Home > Uncategorized > Entry 11/23/2005 05:06:56 PM – Mentat 204

Entry 11/23/2005 05:06:56 PM – Mentat 204


     The day before Thanksgiving…  And believe it or not, but as I look out the window eastward, I get to see snow of all sorts falling outside.  Sure it’s not quite a blizzard, but it’s enough to put a covering on the ground as well as give the holidays a rather white smattering here and there.  At least it’s not the kind of snowstorms one would expect of a blizzard.  But it does bring a sort of smile to my face as I recall holidays gone by when there was always some sort of flurry for the Thanksgiving Holiday in New England. 

     The week however didn’t start on exactly a good note.  In fact, I’m not entirely sure which day it was when Jeannie and I got into a fight at 11:30 at night.  She had brought to my attention that her son Sam had some sort of issue about a joke that I had made. 


     The story is that we had been watching something and that Sam didn’t like it in the least…  So he had quoted a line from Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, where Sméagol/Gollum had screamed "It burns!" when Samwise had put the Elfin rope on him as a leash.  This weekend — when I had gone with Jeannie to the mall for her Caring and Sharing fundraiser drive, and I took advantage of filling out several job applications there at the anchor stores — she had threatened when she was off her shift for the drive to drag my ass to the Christian Bookstore and "…see whether I would go up in flames in the process…"  I had told her that I would fall on the ground and scream, "it burns!" like her son did the week before. 

     When we had gotten home I had told him about the story and at first he seemed rather bemused by it — but being the drama queen in training that he can be — decided on throwing a hissy-fit about it to his mother, stating something to the extent that I was "…going to ruin the Christmas Holiday here…" 


     What I should’ve said about the child having hissy-fits of this sort and dramatic moments really needs to be nipped in the bud before the child really learns how to push the issues, but instead I simply made a comment that she could always turn this around to show the child something along the understanding of allowances for diversity, or even offered to allow me to talk to the child so that I could smooth over whatever ruffled feathers he was having over the plain and simple fact that the holidays have always been tormented and horrible for me. 

     Jeannie would have nothing of the sort and simply pulled yet another moment with me to censor me and demand that I simply sit down and shut the hell up about it, and swallow whatever pride I had going on and allow her child to "…have this holiday [of illusions and idyllic dreams], because most probably come next year, he won’t have them…" 

     I offered an alternative where I will sequester myself to the attic for the holidays, (mainly because I was finding myself walking on eggshells because whenever I said something that Sam didn’t agree with — he would simply throw a hissy-fit about it behind my back to his parents so that he can get his way). 

     She blew up right there and then telling me that it wasn’t an option, that this was "…her house…" and that "…I’m going to shut up and deal with it…" and "…be an adult and not run and hide…" or else she’ll, "…pack everything I own up and put me on the next bus out of here…"

     Needless to say my blood pressure skyrocketed in a way that surpassed the last time I had been censored by her, and I believe that the tinnitus in my right ear had gotten so bad, that the next day after I had calmed down — it was still ringing just as badly as it did when she made all the mother-like threats she had made. 


     The fact of the matter is — Sam knows he can’t pull the shit he pulls with his mother and father on me, because I simply ignore it, leaving him feel like the fool.  The last hissy-fit that he had thrown at me because of something I had done (he wanted to open up the loaf of bread but instead of taking his time, was beginning to rip the bag, I interjected and told him to take his time and to look at the closure.  When he really began ripping the bag, I simply took him by the hand and showed him how the closure worked.   He then threw a crying/drama fit saying he wanted to do it and I told him he was ripping the bag, and the bag and bread needs to keep for a couple of more days) I let him cry on without so much as batting an eye.  He then stopped his crying, went into the living room and started it the hell back up so that his family could see him do it, so that he would get the sympathy he thinks he needs for it.   (it was his father in the living room, because his mother wasn’t paying attention at the moment because she was cooking). 


   Anyway — from that point she had gone off on me (again!) asking me what it was that I wanted…  And for one moment, I thought about telling her that I had explained it to her already and that no matter how many times I try to explain it, she wouldn’t understand because she was too busy dealing with much too much pride to understand how I operated.  Instead though, I explained it one more time.   The fact of the matter is that she has too many things in common with me.  First off — she’s still dealing with a Superman/Superwoman complex thinking that she had to do everything in order to fix things.  The next is that she’s got as much pride going on as I do. 

     What she thinks is that she had to fix my life in order for me to get better.  But what I really need is for one moment to watch a happy family (of sorts) and allow myself to sort everything out on my own.  I tried to explain to her it’s all about "lead by example" with me in that if she can make things work for her, her husband and her son, then through watching them sort my own life out and make sense of it as I’ve lost my way from trying to do things not only my way but the way that people think I should do them. 


     I’ll finish this up in a little bit…  It’s almost time for supper, and I don’t want them coming up looking for me…  Until later… 



[Last Edited: 11/23/2005 09:35:06 PM]


     All right, dinner’s out of the way…  I watched the ending of Shakespeare in Love, and watched a little of Mrs. Doubtfire before I told Jeannie that I would head upstairs for the night on the primary excuse of giving the cat some much needed attention (which is partially the truth — while the hellbeast has been getting well fed to the point of almost returning to her rotund shape — I haven’t given her the kind of attention she’s used to getting with me about the room/house). 


     Okay…  So I laid out most of the facts for her happy little explosion — an explosion that I’m tired of partaking in thanks largely to the blow-outs and minefields that I’ve had to go through with Rick — she added this little tidbit to something that I was sort of sensing on the weekend, but didn’t know why.  Apparently Charlie didn’t take his Zoloft one day (Sunday, I think) with the primary reason that he wanted to pick a fight with me.  But because I decided that it was the weekend, and I wanted time to myself, stayed up in my room without coming down too much, ended up picking a fight with Jeannie ’til he took his medications and kept to himself.  As it turns out — Charlie wants me out of the house.  Said something to the extent that he’s the only one working (although Jeannie does a hell of a lot of work ’round here with the selling on E-Bay, and I try my best to help around the house even though Jeannie makes it a point that she doesn’t want me to do much of anything because of her pride). 

     I told Jeannie that I would take the remaining money that they had taken for the replacement of the washing machine ($140.00) and I would pack a bag or two, and head to my family’s in Woonsocket.  I even offered that they could take what possessions that I had taken with me here, and allow them to sell it off (including the computer).  But Jeannie tells me that she had a serious talk with Charlie about this explaining that $140.00 isn’t all that much, and that it would be impossible to do much else with that money. 

     She tells me that Charlie’s been placated with the logic that she had used and that things are back to settled for the moment.  She told Charlie that I had been going at it with the resumes and the job applications, but given the fact that the economy isn’t all that much, that there aren’t all that many jobs in the metro Jeannette/Greensburg area and the fact that I don’t drive really limits the amount of jobs that I can take here and in the Pittsburgh area. 

     God…  Pittsburgh.  It costs something like $3.75 one-way to head from Pittsburgh from Greensburg, and something like $2.50 from Jeannette to Greensburg.  $5.00+ one way…  $10.00+ round-trip.  A DAY!!!!  This is beyond highway robbery when it comes to transit travel.  And it’s about the same distance from here to Pittsburgh as it is from Downtown Atlanta to Marietta Square.  And that sort of trip only cost something like $1.75 from Atlanta and $1.25 from Marietta Square. 

     *shakes my head*  I’ve even offered to take a shift-manager job at McDonald’s here in Greensburg — but Jeannie tells me that I shouldn’t have to take that sort of job.  I had thought twice about a position for telemarketing at a local firm (don’t know what the hell they do — but Jeannie’s foster daughter Penny did it), and I might ask about it again the day after Thanksgiving.  And there’s a job for IT installation, but from the sound of it — it sounds as though they need someone with reliable transportation.  And that’s just something I don’t have here in the backwater parts of Pennsylvania. 

     Hell — I’m even considering going for several sales positions, even though I totally suck at sales.


     *sigh* And to think this wasn’t the reason why I originally decided on sitting down and writing.  In fact, I was seriously thinking about writing why I was in a happy and sentimental mood when I sat down and wrote.  But, I guess the stresses are beginning to get me. 


     I originally sat down to write because when I was helping Jeannie with the pre-Thanksgiving preparations (she did most of the work, and even though I had offered several times to help, all I did most of the time was moral support and chitty-chat that comes from trying to remember better times for the holidays.  It took a while, but it eventually began to come back to me.  About how I would help the relatives when I could in preparation, and placing what was ready out on the table. 

     Jeannie tried to convince me to bury the hatchet with my mother…  Sure, she knows about all the shit I had gone through with her; and while I didn’t tell her that I had no personal way of getting in contact with my mother because none of my relatives have her phone number, or her new address — I stuck by my guns in that I won’t contact the woman until she started paying back the money that she owed.  I don’t think she understands the moral implications of the predicament with my mother, probably because she wouldn’t want to be the same position with her son, Sam.  But I know — her karma with her son is not the same karma that I have with my mother (or my family for that matter). 


     Well that’s about it for the time being.  Not quite where I wanted to go, but at least the stress of recalling it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.  Maybe tomorrow, I’ll sit down and actually write some of the sentimentality I have in mind.  Depends on whether I get a good night’s sleep or not.


     Until the next time.

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