OrionRionIonOnN's Xanga

Becoming Uninfatuated with My Mother

Sat, 05 Jan 2008 19:02:24 GMT

I have long suspected that I have an infatuation of sorts with my mother. After overcoming the inital "ew factor" of this incestuous realization, I truly think this is a veritable statement. Recently, while we were both mixing our morning vitamins, I said to her that I thought one of them was actually increasing my weight, rather than helping me to keep it down and manage it. She said that maybe I should not take it anymore, then. A logical conclusion, but I think it was fueled by the conversation we had a few days prior when I mused aloud why the company never made a value size version of the same supplement; she agreed and questioned my personal need for it, which implied negatively to me that I did not need it and should not take it. I think that at the second and more recent incident, she was trying to discourage me from taking it so that she could keep more for herself, which is fine as we are all fueled by our own desires, but could we not order more? We have been taking them for over 10 years, so she has been ordering the smaller version for as long as she has been taking it. And in fact, I believe this to be her most subtle, but strongest quality: My mother always acts for her own ends. Before I launch into a tirade against her, though, I have to establish my own position. That is, my infatuation. How is it that I think I am infatuated with her?

I feel that I do not treat her as a son should, with love and respect, but rather, as someone to use for my ends (i.e., banking :D, cooking, cleaning, etc.). This is a bit more harsh than I mean it to sound, but the idea is the same, that is, I have acted as an employer, and not a very good one at that. However, while I may use her for my own devices, she still holds a matronly authority over me. I still feel an obligation to do her bidding, however begrudgingly, and I still feel a need to care for her, however ineptly. It's as if I've put her on a pedestal and used it as a footstool. And in fact, through this hazy fog of utility and concern, I have been blind to all her faults, though she has many. After all, she may be mom, businesswoman, wife, and sister, but in the end, she is still just another human being. And what is it that makes us human if not our faults?

While I am certainly an amalgam (What a difficult word to spell!) of my parents' personalities, there are many times I feel more like her and in fact, imitate her actions exactly. There was this one time that my mother and father got into a very heated altercation and my mom banged on the bathroom counter with her hand or something, screaming some words best not repeated here. And in an almost exact reenactment of the scene, the next time my father and I fought, I did the exact same thing, saying almost the exact same words. If I could learn to eat and bathe from her, would it not follow that I would learn to argue from her? And is imitation not the highest form of flattery?

It's a difficult and complex thing, the mother-son relationship. Most of us know of Freud's cogitation on the subject, that is, the Oedipus complex. Oedipus, the crown-prince of Thebes, was sentenced to death to prevent the fulfillment of a prophecy in which he would murder his father and marry his mother, but instead, after being hung feetwise from a tree, was found by a passing peasant and adopted by another king, after which he returned and unknowingly killed his father, saved Thebes from a riddling cat, married his mother and had FOUR children by her. After finding out the truth, his mother-wife-queen killed herself, he blinded himself, and his children all went on to die notorious deaths. On top of all this, he had swollen feet from when the inobedient herdsman who was supposed to kill him in the first place did not, and instead, hung him by his feet from a tree, thereby inadvertently bestowing his name of "Swollen Feet" upon him. No wonder the Greeks were so adamant to create a myth about not sleeping with your parents! (Don't worry, they have a similar story, and thus, a similar complex for girls, too. There's no sex, but there's definitely violence with Electra.)

Regardless, the Oedipus complex is about perceiving one's father as an opponent vying for the affection of one's mother, and in fact, there is a further train of thought on how this leads to homosexuality, neurosis, and pedophilia, but these are discussions for another time :). It's true that I have always been at odds with my father and retreated to my mother. Does this mean I want to kill him and have children with her? No. But does it create a tense situation in which I am constantly arguing with my dad and f orever mistreating my mom? Yes.

Fortunately, I think this fog of infatuation is lifting and the incestuous cumulonimbus are scurrying away. Like the time my dad and I argued and I laid in my bed to cry and I think I called her in and she lay beside me and I just continued to whimper and she asked in a nasty tone if I just called her in to listen to me cry. Or how she used to send my sister away to a governess because she was busy with her salons. As I start to remember memories such as these and remind myself that she too is human, I think I can learn to respect and love her more. I think it really is like what we learned in high school psychology, that is, one learns to love another in spite of that person's faults, not in ignorance of them. More and more, I am correcting myself in my bratty and spoiled ways with my mother. I say thank you, I hug her, I question my flares of temper with her, I buy her gifts, I do my chores without being told to, I do puzzles with her, etc. While I am nowhere near where I would like to be in our relationship, I know that we will one day be able to tell our own myth of mother and son with tears of joy and blood shed of love.

PS - On a similar, but tangential note, I think that my relationship with my manager at the hotel echoes that between my mother and I. She is a middle-aged Asian woman with a fierce, indepedent personality, married to a husband she loves but unsure of why, and religiously devoted to her children. Both are honest, great saleswoman, and pretty in pink. In fact, I think I just wrote a description of my mother. Am I infatuated with my boss? Possibly. Is it incestuous? Fortunately not, though office romances between a gay, committed twentysomething and straight, married fortysomething usually end up in the newspaper and not in the wedding section :).

Taking Stock

Sun, 16 Dec 2007 21:01:22 GMT

You know, before the year-end inundation of people reflecting, I thought I'd take some quick time right now to do some introspectin' myself.

Mirror, mirror hanging on the wall...

(In the Zara fitting room at Menlo. I think I have a future as a fashion photographer, no :)?)

1) Got a new job at the Holiday Inn. OK pay, sales and middle management experience, knowledgeable and experienced manager, hospitality industry. All in all, a good move.

2) Earned my first commission check from MA! Went through the pay cycle once and promoted to Executive Coordinator. Very proud of myself.

3) Moving on with my romantic life. More fish in the sea. Learn to not be such a jealous betch :).

4) Bought a new bed. When I find the right setting, it's perrrrfect. Love my new pilow, too. Fluffy and supportive :).

5) Made new friends and acquaintances. Trying to not be so uptight (haha, good luck!). Trying to figure myself out (Who dat?).

I think I have definitely made strides in my self-confidence, both in my personality and in my professional life. What I want to still do is take more chances and risk more of myself. I think I wear my emotions a little too much on the outside, but I'm afraid to just let loose and be myself. I calculate my responses and then when my emotions take over, they dominate the situation. I do not want to be that person.

Other than that, I'm happy with myself and where I am going. I think I deserve a muffin.

He Shoots, He Misses

Tue, 25 Sep 2007 22:39:33 GMT

The other day, someone cut me off. And you know what I did? I cut him right back. Am I such a vengeful person? It occurred to me that I may be one who keeps a scoreboard on the people in his life. Some of us, like my boss and my mom, do not. They have infinite patience even when their employee-son has failed or hurt them many times over. Their compassion is an ever-pouring fountain.

However, for the rest of us, I do not believe we are so forgiving. We are petty, we are rash. When someone cuts us off, we cut him off. When someone stabs our eye or chips our tooth, we stab her eye or chip his tooth. We track and tally, bite and claw.

So if there is a scoreboard, then how do we keep score?

I feel that when I say "Please" to someone, it puts me in a position of weakness. For me, perhaps it's so painful and I am so forgetful in saying it because I do not like the bitter taste of submission. However, I know that when someone says it to me, I am in a position of power. So when I say "Please" to someone, am I giving that person a point?

If so, then I think a "Thank you" is a one-pointer. It levels the playing field. It's like bringing the ball back to half-court. We are balanced again and the power shifts back in the middle.

But if "Thank you" is a one-pointer, then there is one phrase I believe to be a three-pointer: "I'm sorry." If "Please" drives a wall between people and "Thank you" paves the way, then I think "I'm sorry," builds a bridge. In all my life, rarely have I ever said "I'm sorry" to my mom or dad. No matter how much I hurt them, I have not found it in me to swallow my pride and utter the words.

In fact, my friend told me the other day that he had once said something very hurtful to his mom. It somehow came up again several years later and she said that that was the only thing that he had done to hurt her. When he told her he was sorry, she bawled. How great is the pain we incur simply by failing to apologize for our actions.

So tallying up my score, I would say I'm not doing so well. Over the course of 23 years, I have built a very high wall between my mom and myself, my dad and myself. I can hear the shot clock ticking down, so the question is, do I shoot or do I pass?

Culture-dating

Tue, 25 Sep 2007 22:15:04 GMT

Have you ever been culture-dated before? You know what I'm talking about.

You're having a really funny conversation with someone, and it's rolling along, when all of a sudden, you bring up Vanilla Ice's song and how it was such a sample and the other person says, "Who?"

That's culture-dating.

Or maybe you're a teacher and you tell your kids to write an essay on the greatest inventions of the 20th century. One kid (who needs to learn how to mind his own business) asks you to make some suggestions, and you suggest the Internet, and he says, "Didn't they always have Internet?"

That's culture-dating.

It's like carbon-dating, but with culture. You make a pop culture reference and all you see is a blank stare. You suggest a hit song and someone's nose wrinkles like you just laid one. You reminisce about a TV show and someone remembers seeing a cast member's out-of-work ass on "Dancing with the Stars." If you haven't been culture-dated, don't worry. You will.

The First Sign Is Standardization...

Tue, 25 Sep 2007 21:30:05 GMT

I'm taking a page from Robyn's blog. She says titles like, "My Day at the Dentist," and "How I Spent My Winter Vacation," are not attractive enough, so I hope mine grabs your attention somewhat. In case that didn't, the subtitle is: The Apocalypse Is Coming and Its Name Is Standardization.

Think about it. Barcodes. Oneness. Sameness. Gray suits. Women with hair buns. Dress codes. Lack of diversity. Mixing. Melting pot. Racial purity. Interchangeable parts. Franchising. Systemization. Everyone's unique. "Everyone's a super." Leveled playing fields. In the name of science. Why can't we all just get along? Be like me. Conformity. Non-conformist conformist. Just be. Fashion yes, fashion no. Fascism. Neo-Nazism. Hip-hop-rock. Pop-rap. Mixed race. Asian Fusion. Standardized testing. Certification. One size fits all. Bureaucracy. Specialization to the nth degree. Medical records in chips. Computerization. Mass production. We all fall down.

Cruisin'

Sat, 15 Sep 2007 16:23:17 GMT

"Please, slow down."

I didn't answer her. I checked my left sideview mirror, hit my blinker and switched into the lane. We were making good time.

"Ken. Are you listening to me?"

I canceled the cruise control, dropping the speedometer to 74. The engine let out a disgruntled sigh.

"So are you going to get a job? You graduated two years ago."

"No. Well, I was thinking about working in counseling. I don't think I'm cut out for teaching, but I still want to work with children. I don't know."

"I see."

"What I really want to do is event planning and producing stuff. You know, like I did in college. I really like organizing events."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. But I don't know how to break into it. And I don't think I'm qualified. I guess I'm just confused. I just can't wait to retire and be done with this. I want to live on a farm somewhere, you know, like self-sustaining. Just me, the stars, the fields, the animals."

"Heh, it's funny, I guess. I grew up pretty much in a semi-self-sustaining household where we raised some livestock and had our own business and fished and all that, and we worked hard, but we always had enough. And then your dad and I bring you here so that you can have a great education and get a good job and not have to work so hard, and when you retire, what you want to do is go back to what I had."

"Heh, I guess that's what they call a vicious cycle. Or a bad case of 'the grass is greener.'"

"Yeah."

The speedometer had crawled up to 79. I crouched forward with my foot on the gas, leaning into the windshield.

"Ken. Relax."

"I am relaxed." I let go of the steering wheel; the color returned to my whitened knuckles. "I just can't take going this slow."

"We're doing 80 in a 65 miles per hour zone. You're 15 miles per hour over the speed limit."

"Thank you, I can do the math. And we're doing 79. It says so right here."

"OK, yeah, whatever, 79. The point is, please slow down."

I took my foot off the gas pedal.

"Thank you." She paused. "So where is this place we're going again? What're we taking?"

"Oh, I didn't print out the map. But I know it. We take like 440 to 495 or something like that. And then it's like to Ocean, which becomes Surf, and I think there's a right or something. I'll recognize the name when I see it."

"Oh. Hm, OK. I hope you know where you're going."

"We'll be fine. Don't worry about it."

"So what are you going to do about the event planning stuff?"

"Huh? Oh. I don't know. I heard there was an opening at the Holiday Inn in Princeton. You know, where we hold the Second Looks? The woman who does sales there left, so I'm thinking of applying."

"I see. Are you qualified to apply for that?"

"Well, that's the thing. That's what I was saying. I don't know. But I'm gonna try anyway. I mean, the worst they could do is say no, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. That's good."

"Yeah. I don't know. I guess."

"OK. So when are you going to retire on this farm?"

"Oh, I don't know. I picked up one of those real estate things the other day. You know, those free ones in restaurants and stuff? I was looking through it for land."

"Oh? Find anything?"

"Maybe...I think so...I'm not sure. But I think so."

What about You?

Sat, 15 Sep 2007 15:48:16 GMT

I believe in people. In love. In the power of good over evil. In last kisses. In final wishes. In everything and nothing at all.

I believe in what I need to do. In what I want. In life over death. In me. In you. In all of us. In side.

I believe that we can do what we set out to do. That we can overcome, achieve, excel, spread, fly, soar.

I believe there is no place like home. Home is where the heart is. Heart is where you put it. On your sleeve. In your soul. In others.

I believe in a song about you and me. In eternity. In forever and now. In simplicity and complexity all rolled into one.

I believe.

Case Closed

Tue, 11 Sep 2007 00:10:17 GMT

:).

I'm in the market for <3.

Imagini - VisualDNA Widget

Wed, 16 May 2007 04:15:30 GMT

Thanks, sugarbear.

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Forced Work or Workforce?

Mon, 14 May 2007 23:23:06 GMT

I join the work force tomorrow, thereby bringing down the unemployment rate in the US by .000001% or something like that. Then again, I was already employed, so now I'm screwing up the numbers by being double-employed.

I'm excited, nervous, scared, happy, worried, which is more negative emotion than I'd like to foster, but I believe that I can do a good job. Another stepping stone in life. More experience to gain.

My goals with this position are to:

1) Gain experience in event planning.

2) Develop a stronger sense of responsibility.

3) Do an awesome job!

4) Make money.

Wish me luck.

Exterior View

Thanks, God.