Thursday, March 13, 2008

a deviation from the common rule, type, arrangement, or form

I call my mother to tell her how well the classes are going. Grinning, I boast of my successes that somehow seem to exceed most others in the class [mom's are really good at also bragging on the accomplishments of their offspring]. Unbeknown to me, she has been drinking and proves the point with the confession that she now lays in the floor as she chats on the phone. By now, I can hear the inconsistency of her speech. No less, I ignorantly continue to drivel on about my pride, as I have never been a star student [especially at anything requiring athletic propensity], when suddenly her agreeing tone turns bitter:

Well, I'm just soooo sorry you got that from me. I'm real fucking sorry that all of your good qualities came from your father.

Soon after the rant's beginning, I tell her I have to wrenches my interior with a choking fury.

Following the snide drama of last night's episode, I receive an email from my father. He has most certainly misspelled my name, which I received as a shortened version of his own...

[like all the others, these get filed away under "funny family stories," the ones I lean so heavily on to stave off tears and failure.]

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