staying with; she's on vacation, remember). She said something very mean about me "never" finishing college when I was trying to help my brother figure out his loan situation. God, it took all I had to not rip into her. I really don't like my grandmother, whatever that says about me. She's not a very nice person. But I kept my cool, and didn't even insult her, except with my tone. Some of you know that tone. The childish pedantic voice I use when someone is being "obviously stupid" and I am trying to distill things into the simplest terms for them. God, I'm such an ass.

And I told them that I was going out there in June. My uncle, who works for Continental confirmed that my price for tickets was about the best possible, and I told them all that I had Joe's girlfriend Katy to thank for it (I love you guys! Thanks for the card, Joe. Moai heads ROCK). So now they know at least part of the story.

It was amazing... I walked across the George Washington Bridge, singing the end half of STP's Core at the top of my lungs. I was thinking of Michelle (duh) and how she actually likes my singing voice... and how I can sing with some confidence now, and how important confidence is to me. I thought about how she told her mommy about me, and how I could possibly tell my mother, and I realized a big problem was my grandma, and my inability to trust her. So, I got my mommy aside, out of my grandmother's shrinking earshot.

I did it. And I told my mommy I loved her. I, the child who stopped kissing at 6, and quit hugging at 8, hugged my mom and told her I love her. My poor mom who almost litereally slaved to raise two kids sans pater, two adolescent males with hot tempers, quick to anger, slow to love (my brother is quicker to anger, but also quicker with gestures of love). I'd like to think she was happy.
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