11:17 a.m. - 2005-07-22
For example, take the movie "What's Love Got to do With It"... I find it brutally funny. (get it:'brutally' funny? hardy har har) Anywhoo, I feel like I can laugh with impunity at the crazy antics of Ike and Tina whooping the shit out of each other, because, well, that's pretty much my home life as a 10-21 year old. My parents were like Mike Tyson and his latest victim. Pow! Bam! And he's down for the count!! I lived it. I ate it. I breathed it, for 11 years. Until my parents divorced. Then Mom killed herself in remorse, and my father disappeared on the afternoon of her funeral. Fucked up, ain't it? But I am intelligent and resillient and it's been 8 years. I can cope. And I can laugh at these horrible situations. I am stubborn (I prefer the term strong-willed) enough to keep my own sanity in the face of all that insanity.
So I find humor in dark events. The reactions of people when put in these obscene situations are hilarious to me. Human nature at its worst, and most amusing. And when Tina pulled off her boot and started beating Ike with it, I laughed myself stupid.
My sister on the other hand is so unlike me it's crazy that we're related. She's a hyper-sensitive, melodramatic type of person. And Wednesday night I had to take her to be committed. I'm talking about a padded room and fiberglass covered television. Big ol' shot of something in the ass and she was smiling and waving like a J.K. Rowling wizard photograph. Tonight is visiting night and I'm apprehensive. I'm wondering what types of imagined injustices Erica will chose to throw at me. Because she's too weak to stand up and take responsibility for her own actions, her own mistakes. She feels the need to blame. And the figurative finger that gets pointed is almost always directed at me. When our parents were living, they were to blame. Erica would lament, "My childhood was just too bad. I saw too many horrible things to ever be normal!." I am three years older, and I don't partake of illegal substances that cause memory problems, and I lived that same fucking childhood. Yet, I'm not a drug addict. I'm not an alcholic. I have a great job and kept it for 10 years. I have friends. I have goals. Unlike my dear sister, I have dreams that I actually TRY to fulfill. And I don't spend time looking back at the unchangeable past searching for a reason to explain my neurosis.
I am who I am because of me and no one else.
It takes guts to say that and mean it. I have no one to blame, and no one to credit. No one helped me become a drug addict at the age of 19. And no one helped me completely and totally kick that drug habit by age 21. I did that all on my own. Both the good and the bad. I had no help earning my 4.0 gpa, being valedictorian. I had no help rolling a big, fat joint and cheefing it up either. I dropped out of college with a full scholarship all on my own volition. I got married and work hard at being a good parent, a good role model as well. I have morals. I don't cheat, lie, or steal. (unless you count cheating at games. But dude, I totally admit that I'm a cheater-cheater-pumpkin-eater before the game begins so if you don't watch me, I will take advantage in order to win and then it's your fault for being inattentive!) I accept blame and applause equally.
Please forgive the rambling diatribe. I'm just having a hard time accepting the excuses Erica gives me. I don't believe in excuses. Just say, "I fucked up" and make it right. But tonight I'm going to get a whole hour's worth.
Wish me luck with that.