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Writer's Island:Then she found me; completion–after I intruded

April 29, 2008 By pia

I thought the Writer’s Island prompt on Helen Hunt’s new movie rather serendipitous. I love Helen Hunt–except for the year there seemed to be only three actors–her, Kevin Spacey and Nic Cage
Then because writing this thoroughly depressed me and it’s cool and very windy out I wrote using the other prompt “outrageous.” But for me that’s commonplace.

She was expecting me to be married not divorced. She was expecting me to have children not be childless. She was expecting me to complete her. To be the one to live the life she could only dream of.

She refused to understand that the life I was living was one I had chosen. Unlike her I had degrees, and a life not centered around parents wants and wishes.

I didn’t just have desires, and dreams but plans and action. I had a professional career. One that had stopped being satisfying. I needed as much love as I could get from as many people who were willing to love me. I sort of understood that my semi-breakdown the year before and the resultant tests that typed me “learning disabled to the max” had knocked some life out of me.

Still I tried. Still I functioned. I wanted desperately to like her. I wanted desperately for her to like me. I didn’t act needy. That had never been my style. Neediness made and makes me uncomfortable. I might have acted the opposite. No guidebook told me what to do. I had no experience in matters such as this.

Unlike today there weren’t coaches who guided you through every step. My luck–to be a pioneer in the modern age. It’s a constant battle and I’m never truly sure why. It was the 80’s. Oh sweet beloved 80’s, so much of my life happened then. You weren’t sweet, really but beloved–even the horrible was good. I was young and pretty. Looks counted with everybody but her; she made it clear she didn’t like my looks. She refused to be seen in public with me. Not because I was ugly but because I was the image of her mother. But her mother was pretty and I was…..

She would find me selfish for running into and then out of her life. It wasn’t me she desired but some perfect creature I could never be nor aspired to be. She was the one who lived in a dream land

I had a choice. I didn’t have to call her “mother.” And so I didn’t.

The woman I called “ma” to be sort of snarky or “mommy” most of the time had that honor. And she was honored to love imperfect me.
Uh, dear email, radio, TV and more–since Easter I have been bombarded with Mother’s Day ads. The only mother I care about is dead; I have no children, and usually don’t care. But I spend a lot of time hanging out with and giving presents to other peoples children. I have gotten one present from one girl–ever and it was lovely, but Mother’s Day is a day I suppose I should sleep through.
People are looking at my apartment though it isn’t selling. I will take it off the market in June if nothing happens.
I just looked at my Technorati for the first time in many months. I have no screen shots of when I was a 2,500-5,7000 rated blogger, so who would believe it? Guess you had to be there.
Is this “outrageous” enough or is just me as usual?
I was never physically addicted to cigarettes. Basically I liked having them around and holding them and sometimes lighting them and sometimes smoking them. I would feel dirty and scuzzy if I gave into this urge but…..picture.jpg This is me with my parents when they were old and I had late 80’s hair as opposed to mid 80’s hair which was bigger. We had just had a Passover for about 40. It was to be our family’s last one but we didn’t know that then

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Adoption

« America–the Bush years
Ferocious, she would call her love »

Comments

  1. AnthonyNorth says

    April 29, 2008 at 6:42 pm

    A heartfelt post. Beautifully reflective, questioning; what blogs were made for.

  2. paisley says

    April 29, 2008 at 10:27 pm

    nice nice.. i was waiting to hear a little bit more about your mom.. this was a beautiful post.. so lifelike and real… i loved it…..

  3. Jane Doe says

    April 30, 2008 at 5:32 am

    Beautifully written! Thanks for sharing.

  4. raghav says

    April 30, 2008 at 7:47 am

    very nice post. well written great touch on the ads that make every emotion turn materialistic

  5. Doug says

    April 30, 2008 at 5:52 pm

    Yes, vintage Pia. Thank you.

    I was there when you were a 2,500 technorati blogger gal. If anyone doubts you, send them to me.

  6. G says

    April 30, 2008 at 11:10 pm

    Doug, that’s worked in the past, no? 😉

    Pia, love the story – both prompted and the little afterlude (perhaps that’s a made up word). You’ll always be a cover girl to me.

  7. sage says

    April 30, 2008 at 11:13 pm

    Nicely written Pia. I wanted to see the pic blown up–to see you and parents–but it doesn’t get any larger.

  8. cooper says

    May 1, 2008 at 2:27 am

    That was beautiful.

    There is really no cause to fret about technorati as the past is just that. If one is not prone to participating in all the memes and viral linkage which has taken over and actually given most bloggers their ranks over the last year one must just not look at it.

    To sit around all day commenting on blogs which have “do follow” signs on them to be sure to get a link, and to remind everyone constantly to link to you and trade links and favor you is a full time job, and there are millions of people now sitting home all day doing just that.

  9. jacob says

    May 2, 2008 at 12:25 pm

    top notch as usual, this will be one of my favorites.

    I appreciate the reminder on Mother’s Day too.

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About Me

I live in the South, not South Florida, a few blocks from the ocean, and two blocks from the main street. It's called Main Street. Amazes me too.

I'm from New York. I mostly lived in the Mid-Upper East Side, and the heart of the Upper West Side. It amazes me when people talk about how scared they were of Times Square in the 1970's and 1980's.

As my mother said: "know the streets, look out and you'll be fine."

What was scary was the invasion of the crack dens into "good buildings in good 'hoods." And the greedy landlords who did everything they could to get good tenants out of buildings.

I'm a Long Island girl, and proud of it now.
Then I hated everything about the suburbs. Yet somehow I lived in a few great Long Island Sound towns after high school.

Go to archives "August 2004" if you want to begin with the first posts.

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