Monday, September 08, 2003
oho! i was blown off!
somehow, knowing that i was going to pedal into the city to keep a social engagement with someone i don't know so well but wished i had before i moved but now i can't because he emailed and cancelled (apparently unaware that this really is steven's last night in town and i passed up better tickets to have his coffee date)--somehow, i feel less anxious and awful.
why with the anxious and awful? why am i feeling like i've left something out in the rain and am far too lazy to successfully graduate from this city?
***
i got my hair cut the other day. here in my real home town, at the salon where my mother goes.
my mom's been . . . feisty, in the last couple of years. she seems ardently depressed, and the largest symptom appears to be that she's made some sort of blood pact to prove to anyone listening that she is happy, fulfilled and correct. that, and she gets angry all the time. i can only imagine how she's surviving at work--state government would turn the calmest, smartest people into bats, and it's turning my mother into That Woman everyone talks about in the water cooler. maybe the heart-turningest example is her failing relationship with a young man she used to mentor, a sweet Mormon dad who gratefully appreciated her being his champion until she became so tough to work with that he spoke harshly to her. i think she probably appears . . . condescending, and inflexible.
anyway. she switched hair guys at some point, and i think it was because she knocked heads with christian the hairdresser. how my mum interacts with hair is emblematic of her greater life. she is convinced that she used to have great hair and now doesn't, and that she keeps asking for the same, known quantity and is foiled by people who have somehow lost their competence. that, and she's now this fiesty person who is sure she knows stuff.
this means the hair guy wanted to talk about my mom. and we did a little in the sort of, hair guy/client pally chatter. he's a nice guy, but really likes to hear himself speak. he shared a personal story about finding out his dad is hugely racist, which he didn't suspect growing up. i shared a story about how my mother once stopped speaking to me because she found out i stopped shaving my legs.
he started giggling and his eyes half-closed, and he kept saying, "i'm gonna have to ask your mom about that one."
to my suprise, i felt really bad. like i'd sold her out. was i thinking that outing her to some dumb hair guy was going to make me feel better?
really, the whole story is very small. it's just, i'd like her to be happy. more than that, i would like her just to start working to be happy. or recognize what's going on. because each time i come back it takes longer and longer to get into her core, past the makeup and the talk about dogs and cars and the involved stories about who's screwing her over at work. a very old friend asked how she was the other day, and i had nothing to say. she's sad, i said. and she thinks that's all there is.
i'd like to help.
somehow, knowing that i was going to pedal into the city to keep a social engagement with someone i don't know so well but wished i had before i moved but now i can't because he emailed and cancelled (apparently unaware that this really is steven's last night in town and i passed up better tickets to have his coffee date)--somehow, i feel less anxious and awful.
why with the anxious and awful? why am i feeling like i've left something out in the rain and am far too lazy to successfully graduate from this city?
***
i got my hair cut the other day. here in my real home town, at the salon where my mother goes.
my mom's been . . . feisty, in the last couple of years. she seems ardently depressed, and the largest symptom appears to be that she's made some sort of blood pact to prove to anyone listening that she is happy, fulfilled and correct. that, and she gets angry all the time. i can only imagine how she's surviving at work--state government would turn the calmest, smartest people into bats, and it's turning my mother into That Woman everyone talks about in the water cooler. maybe the heart-turningest example is her failing relationship with a young man she used to mentor, a sweet Mormon dad who gratefully appreciated her being his champion until she became so tough to work with that he spoke harshly to her. i think she probably appears . . . condescending, and inflexible.
anyway. she switched hair guys at some point, and i think it was because she knocked heads with christian the hairdresser. how my mum interacts with hair is emblematic of her greater life. she is convinced that she used to have great hair and now doesn't, and that she keeps asking for the same, known quantity and is foiled by people who have somehow lost their competence. that, and she's now this fiesty person who is sure she knows stuff.
this means the hair guy wanted to talk about my mom. and we did a little in the sort of, hair guy/client pally chatter. he's a nice guy, but really likes to hear himself speak. he shared a personal story about finding out his dad is hugely racist, which he didn't suspect growing up. i shared a story about how my mother once stopped speaking to me because she found out i stopped shaving my legs.
he started giggling and his eyes half-closed, and he kept saying, "i'm gonna have to ask your mom about that one."
to my suprise, i felt really bad. like i'd sold her out. was i thinking that outing her to some dumb hair guy was going to make me feel better?
really, the whole story is very small. it's just, i'd like her to be happy. more than that, i would like her just to start working to be happy. or recognize what's going on. because each time i come back it takes longer and longer to get into her core, past the makeup and the talk about dogs and cars and the involved stories about who's screwing her over at work. a very old friend asked how she was the other day, and i had nothing to say. she's sad, i said. and she thinks that's all there is.
i'd like to help.
