My mother does not understand me. With the slightest mention of a want, she's on it. Fixing me those damn pancakes I've been craving for breakfast, setting the table, and pouring the milk. We take our seats at the table, spread the butter and layer on the syrup. It's traditional, it's fattening, it's American. Small talk takes the meal by the reigns and guides us to the last couple bites. For a second, a split second, I think maybe, just maybe we've accomplished the impossible – a decent family meal. But as soon as the thought is formed by my brain cells, it's gone.
Her: So, what is it exactly that you do all day, sitting online?
Her: I mean, you spend hours in there, and I'm just curious as to what you're doing.
Me: You're the one who gets the Guardian Reports. You should know.
Her: True, but they don't show me in depth what you do. I mean a thousand visits to … -
Me: Well, everyone else does it. We all sit online all day. It's just what we do.
Her: -sighing- Well, haven't you ever considered… expanding your horizons?
Expanding my horizons. How cute. Expanding my horizons in the town that nobody knows exists. In the stupid city that treats us all like shit until we're old enough to graduate, pack our bags, and get the hell out. I wait for her to mention the article that I know we both saw in the US Weekly that comes with the Sunday paper – the article that mentioned about how sitting online all day is a sign of depression. I know she read it. She had to have. I would even be willing to bet she has the article cut out and tucked away in her nightstand somewhere. I can picture her and my father sitting in bed at night. She's reading one of her romance/drama's that she picked up at the library last week, and he's reading the motorcycle magazine that came in the mail. She sets down her book, picks up the article off the nightstand, and hands it to him. "Oh, George! Look! LOOK AT WHAT OUR DAUGHTER IS BECOMING! OH, OH, OH! WHERE DID WE GO WRONG?!" I want to laugh, thinking about this. But, instead, I stare at my mother and wait for her to suggest my return to therapy. After a moment of silence, I decide to speak up. Maybe I can get myself out of a lecture… or something.
Me: Uhm. I'm going out with Amy on the fourth. We're going to see fireworks. Then we're going out with Matt on the 7th to see Pirates of the Caribbean, and then going out again after that with Leann to see the movie again.
This seems to stump her. She takes a surrendering breath, and says, "Okay."
She proceeds to ask me questions concerning my outings. Nothing too nosy, she's actually trying to be friendly and involved. Well, that's always nice, isn't it? I guess I could let her in on my social life.
The small one that I have, that is.
I wasn't lying when I told her that everyone sits online all day. I'm not sure if it's like this in other towns, other cities, other states, other countries. But that's how things work in this particular place. Maybe if I lived somewhere else I'd be happier. Somewhere like Europe or New York City. I don't know why it'd make a difference, but I think a change of scenery, or, rather, a permanent change of scenery (and no mom, I don't mean that I want to see the walls of the psyche ward everyday) Funny thing is though, if one of my parents ever did announce to me that we were moving, I'd probably cry and kick and scream the whole way. I love the people around me, but I hate the lack of people that understand. But it's hard for them to understand, when I won't let them.