this has all been self-fulfilling, really
We know I'm not chatty. That's been established, I hope. Even if it's not obvious from a blogging standpoint, people who know me in real life ought to know. My own parents ought to be aware. They pretty much hog conversations, so I'm a far better listener than a conversationalist. So it goes.
So why the hell is my mother writing this shit to me?
"Just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. Feel like I must have."
OK, so part of my reaction is bullshit; I know why she's writing that. She's writing that because I haven't called and I don't respond to every inane comment she makes on my Twitter feed, and this is her last-ditch guilt-trip prompt for a response.
But why does she have to lay it on this thick? I don't feel like calling, because I have nothing to say and nothing I want to share. Why don't I want to share? I'm pretty sure anything I share will be doubted, damned with faint praise, or I'll get the inquisition. "Oh, you're doing that? When did you decide to do that?"
So now I really should not be calling, because I have nothing nice to say.
I'm in too much of a mood, and not just because of this, honestly; I've spent too much time reading Huffington Post over this past week and it's left me even more bitter than the usual.
I just have no ideal response for her email. To borrow from Hot Chip, "I'm in no fit state."
Also, I'm not exactly burning up my phone minutes talking to anyone else either. I'm terrible about calling everyone. The last time I called my dad was at the end of January--and that was for specific advice, not to shoot the hay.
See, I wasn't mad before. Now I'm kind of mad.
So why the hell is my mother writing this shit to me?
"Just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. Feel like I must have."
OK, so part of my reaction is bullshit; I know why she's writing that. She's writing that because I haven't called and I don't respond to every inane comment she makes on my Twitter feed, and this is her last-ditch guilt-trip prompt for a response.
But why does she have to lay it on this thick? I don't feel like calling, because I have nothing to say and nothing I want to share. Why don't I want to share? I'm pretty sure anything I share will be doubted, damned with faint praise, or I'll get the inquisition. "Oh, you're doing that? When did you decide to do that?"
So now I really should not be calling, because I have nothing nice to say.
I'm in too much of a mood, and not just because of this, honestly; I've spent too much time reading Huffington Post over this past week and it's left me even more bitter than the usual.
I just have no ideal response for her email. To borrow from Hot Chip, "I'm in no fit state."
Also, I'm not exactly burning up my phone minutes talking to anyone else either. I'm terrible about calling everyone. The last time I called my dad was at the end of January--and that was for specific advice, not to shoot the hay.
See, I wasn't mad before. Now I'm kind of mad.