Rambling, in hopes that I find a conclusion.
Yesterday afternoon, Mom called to ask what college fees were, etc., and updated me on the company as well as her boat-searching endeavors. I felt like a squirming little kid, anticipating the moment she asks about my super-productive day at work.
"Well, honey, I've gotta go. I have a nail appointment.
After 17 minutes (yeah yeah, I looked at the phone time) of her rambles: "The business is doing so well! We're expanding!...This boat looks great, we're going to put $X down on it... You know your father and I...myself...my life...", she didn't ask.
Well, maybe she forgot?
I knew she had an appointment, so I wasn't going to be rude, "Hey, Mom, wanna hear a brief about my morning at work?"
"Sorry, honey. I've gotta go to this appointment. How about I call you later?"
"Sure, Mom." But of course I squeezed in a few things because I was excited, "I really impressed my boss today and I'll be in court with her on Wednesday!"
She didn't call me back. Which, you know, is fine. I was just looking forward to the call, that's all. The main point is that it happened again, just with my roommate. For the purposes of this journal I'll call her Janel, since privacy is fun (funfunfun!).
Janel came to the apartment, sat down her things, and I asked her how dinner went with the theater apartment. She filled me in on in, shared the jokes, told me who was there (or at least who I knew of all of them), and the beer she drank. She talked about how she was a beer snob for a while, then how people were discussing how big her boobs were in the theater department... then she started to watch TV. Hah, it was then that I finished my pathetic statements about my day (8.5 hours after Mom's phone call). She didn't seem to give a rat's ass; perhaps she was still feeling wooed by a man she met in the bar, or was still gleaming about the attention she received about her boobs.
My other roomie, Helen (once again, for the purposes of this journal) thinks that I give Janel the benefit of the doubt too often, always making excuses for her: "She's an only child; She only knows how to talk to one person at a time; She just needs a boyfriend..." Truth is, I really give her too many excuses, and I don't know why.
I feel this is an ongoing theme in my life: justifying the actions of others that hurt me the most.
"Well, honey, I've gotta go. I have a nail appointment.
After 17 minutes (yeah yeah, I looked at the phone time) of her rambles: "The business is doing so well! We're expanding!...This boat looks great, we're going to put $X down on it... You know your father and I...myself...my life...", she didn't ask.
Well, maybe she forgot?
I knew she had an appointment, so I wasn't going to be rude, "Hey, Mom, wanna hear a brief about my morning at work?"
"Sorry, honey. I've gotta go to this appointment. How about I call you later?"
"Sure, Mom." But of course I squeezed in a few things because I was excited, "I really impressed my boss today and I'll be in court with her on Wednesday!"
She didn't call me back. Which, you know, is fine. I was just looking forward to the call, that's all. The main point is that it happened again, just with my roommate. For the purposes of this journal I'll call her Janel, since privacy is fun (funfunfun!).
Janel came to the apartment, sat down her things, and I asked her how dinner went with the theater apartment. She filled me in on in, shared the jokes, told me who was there (or at least who I knew of all of them), and the beer she drank. She talked about how she was a beer snob for a while, then how people were discussing how big her boobs were in the theater department... then she started to watch TV. Hah, it was then that I finished my pathetic statements about my day (8.5 hours after Mom's phone call). She didn't seem to give a rat's ass; perhaps she was still feeling wooed by a man she met in the bar, or was still gleaming about the attention she received about her boobs.
My other roomie, Helen (once again, for the purposes of this journal) thinks that I give Janel the benefit of the doubt too often, always making excuses for her: "She's an only child; She only knows how to talk to one person at a time; She just needs a boyfriend..." Truth is, I really give her too many excuses, and I don't know why.
I feel this is an ongoing theme in my life: justifying the actions of others that hurt me the most.