Thursday, March 11, 2004

So here's how it goes. You might have noticed that lately, I've been "Otherwise Not-Depressed." (Or, SAD stands for "Sultrily Aghast at Deliberation!") So my mom just came back from her one-week trip to Spain ("Hello Marzipan, it's the King of Spain..." sorry, only I find that funny) and I realized, well, how much I don't miss her. (What a poorly constructed paragraph!)

(yes, my over-parenthesizingleizllesomething is due to my self-consciousness today. Deal.)

While I was gone (I decided to innanely blog about my cats!), I realized that I... didn't miss her. Which is to say, I didn't miss having somebody remind me of my homework every five minutes, and that I didn't miss having somebody note every dust speck on the floor. (Both untrue, but you know what I mean; I'm seventeen. Who knows what I'll blog about when I'm eighteen.) So my cats! You see.. (new paragraph)

My cats are really from outer space. And my dog, but I think he's just from a distant moon. You see, my cats have turf wars. I know, all cats have raging marking-the-furniture scaling-up-my-kitchen-for-possible-strongholds territorial conflicts (at least nobody's building a wall, Jesus), but these conflicts... they're emotional.

The first cat, whom we shall call.... erm.... Lucas, really likes my mom. Not because she's my mom, but because she's human, she stands on two legs and animates. Most importantly, his previous owner was a very strange and brilliant woman who... dissappeared and was presumed dead. (Ouch...) (new paragraph! Goddamn it, Leticia, can you stay on one subject?! You're blowing all your good material on one post. Shame on you.)

She has all these paintings... there in my garage now. She was so traumatized that she kept doing saccharin-sweet paintings of babies, cats, babies and cats, kittens, flowers, and the only honest one is a creepy abstract jumble of faces that my mom's art therapist thinks indicate multiple personality disorder. But anyway!

(Those paintings scare the shit out of you-- seriously. They're so sweet, their sinister, and I'm not lying here; there's an unmistakable aura that says that a giant robot is about to drop from the sky and hammer you into oblivion. They're like something from a Zelda boss; except it would have to be American McGee's Zelda and everything is stained with blood. Eeeuugghhh...)

So this cat, Lucas, went through several owners after the dissappearance of his first because he is a traumatized cat, for reasons we have been unable to ascertain, and he yowls like a mofo. After waking me up at 6am, he went sailing down the laundry chute (no, not really--but don't think I didn't entertain the thought) many, many mornings. He ran away once, only to return, skinnier, wanting food.

Okay, the whole point of this fucking story is that Lucas curls up into my mom's lap... like a baby. I'm dead fucking serious. He wraps his paws around her expecting her to breathe the universe. And... and...

I know I've written about my whole mother-figure complex, and about how fake my relationship with my mom is, but-- if I were more honest with my mom, I wouldn't be jealous of a fucking cat and his emotional intimacy.

And so the real point of this whole story (anecdotes of my cats' ongoing deathmatches will have to come later, I've bit off more than I can chew) is that my mom finally came back and told me the straight truth about this trimester's college schedules.

I will be going to three different campuses to take four different classes. Every day, a new campus.

I blew up at her. I went fucking nuts. I ranted about what a dust speck I'm going to be, shuffled through all my various classes every single day, without a care for who Leticia the person is in any one situation, much less three at once. I'm going to be worth nothing to the universe at large, I'm going to come home with tears in my eyes every day because after class, I have nobody to hang out with but Sonic The Hedgehog and cohorts as I attempt to save the universe for the umpteen billionth time.

I have never, not once, been this emotionally naked in the presence of my mother. Ever. I kind of thought I would just collapse, everything my being was founded on would reverse itself into dark matter and I'd be sucked into another dimension. But instead... sympathy. What, you know, I need.

Who invented this fucking relationship, anyway?! I'm going to find the person who invented the teenage mother-daughter relationship and wring his fucking neck. Moving on...

So I do have the knowledge that my mother is a good person, and that she'd give me anything I'd need from her if I'd just open that trap of mine and discard my pride. But instead, I keep this linguistic barrier around myself; I make lots of witty (according to her) jokes and tell silly stories and describe Great Moments in American Politics, but I never tell her what's going on inside my cranium, and she doesn't expect me to, being seventeen and all. So when she's at home, I'm always on my guard, keeping her at a safe emotional distance so that the foundation upon which our relationship is built will not falter.

Problem is, the foundation is made of Play-Doh and I have a tendancy to keep putting more on in an attempt to fix the problem. Problem is, (er, second problem is) I'm... running out of material. Seriously. When your relationship with your mom is based on entertaining her (I'm... serious), you need new jokes to keep it alive. Today, I was spaced out, I had no jokes that were even remotely funny. I felt more vulnerable than I have in my life. She coulda knocked me over with a feather. I was hopeless. I had just revealed my giant glowing weak point that every giant robot seems to have. (What obsession does Leticia have with giant robots? Find out next time...)

So anyway! The whole point of this story is... um... brush your veggies and eat your teeth. Yeah. That's it.

No no no! Wait, I remember. The whole point of this story is that, on the bus this morning, I made up a whole episode for a Sonic animated series (my wet dream as a writer), and got bored and even storyboarded the first scene (featuring emotional drama between Sonic and Tails; I'm more intimate with those characters than anybody in the world, believe you me), and I was about to show her when she changed the subject. Waaaah?! Mommy, I drew you a picture! MOMMY, I DREW YOU A FUCKING PICTURE! LOOK AT MY FUCKING PICTURE, DAMMIT! IT HAS HEDGEHOGS AND FOXES AND CUTE SQUIRRELS AND THEY SAVE THE WORLD AND EAT CANDY AND


(Suzy: Sorry to inform you that Leticia McKenzie has exploded. However, I'm having a naked luau soon and we can all eat Leticia Stew once I've gathered up her fragmented carcass. Yum, yum. Oooh, I better season it with nutmeg... tasty... Leticia tastes like turkey...)
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