Here we go, this year's attempt to expand my writing to a broader audience than my Facebook friends. This time, I decided not to make a new blog and just continue on with the old one. I guess you can call it "vintage."
A lot has happened since my last post. No need to recap the past 13 months, so lets just say I've been "busy." "But Jon, what has kept you so busy that you weren't able to write?" you might ask. My response would be guilt.
Guilt is a weird word and feeling. Guilt can be one's greatest motivator or life-long nemesis. It's a little bit of both for me. The weird thing is that most of my guilty feelings have not been developed by my actions, but, from the actions of others. In Layman's terms, I got "mommy issues."
Those close to me, or rather those that have seen me get "emotional drunk" (its like "white girl wasted" but for intellectual...fuck off, its my phrase and my definition), know that I did not have the greatest upbringing, and my mother and I did and do not have a great relationship.
Rather than drudge up details of the past, I will just update you on the outcome. Living with someone for your entire childhood, it is hard not adopt certain behaviors of the person whose job it was to help mold you into an adult. Whether it be positive or negative, it is certain to happen.
So, let me start off with the positives. My mother is extremely intelligent, an excellent writer, and has outstanding adaptability skills. She has and always will be a survivor. Having said that, it is mostly the negative behavior patterns I recognize. Like her inability to trust, her uncanny knack to push people away, or her lack of nurturing capabilities. There are many more positives and negatives, but for my readers' sake, I'll keep the lists short.
Yeah, yeah...I haven't forgotten about the main idea of this entry, I'm getting there, I'm a writer and its important for me to set the mood, so bear with me.
Okay, where was I? Oh yeah. So, to say the least, as an adult, my opinion of my mom's parenting technique is that she did the bare minimum. Yeah, my sister and I were fed daily, we made it to our adult years without felonies or lost limbs, and we got presents for Christmas and our birthdays. To the outside observer, that was enough.
Fast forward to me today, with my own family, and I see that wasn't enough. My mother never provided motivation for us to try anything new or any activities. She never exposed us to anything that she didn't want to do herself. I remember spending summer days trapped at the Maywood Racetrack eating McDonald's with my sister, making sure not to bug my mom while she bet on horses with her boyfriend.
There was no family game night, there was no eating meals at the table together, there was no sense of me wanting or needing to share my academic accomplishments with her, and most of the time it felt like we were more of a burden than a blessing as her children.
Almost there, just hold tight. This is where the guilt comes in and me not being able to write. Like I said earlier, I have a child and a family of my own now. Like every other parent, there are times I feel like locking myself in the bathroom for an hour to get some uninterrupted "me time" or taking a long drive by myself to exhale and reflect. I don't always want to play Wii golf, or watch "Austin & Ally", or put together way to extensive Barbie dream house. Sometimes I want to write, dammit!
I want to be known in this world and be taken seriously as a writer, and to do that, and perfect my trade, I must be selfish with my time. Kids always know when you have free time, and they want to gobble it up. Sometimes when my daughter asks me to play a game of Uno, I say "no," and here comes the guilt.
It's not like she cries or storms off, she understands (most of the time), but a little bit of guilt enters my thoughts. First I try to justify it, like "I didn't get all that quality Uno time growing, and I'm fine. She'll be okay." Then I think, I'm not fine. I'm an emotional black hole who can only truly express my feelings through written word or while being "emotional drunk" (it will catch on, don't you worry).
I still don't give in and play the game or whatever activity she wanted to do at the time. Kids can recognize guilty feelings in an adult, at least mine can, and take advantage of that. Can't let her get the upper hand in this parent-kid relationship thing. On the same note, I feel bad for putting what I wanted to do at the moment (write) ahead of what she wanted to do, and decide not to do it out of guilt. So I just sit there, being unproductive to spite myself. Then I have a glass or two of wine to drown out the thoughts, and make promises to myself that I will write tomorrow (promises I rarely keep). The vicious cycle, double sided guilt.
So there you have it, one of the main antagonists in my crusade to write more is guilt, and it is also one of the main protagonists as to why I am writing today. I've decided to say "fuck guilt" and do what I need to for me while finding a happy medium to have quality time with my family. Guilt will no longer be my crutch, and I will dedicate more time to writing. Who the fuck am I kidding? I'll see you guys in 2014 with my next post.
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