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mousme*sings cheerfully off-key*
"You're nobody 'til somebody loves you
You're nobody 'til somebody cares
You may be king and you may possess the world and its gold
But gold won't bring you happiness when you're growin' old
The world still is the same you'll never change it
As sure as the stars shine above
Well you're nobody 'til somebody loves you
So find yourself somebody to love..."
Went out with Poms tonight. He is just the sweetest thing around. Took me to a not-very-good little diner called The Green Spot which was thankfully not too expensive, and we chatted happily about family and other random considerations. Mostly about eccentric relatives of some note. It was fun.
We then proceeded downtown for a flic, and met TT and friends on the metro, who encouraged us to go see The Royal Tennenbaums. Sadly, we got there too late to see the seven twenty showing, and the next one was at nine fifty or thereabouts, which we both agreed was far too late for us working folks.
So instead we went back to his place and watched Ride With The Devil, which was as amusing as it was silly and maudling and implausible. Had much fun, though, and by the end we'd even managed to overcome our initial shyness enough to do the standard boy-casually-puts-arm-behind-girl thing that you usually see in fourteen-year-olds in movie theatres. *grin* It was nice though. Not super comfortable, but I suspect that that was because I was too nervous to relax properly. I think I'll get the hang of it eventually.
Never seen Poms quite so bouncy. I think I'll take it as a compliment. :)
Of course, my wonderful evening came to a brutal, shattering halt when I got home. My mother was in the kitchen ironing of all things. When she irons at 11:30 at night, it's never a good sign. She's obviously mad at me for some reason, but I can't think what I've done or not done recently that might have triggered this latest onslaught. She gave me one of those "you're a worm unworthy of being my daughter" looks as I walked in, then in her best sarcastic tone pleaded with me to spare her one hour from my schedule tomorrow because she feels it's high time we had "a talk." Which means that she expects me to sit down and listen to her heap abuse on me for an hour.
I hate those sessions. I've never learned to shut up properly. I keep trying to defend myself, and it always goes badly. After 23 years, you'd think I'd have figured it out by now, but every single time it hurts just as much to be told how much I suck, what an ungrateful, pathetic wretch I am, and how I'm not living up to my own potential (read: her expectations). God dammit, I wish she'd leave me alone.
It might be something as simple as: "You don't pull your weight around here!" or could get as vastly complicated as: "Where do you think your life is going? What's your detailed plan for the next twenty-five years?"
Or it could be simple guilt-tripping about how much she does for me and how little I show my appreciation, evil ungrateful daughter that I am. If only I were more like her friends' children, who are all perfect. They're all attractive, brilliant, successful and well-adjusted. Hah!
Enough ranting. I'm going to bed. With any luck, she'll take out most of her black mood on my father before I wake up tomorrow. Somehow he's easier to deal with when he's in a crappy mood. At least I don't feel guilty when he's mad at me.
"You're nobody 'til somebody loves you
You're nobody 'til somebody cares
You may be king and you may possess the world and its gold
But gold won't bring you happiness when you're growin' old
The world still is the same you'll never change it
As sure as the stars shine above
Well you're nobody 'til somebody loves you
So find yourself somebody to love..."
Went out with Poms tonight. He is just the sweetest thing around. Took me to a not-very-good little diner called The Green Spot which was thankfully not too expensive, and we chatted happily about family and other random considerations. Mostly about eccentric relatives of some note. It was fun.
We then proceeded downtown for a flic, and met TT and friends on the metro, who encouraged us to go see The Royal Tennenbaums. Sadly, we got there too late to see the seven twenty showing, and the next one was at nine fifty or thereabouts, which we both agreed was far too late for us working folks.
So instead we went back to his place and watched Ride With The Devil, which was as amusing as it was silly and maudling and implausible. Had much fun, though, and by the end we'd even managed to overcome our initial shyness enough to do the standard boy-casually-puts-arm-behind-girl thing that you usually see in fourteen-year-olds in movie theatres. *grin* It was nice though. Not super comfortable, but I suspect that that was because I was too nervous to relax properly. I think I'll get the hang of it eventually.
Never seen Poms quite so bouncy. I think I'll take it as a compliment. :)
Of course, my wonderful evening came to a brutal, shattering halt when I got home. My mother was in the kitchen ironing of all things. When she irons at 11:30 at night, it's never a good sign. She's obviously mad at me for some reason, but I can't think what I've done or not done recently that might have triggered this latest onslaught. She gave me one of those "you're a worm unworthy of being my daughter" looks as I walked in, then in her best sarcastic tone pleaded with me to spare her one hour from my schedule tomorrow because she feels it's high time we had "a talk." Which means that she expects me to sit down and listen to her heap abuse on me for an hour.
I hate those sessions. I've never learned to shut up properly. I keep trying to defend myself, and it always goes badly. After 23 years, you'd think I'd have figured it out by now, but every single time it hurts just as much to be told how much I suck, what an ungrateful, pathetic wretch I am, and how I'm not living up to my own potential (read: her expectations). God dammit, I wish she'd leave me alone.
It might be something as simple as: "You don't pull your weight around here!" or could get as vastly complicated as: "Where do you think your life is going? What's your detailed plan for the next twenty-five years?"
Or it could be simple guilt-tripping about how much she does for me and how little I show my appreciation, evil ungrateful daughter that I am. If only I were more like her friends' children, who are all perfect. They're all attractive, brilliant, successful and well-adjusted. Hah!
Enough ranting. I'm going to bed. With any luck, she'll take out most of her black mood on my father before I wake up tomorrow. Somehow he's easier to deal with when he's in a crappy mood. At least I don't feel guilty when he's mad at me.
...
Date: 2002-03-15 09:49 pm (UTC)Will be online most of maybe late morning and afternoon afore the game, iffen you care to talk.
Ivy