byCarmine

I think writing can be a very personal thing. Which sounds strange given that I’m saying it on a blog that can potentially be read by millions.

But for the most part, aside from the occasional request to post more, it is largely not subject to criticism – well, if you don’t count the ranting comments from a certain banned player a month ago. Certainly, I do not get people pointing out the (numerous) spelling, and grammatical errors. Nor does anyone review and post criticisms on my writing style, or lack-there-of.

So, what I got today was a new experience. People have always told me I write well. But then again, I’m running the game they play on so there is a suck-up factor there. Back to today. I decided, for the first time, to write. Or type. My hand-writing is too messy for anyone to read and I get constantly frustrated when I mix letters around the wrong way and my hand can’t keep up with the speed of my brain.

Actually I need to go back another 24 hours, when I was in bed and near sleep and there were words spinning around my head and the idea for a story was born. It stuck, and I found myself feeling a need to start, what I could remember of it, today. I did. And got off a few hundred words, not more than a couple of pages. I felt quite proud. I read over it. Made some changes. Read over it, made a few more changes. I was happy. Pleased with myself. So far so good, right?

The next bit is where I went wrong. I decided to ask someone their thoughts. So, I sent it off, expecting some words of encouragement, a few ideas, and a few suggestions. But overall, I thought that any feedback would be (mostly) good. The fact that it wasn’t hurt. The only aspect that gained a positive response was the first paragraph. But given that it was only a half dozen words… that doesn’t tell me much beyond that.. maybe I’m just not that good. And that I don’t deal well with criticism. Well, perhaps the latter isn’t that surprising given how much of it I get constantly, all day. It wasn’t that I expected a sugar-coated reply of lies… I just.. I don’t know what I expected.

Maybe I’m just not that good. The few hundred word text file has been archived into the File partition of my hard drive, where everything goes that never really gets looked at again.

Last night, just as I was falling to sleep, I thought of the first line in a story I wished to write. Thought of and promptly have now forgotten. I should of written it down, but it was in that state of half-sleep-half-awake where reality isn’t quite all there. And neither is the dream state, bordering on lucid dreaming – which is always a fun place to be. And no, that wasn’t sarcasm.

A lot going on in my life, so it has been hard to find the time to scratch a few words here. Finally though, got a couple of assignments and I am able to fight my way up for a few mouthfuls of air before sinking back down into the murky waters that is my life at the moment.

There have been some nice highlights over the past few weeks. I went out and saw a movie. Normally, I know, not such a big thing, but for me; given how infrequently getting out of the house for fun happens; it was. Movie was good. District 9. Lots of gore, which was great. Original take on an alien movie. Also went out for dinner at Coyote. Had the Canterbury Lamb: “Tender lamb shank slowly braised in garlic, rosemary, chili, red wine with root vegetables served on a creamy mashed potato.”  Very yum. And of course, there was cheesecake for dessert which was also pretty incredible. The whole night  and the company was too. It was nice to go out and just.. relax.

So, dinner time is always the worst times for me. It isn’t that Ewan has taken to not swallowing his food and instead spitting it out. It isn’t because there is so much to do, trying to get dinner for myself, Mum and Ewan and get the latter to bed before it’s too late and all the dramas that go with it.

It is because my Mother is so critical, that she is unable to go through a meal that I cook, ever night, without throwing out a half dozen criticisms or insults. And that’s on a good day. Is it because I’m that bad a cook? I don’t think so, because the things my Mum often has issues with are just.. beyond what would be considered ‘normal’. I think. At least from my own experiences meandering through life. The plate has to be perfectly heated. No pepper can be used. AT ALL. Even the slightest spot of it will have her pissed off. Copious amounts of butter and cheese has to be used through everything. No more than a dessert spoon of vegetables on her plate and only peas. Or cauli covered with cheese sauce. Anyways. I get off topic. That’s just normal stuff.

Tonight though.. yeah. Has me half wanting to bang my head against the wall and half crawl into bed and cry. Certainly there were a few tears. How did it start? Me approacthing my Mum twice.. asking her what she felt like eating as I needed to get dinner on for Ewan soon. I list several options, she says she’ll think about it. I ask again 20 minutes later and she said none of those, she wants pancakes. So.. I go away, start to make them. And she comes in, enraged. Because I’m not following her recipe. And that I ALWAYS do them wrong, and they’re horrid. So I ask her, where is her reciepe, what is it and I’ll make it. She refuses, saying she doesn’t want it, isn’t going to eat it and just to leave it.

I try sooo hard to accomodate her. I really do. But lately her snide and nasty comments are just really starting to hurt. I can’t do Uni, and raise Ewan and go through this every day. I can’t. She watches me like a hawk, and any time she thinks I might be doing anything other than work for her she quickly asks what I’m doing, then waits, and yells at me for it later.

The other thing that really bugs me at the moment is that she’s trying to take over everything that I do with Ewan. Taking Ewan to bed was my special time with him. And now, she insists on coming and doing it. Probably because, like everything, she doesn’t think I’m doing a good enough job. I tried explaining this to her and she just won’t listen. And I think, that is likely what is the cause of this round of mood swings.\

I saw a counsellor again last week, but not my usual one as she left the practice. And instead another lady. And she was.. I don’t know.. Not helpful. She said several things, amongst which were: that the problem is situational. That my Mum is being abusive. And that, she is not willing to help me go through through it and provide support as it isn’t going to go away till the situation ends. That I should let my Mum try commit suicide, as an ambulance would (probably) get there in time, and then she’ll get under the mental health system. She then said that if anyone found out she said that she’d be stripped of her license. She really didn’t seem interested or wanting to see me again. Didn’t seem like she wanted to help, and just.. meh. Feel worse. Not better.