Not a post about turning 30

I had planned to write some rambling thing about turning 30 today. But instead, I'll sum up and get to what is really on my mind.

30: Been looking forward to this. Yay! I'm 30. Guess what, I'm still me. And if you're one of those twits who thinks I should feel bad about this milestone... then maybe you should start looking at yourself and figure out why you think youth is an end point, not part of the journey.

Now, on to the madness.

My mother calls me today. The traditional 8:15 wish me a Happy Birthday call. And... about 2 minutes into it she says she has some bad news. I think... cancer. She has cancer. She is dying. No, not tragic enough. My nephew... the youngest one... yes... he is dying. Some wilting disease. Right?

Newp. My sister is getting a divorce. Instead of going into detail on that and airing the dirty laundry of a woman few of you know... I'll get to the point. In the conversation that follows, as my mother tells me more and more of the recent events that led up to someone actually uttering the word divorce, I find myself going through all the damn enabling behavior of my sister. Just like the enabling behavior of my mother. All fueled by fear.

And of course, I get angry. I do my thing where I just go over and over in my head how people can be so stupid. I once again mentally tear into my sister, my mother, and a couple of my friends. Why would they put up with that? Why would you stay in a situation where you obviously weren't happy? Why would you go along with something you just didn't agree with? On and on... and other than my brain... only the beau really has ever heard how bad it can get. How truly cutting, judgmental, and harsh I am of other people. And the people I care about get it the worst.

But then, he understands why I need to do it.

Sometimes, I feel bad about this little cycle of mine. Where I pick apart every flaw of a human being, connect the dots and ask, "Why? Why the fuck would you do this?" Just a few nights ago, in fact, after totally dissecting the unhealthy behavior of a friend I growled and threw my hands up and asked once again why I bothered.

He just calmly started to bring up a few points to remind me that people, are in fact, human. And not all mistakes are about willful stupidity.

I sighed. "I'm an ass. I go off. I know I do. But it just makes me so angry. But I shouldn't. We're all dealing with our own demons."

He just smiled. "It's okay."

"Why is it okay that I'm a judgmental bitch?"

"Because, you're like that with everyone. You're worst on yourself. And you remember to forgive them all just as quickly as you damn them."

So, as I listened to my mother go on and on, wanting to strangle her and my sister for being emotionally masochists, that little twinge of guilt wasn't there.

We do really deserve to be strangled for our faults.

We also deserve to be forgiven when we work to change them.

Come and knock on our door

I am stuck at work, but the boys are out apartment/house shopping today. Here's hoping they find something with a large bathtub, good lighting, and a robot that comes out of the broom closet and cleans it all while I'm at work.

I actually spoke with my mother the other day, trying to explain the upcoming shift in my living arrangements. It started simply enough, with the phrase 'I'm moving'.

"Away? Again?"

I say: No mom, just around the block or maybe a few towns over. We're getting a roommate, Jesse, so we're going to need a bigger place.

I think: No mom, I already moved away. And to the land of yankees. I don't think in your mind I can get anymore away than that.

"Oh, is this a friend of John's or something?"

I say: Yes, and mine. They work for the same company. He's a really great guy and we all get along very well.

I think: You know, I can hear the suspicion in your voice. Your brain cannot compute why I'd rather have a roommate instead of kid. Obviously, something is wrong with me and John. And possibly, I am fucking this other guy for kicks. Hrm... now there's a thought.

"Well, it'll be like Three's Company then, won't it."

I say: So I have to pretend I'm gay when the landlord shows up?

I think: So I have to pretend I'm straight when the landlord shows up?