I'm living in this yucky place where I just want to grab people by the throat and shove something hard and prickly down their necks. There' s no Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy here, folks. Although I do miss Ren and Stimpy, I have to say.
My son won't stay at school. Case manager calls to ask me to come pick him up. I go down, and then she wants to discuss his report card while he's beating up a traffic sign. Want to grab her by the neck. Instead: "Thanks so much. I'll take the report card and talk to you Monday. Buh-bye."
My husband read a posting I made on a guinea pig board where I vented on his not supporting me. And he got his feelings hurt. Want to grab him by the neck too.
My friend who calls me every night on her way home from work because she' s bored on the drive home -- she calls to complain about her kids. Do you have a fucking CLUE what is going on in my life? If you won't get your child tested for disabilities and you refuse to take her to therapy, then WHY are you calling me to complain about her running around the house crying in the morning? I'm not a support for you right now. I couldnt' care less if she makes the soccer team or if she even graduates fourth grade. Leave me alone. Want to pick her up by the neck.
My brother. Oy, my brother. First he writes that idiotic THING on grandpa and my aunt on Wiki, dripping in his reverential worship-laden tone, which was inaccurate besides. Then when he sees that I've edited it he calls to find out how I'm doing. Uh huh. "Gee Brother. You've been working hard on those. All the edits are from February and March." He replies, "Don't tell Mom, but I got fired. It's a great thing though. I'm finding a new path." I seriously want to pick him up by the neck.
My brother's new girlfriend is a researcher on methods of teaching English as a second language in American public schools. Suddenly my brother is all conversant on the state of the American public school system. Except that I tell him the most basic facts, like the fact that NCLB was jointly drafted by Senator Kennedy and Congressman George Miller, both ardent Democrats, he falls off his chair.
"Just WAIT until my girlfriend hears about THIS!"
"Nickleby was drafted by the Democrats and not funded by the Republicans. It was not drafted by the Republicans, just cut off at the knees so that now it's burdensome."
"Kennedy? Really? How do you KNOW these things?"
Oh my good lord. You did miss the fact that I ran for public office and served on the school board for four years, didn't you? When you were dating the special ed teacher, it was exhilarating to have you diagnose my son over the phone. I can't WAIT to hear what these educational conversations are going to entail. Hold still for a sec -- I need to get a good grip on your neck.
Then, the conversation about my aunt. How glad he is that I contributed to Wikipedia. Until I ask the question: "What is she DOING on Wikipedia? OK, she wrote fantasy novels, and she's very well known within a very small sector of the Arabian breeding world, but, uh, she's not internationally important."
"She's important to me."
"Uh huh. So I can go ahead and write one on my husband too? I'm not getting it."
"She was important to the Armenian American community."
"Which is why you didn't put ANYTHING in her bio about her role in the Armenian American community, right?"
Back and forth. Back and forth.
I need to go dig a ditch or something. It used to make me feel better when I was younger. Hours of heavy manual labor, a beer, and a summer afternoon on the roof of the barn, sleeping in the sun, letting the breeze calcify the sweat, the dust, the beer, and the grime. And laughing with the barn rats. I haven't laughed in a while.