The wait, and the weight

The week has slowly ticked by, and tomorrow we will be going to see my mother. To say I’m not looking forward to this is a grand understatement.

When something is weighing on me, everything else that’s worrisome seems to escalate as well. I am worrying about John, as usual. We’ve had this ongoing business with his knee; it’s verrrrrrry slowwwwwwly improving, but he still can’t take his walks or bike rides. In recent months, he seems to have developed sleep apnea; he snores horribly and we can’t sleep together anymore. He is supposed to go for one of those overnight sleep studies, but between his work and concerns about his knee and about his own mother (who is going into an assisted facility this weekend), he hasn’t addressed that issue. And speaking of work — last night, we were on the phone at 8:30 and he was still at the office. No wonder I simply don’t have it in me to be involved with my mother’s non-life. Worrying about John is a full-time job.

Tomorrow will go as it goes. My stepfather will either be accepting or he won’t. I’m not going to beg him to forgive me. And after tomorrow, I will make an effort to focus on good things ahead.

I’m shooting with Lily Starr this Wednesday; we rescheduled and I look forward to that. BBW is a month away, and that will bring me much joy. Not just the playing, but seeing so many dear friends and meeting new ones. It will be a soul-nurturing four days.

And, as a friend pointed out, there is always a Monday coming. ST, I appreciate you more than you’ll ever imagine. You are a gift that just keeps giving.

Finally, a word about low-life, bottom-feeding scum suckers. Also known as people who post attacks via anonymous comments. You think I’m disgusting? No. Disgusting is deliberate, calculated meanness, and the cowardice of hiding behind an anonymous post. You don’t like me, or my writing? Nobody’s holding a gun to your head; don’t read my blog or anything else I write. At the end of the day, I can look in the mirror and know that I haven’t gone out of my way to hurt anyone or ruin their day; you can’t say the same. And until you’ve lived my life and known what it’s like to be my mother’s daughter, don’t you fucking dare judge my family situation.

To my friends, I wish y’all a great weekend.

Odds and Ends not in my book, part 8

This is definitely off-topic, but funny. I figured we could all use some humor in our mid-week.

In his later years, my father had a very close friend, an actress named Sheila Rogers. One of those actresses you wouldn’t know by name, but if you watched sitcoms throughout the 1960s and ’70s, you’d have seen her. She was always a mom/neighbor/secretary/nurse/etc.

She’d also been in a commercial back in the 70s, I think — it was for some air freshener, I forget which one. Those of my age group may remember it: A woman answers her doorbell, and three of her friends walk in. One by one, each one comments about the smells in her house.

Friend #1: Fried fish for dinner again, dear?
Friend #2: George still smoking those cigars?
Friend #3: Oh, did you get a new cat?

Friend #3 was Sheila. Anyway, cut to 2003, when Sheila passed away and John and I were invited to her memorial. Some of you will recall my writing about my father’s memorial, and how it was more of a comic-fest than a sob-fest. Sheila’s wasn’t much different.

When we were all gathered, the room darkened and a video began playing on a large screen up front. In Memoriam: Sheila Rogers. The first thing that came on was that old air-freshener commercial. The first and second women walked in, delivered their lines. Then in walked Sheila. But instead of the scripted line, she made a face and said:

“Wow! Did a cow shit in here?”

I nearly wet myself, I was laughing so hard. To this day, every time John and I pass a fertilized lawn, smell a skunk or anything else that stinks, he says that exact line, and I still laugh.

You gotta hand it to show-biz people: they know how to put on a memorial.

For more laughs, check out Hermione’s Wednesday WIN.


EDIT: I just found out, thanks to Al, that this commercial spoof was featured in the Kentucky Fried Movie from 1977. The vignette is entitled “Household Odors.” How funny — I didn’t know this! 😀

I forgive you, Tim Burton

(No, I don’t. I just said that ’cause ST insisted. Explanation to follow shortly.)

OK, I promised a more fun blog tonight; enough of this depressing life stuff for a while. I had doubts about whether or not I’d be able to deliver, but ST distracted me and made me laugh — exactly what I needed.

So what’s this about Tim Burton? Well. I’m not going to go into it a whole lot tonight; in the future, I will posting the mother of all rants, but I’m not ready for that yet. In a nutshell, here’s the story: Y’all know how impassioned I am about Dark Shadows. And you’re all no doubt familiar with Tim Burton, the man who has created all those bizarro movies over the years (some good, others dreadful). For years (literally), there has been talk about how he and Johnny Depp were collaborating on a Dark Shadows movie. Apparently Depp is a huge DS fan and has wanted to play the vampire Barnabas Collins for most of his life. Long story short, the film has finally become a reality. It opens in May, but the trailer came out about a week-and-a-half ago, along with the official movie poster.

Tim Burton and Johnny Depp have taken a much-beloved cult classic, a gothic horror soap opera, and turned it into a comedy. A campy, cheesy spoof of the show, with a vampire from the 1700s being released from a coffin into the 1970s (complete with disco, and Depp’s character freaking out when he sees a television). While the original Barnabas looked like everyone else (so he could blend in and keep the secret of his vampirism), Depp’s Barnabas has thick, pasty-white makeup on, with blood-red lips and dark rings around his eyes. He looks like a circus freak. Or Michael Jackson.

What a viral firestorm. You have the camp on one side, the tweens, the Twilight fans, the Burton-Depp-ites, who think it looks hilarious and can’t wait to see the movie. Then there’s the other camp — the die-hard fans of the original who think this reinvention is a travesty. Twitter, Facebook and several forums have been buzzing with this controversy. And guess which camp I’M in?

It started when I first saw the trailer and went berserk. Then I started finding the various forums and posting on those. And finally, I found kindred spirits on Twitter and I have been tweeting bitchy, snarky comments about the movie and what I think of Burton & Co. ever since. Many have “favorited” and retweeted me. Others probably think I’m a complete pain in the ass and need a life.

An article in yesterday’s L.A. Times Calendar section fanned the flames: it was about the film and the writer’s tone toward the original show was rather condescending. Tim Burton was quoted as saying that technically, the original was “actually awful.” Some fan! I was so pissed off, I wrote an email to Calendar Letters (let’s see if they publish it). One of the stars of DS, Kathryn Leigh Scott, didn’t care for the article either, and she blogged about it (I commented to her, but didn’t include my blogsite link out of discretion). I tweeted my fool head off about it today. An example of my tweets? “So Tim Burton thinks the original Dark Shadows was awful? Mr. Burton, you can bite me. And not my neck, either.”

So what does this have to do with tonight? Connect the dots, kids. I got taken to task for being such a “trouble-maker” and “wreaking havoc all over the Internet.” Oh, good grief.

“It’s just a movie!” he said, making his point (whatever the hell that was) with the Spanking Buddy.

“It is NOT!” I screeched in indignation. “It’s a desecration of my childhood memories!” My melodrama didn’t seem to faze him.

It got progressively more ridiculous as the scene wore on, with ST saying that Tim Burton and Johnny Depp probably saw my tweets and are highly insulted, and Johnny Depp probably wants to come over and spank me. (I didn’t find that notion at all unpleasant, as long as he doesn’t wear that stupid makeup.) I snapped that Burton and Depp have better things to do than to monitor my tweets.

ST also thought I was judging too much on just a trailer and I should see the movie. “Never!” I hollered. “Not in the theater, not on Netflix, not on DVD. They’d have to pay ME to watch it.”

“You’re like a child who won’t try her peas!” he scolded. “You should try things before you decide you don’t like them.” Hey, if Tim Burton or Johnny Depp want to serve me peas, I’ll eat them. But I’m not losing two hours of my life to that piece of dreck.

Long, long battle of wills, kiddies. Finally, ST had to concede that nothing he could do would stop me from continuing with my tweets and other postings, or change my mind about the new film. But really, I should be nicer to Burton and Depp. After all, it’s the movie I hate, not them, per se. So… I had to count out 25 strap strokes and after each one, say, “I forgive Tim Burton and Johnny Depp.”

Yes, really.

I was obedient, counting out each one and repeating the phrase. But after #25, I added (very loudly), “But their movie SUCKS!!!”

I had to have the last word, didn’t I? I mean, we’re talking principle here.

(And yes, I know I’m being utterly obsessive and silly about this, but you ain’t heard nothin’ yet.)

Anyway, here I am, holding the paper with that damned article:

Notice that header, “Playing with Dark Shadows”? That’s exactly what those buttheads did. And here’s what I think of it:

I’ve already tweeted the second picture. :-Þ

All silliness aside — tonight, as always, ST managed to give me what I needed. Last week was about intensity. Tonight was about lightening up, having some laughs and just forgetting all the BS for a couple of hours.

What more could a bottom girl want, really? (Well, besides a little more respect for her show, but whatever…)

Life, continued

Home from John’s. Thank you to everyone who commented or sent me supportive tweets. They mean a lot to me.

Just to wrap up the saga from Friday, I called M today. I told John, “Don’t let me leave without calling him.” Because I knew if John weren’t there, my courage would fail. As it was, my heart was banging when I dialed the number.

It didn’t go well. He wasn’t mean, but he was cold. When I suggested that John and I come out next Saturday to have dinner with him, he said no, he’d rather not. Said he was hurt and flabbergasted by my absence and he’d just as soon not see us. I didn’t try to explain myself; I knew I couldn’t. Everything I could say would sound like a lame excuse. So I just said I’m sorry, I don’t blame him, and there was no way I could make him understand where I was coming from, so there was no use in trying. He said “I understand, I think. But I can’t condone it.”

OK. I said that’s fine, but I still want to see my mother. He said, “Well, you’d better hurry up.” Ugh. I asked how she was, and he said she’s still in the same facility, but under hospice care now. Round-the-clock care, never gets out of bed, almost never eats anything. Basically, they’re just keeping her comfortable; it could be tomorrow, or it could be next year. He goes to see her every day. Sometimes, she recognizes him.

I can’t go there during the week; there’s no way I can handle going there by myself. I will need to wait until next Saturday, when John can be with me. So I told him we would go see her then, and he asked what time. I suggested around 5:00, and he said no, they serve dinner then. (What difference does it make, if she doesn’t eat?) So I asked if 4:00 is better; he said yes, but couldn’t we come earlier? I didn’t want to mention that we take John’s mom out to lunch every Saturday; I didn’t think that would go over well. (It does make a bit of difference that John’s mom is five minutes away, versus my mother’s 70 miles.) So I just said we had things to do, and we’ll be there around 4:00.

He grudgingly said he might meet us there. He won’t commit to it, and that’s fine. If he does, he does; if he doesn’t, he doesn’t. If I’m that unforgivable, then I guess that’s that.

I managed to hold it together until I hung up, then I lost it. Thank goodness for John. He didn’t offer any platitudes or too many opinions, although I know he certainly has them. He held me close and said, “You did the best you could. I’m proud of you.” I hold that phrase very dear, and he knows it.

Made it home, in rain that was pouring down so hard, I couldn’t see. Pretty bizarre to see all of us on the freeway, normally 65 miles per hour, crawling along at 40 to avoid going into skids. It’s good to be home. Despite the wretched experience of talking to M, I’m glad I got it over with.

Tomorrow, I can have some fun. Tomorrow, I can post something fun again. Thanks for bearing with me.

Life

It’s Friday. There are things to smile about. Heading for John’s in a few hours. It’s going to rain again this weekend. I got Chrossed (and congrats to everyone else who made the grade this week). And I’m getting a nice tax refund. It’s enough to cover my annual car insurance premium, with enough leftover for… more bills. (sigh)

But I am ill at ease today, edgy and uncomfortable. It’s one of those times where I need to write it out and come clean. Today is a “Life” entry.

I have not spoken to or seen my mother in over a year. The last time we talked on the phone, she didn’t know who I was until I reminded her, and then she asked me how my brother was. It was around the same time that John was so ill, and I realized I just couldn’t handle it. Something had to give; I didn’t have enough in me to worry about both John and my mother. So I chose John, who is very much present and alive. My mother may be alive in body, but the person I knew is long gone.

For a while, I kept in touch with my stepfather. Talking with him was heartbreaking. When you’re as old as he is, most of your friends are long gone. His mind is still as sharp as ever, but his body no longer cooperates. He can no longer golf or fish, two of his passions. He has emphysema and arthritis. I do believe he sticks around purely because my mother needs him to. When I would ask him how he is, he’d answer, “Well, I’m still alive, unfortunately.”

Eventually, I stopped calling. He didn’t call me, either. I thought about him and my mother every day, but time passed. And passed. I felt bad. But the thought of talking to him, or visiting him, brought on depression and anxiety.

But this week was his birthday, and I couldn’t ignore that. So I sent him a card, and I wrote a message inside, saying that John and I would love to visit him this weekend and take him to dinner. I’d hoped that would re-establish some communication and I could go from there.

I came home from the gym to a voicemail from him. It was brief and curt. “Thanks for the card. I’m busy this Saturday, so I can’t make it. Say hi to John, and take care. Goodbye.” He didn’t suggest rescheduling for another time.

He hates me, I guess. I don’t blame him. Of course he sees me as a defector, uncaring. Self-involved. Abandoning him and my mother without a second thought.

John knows that isn’t true, bless his heart. He said, “M doesn’t understand. He can’t. He’s stuck in a miserable life, he feels lousy physically and emotionally. He doesn’t know what you go through when you see your mother, how terrified you are, how it freaks you out for days. And maybe you could be a little kinder to her now, but it’s damn hard, when she was so unkind to you for so many years.”

I know it’s not right, but I can’t help it. I AM terrified of my mother, and repulsed too. I see my future in her and it scares me half to death. I don’t want to end up like her, or like him. Polar opposites — her with all her vital organs working well but her mind shot, and him with an intact mind and a failing body, but both dragging on and on. This is no way to come to the end of a life. This fucking SUCKS.

So I run and hide, because in this area, I am a coward. And because I have so many conflicted feelings about my mother, and it’s too damn much for me.

M doesn’t see that. He just sees that I’ve disappeared. Ironically, I’ve done the thing I most hate having done to me. When I’m in flippant mode, I say, “Well, my mother made sure to let me know, in so many ways over the years, what a disappointment I was to her. I’m just fulfilling that role.” But I know what BS that is.

I know what I need to do; I need to call him. Push for making another dinner date, and follow through. Talk to him in person. And while I’m at it, visit my mother for one last time and say a proper goodbye. Tell her I’m sorry I wasn’t what she’d hoped I’d be. And that I forgive her for the legacy of criticism and feelings of inferiority. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t like herself, either.

Perhaps when I’m with John tomorrow, with his help I’ll work up the courage to make that phone call. Of course, I’ll be hoping that I get voicemail.

It’s amazing how the simplest of tasks can seem so overwhelming when your mindset is off. How the time comes to act, and you think, “Ughhhh… I’ll do it tomorrow.” And before you know it, several tomorrows have elapsed.

But hopefully tomorrow will be the last tomorrow where I say “I’ll do it tomorrow.” And if you could follow that, congratulations.

Thanks for listening. Have a great weekend, y’all.

I see the light!

On Monday’s blog, I posted a photo I had very amateurly censored in Picasa Picnik, with an icon of NO with a circle and slash. I figured it served its purpose, somewhat, even though it was a bit goofy.

One of my friends decided my rendition detracted from the photo’s esthetics. By his own admission, he has too much time on his hands, and he offered me a couple of Photoshopped alternatives. The second one made me laugh out loud, so I thought I’d share it.

Whaddaya know — there IS a light at the end of the tunnel.

(ducking the tomatoes)

In other news, Pink sent me a link this morning. If you think my Correspondence Hall of Shame entries are outrageous, wait until you get a load of this. Put down all your beverages. You might also want to don a helmet, in case your head explodes. Go here, and enjoy.

How’s everyone’s week so far? You know, I’ve noticed something I’m calling the Wednesday rebound. On Tuesdays, I’m usually quite mellow and happy, basking in the afterglow of Monday night’s activities. Then on Wednesday, I crash back into reality. Just about everyone and everything irritates me and I crave attention fiercely. So be kind to a crazy attention whore and leave me some love, will ya? Thanks! 😀  Happy Hump Day.