barking dog, menopausal mother
it's the new short film i'm working on, using the title style dynamics of crouching tiger, hidden dragon. i think it could go far.
it's a relatively simple plotline.
my mother is in menopause. this essentially means that if a cricket looked at her the wrong way, she would make a point of correcting such disrespectful behaviour by launching an atomic bomb into its coordinates so that kind of thing would never, ever interfere with her day again.
what she doesn't realize is that there are approximately 19672 crickets in her day, and about 70% of them are going to look at her the wrong way.
and her heart will explode if she bombs every single one with her unbelievably large reserve of rage.
i swear, i have no idea how to act around her anymore. i have tried everything! including the following:
- being nice to her no matter what
- hugging her at all costs
- letting her have her space
- being softspoken and patient
- thinking she secretly wants me to freak out and be as crazy as she is, so doing that
----> learning that only escalates her rage (somehow) into the elite upper echelon of angry ranting
----------> sheepishly returning to being softspoken and patient, now enduring cries from my mother that i must, after this show of behaviour, have multiple personalities or be severely bipolar
- leaving the room and deciding to try a new strategy tomorrow
(the last one is my favourite one)
a massive drawback of the last strategy is that we both coexist in a tiny apartment, cluttered with her stuff, and my bedroom is the couch.
there is essentially only one place to run from baba yaga.
and i can't stay in the bathroom forever. that's just weird.
want to know how many times i've thought i actually have multiple personalities? just because it seemed like a valid theory at the time? i really would like it not to be true. i think i'm pretty sane most of the time. and definitely more logical in my actions than she is.
anyway, on a night like tonight, the dog next door is out on the balcony because his negligent drug dealer owners are probably higher than kites and are sick of being around their pet. my mother's bedroom is right beside their balcony. as a result of her location, the dog barks into her open window. i can't help but laugh at her talking to the dog, telling it to shut the eff up so she can go to sleep
it's a relatively simple plotline.
my mother is in menopause. this essentially means that if a cricket looked at her the wrong way, she would make a point of correcting such disrespectful behaviour by launching an atomic bomb into its coordinates so that kind of thing would never, ever interfere with her day again.
what she doesn't realize is that there are approximately 19672 crickets in her day, and about 70% of them are going to look at her the wrong way.
and her heart will explode if she bombs every single one with her unbelievably large reserve of rage.
i swear, i have no idea how to act around her anymore. i have tried everything! including the following:
- being nice to her no matter what
- hugging her at all costs
- letting her have her space
- being softspoken and patient
- thinking she secretly wants me to freak out and be as crazy as she is, so doing that
----> learning that only escalates her rage (somehow) into the elite upper echelon of angry ranting
----------> sheepishly returning to being softspoken and patient, now enduring cries from my mother that i must, after this show of behaviour, have multiple personalities or be severely bipolar
- leaving the room and deciding to try a new strategy tomorrow
(the last one is my favourite one)
a massive drawback of the last strategy is that we both coexist in a tiny apartment, cluttered with her stuff, and my bedroom is the couch.
there is essentially only one place to run from baba yaga.
and i can't stay in the bathroom forever. that's just weird.
want to know how many times i've thought i actually have multiple personalities? just because it seemed like a valid theory at the time? i really would like it not to be true. i think i'm pretty sane most of the time. and definitely more logical in my actions than she is.
anyway, on a night like tonight, the dog next door is out on the balcony because his negligent drug dealer owners are probably higher than kites and are sick of being around their pet. my mother's bedroom is right beside their balcony. as a result of her location, the dog barks into her open window. i can't help but laugh at her talking to the dog, telling it to shut the eff up so she can go to sleep