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Rambling, in hopes that I find a conclusion.

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Jan. 28th, 2012 | 10:31 am
mood: curiouscurious

Yesterday afternoon, Mom called to ask what college fees were, etc., and updated me on the company as well as her boat-searching endeavors. I felt like a squirming little kid, anticipating the moment she asks about my super-productive day at work.

"Well, honey, I've gotta go. I have a nail appointment.

After 17 minutes (yeah yeah, I looked at the phone time) of her rambles: "The business is doing so well! We're expanding!...This boat looks great, we're going to put $X down on it... You know your father and I...myself...my life...", she didn't ask.

Well, maybe she forgot?

I knew she had an appointment, so I wasn't going to be rude, "Hey, Mom, wanna hear a brief about my morning at work?"

"Sorry, honey. I've gotta go to this appointment. How about I call you later?"

"Sure, Mom." But of course I squeezed in a few things because I was excited, "I really impressed my boss today and I'll be in court with her on Wednesday!"

She didn't call me back. Which, you know, is fine. I was just looking forward to the call, that's all. The main point is that it happened again, just with my roommate. For the purposes of this journal I'll call her Janel, since privacy is fun (funfunfun!).

Janel came to the apartment, sat down her things, and I asked her how dinner went with the theater apartment. She filled me in on in, shared the jokes, told me who was there (or at least who I knew of all of them), and the beer she drank. She talked about how she was a beer snob for a while, then how people were discussing how big her boobs were in the theater department... then she started to watch TV. Hah, it was then that I finished my pathetic statements about my day (8.5 hours after Mom's phone call). She didn't seem to give a rat's ass; perhaps she was still feeling wooed by a man she met in the bar, or was still gleaming about the attention she received about her boobs.

My other roomie, Helen (once again, for the purposes of this journal) thinks that I give Janel the benefit of the doubt too often, always making excuses for her: "She's an only child; She only knows how to talk to one person at a time; She just needs a boyfriend..." Truth is, I really give her too many excuses, and I don't know why.

I feel this is an ongoing theme in my life: justifying the actions of others that hurt me the most.

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from: moonisaballoon
date: Jan. 29th, 2012 05:01 am (UTC)

Honest to God, you have no idea how much this entry sounds like a snippet of my life.

My parents are emotionally unavailable and live very far away from me. I maybe see them twice a year and more often than not when I call them to talk about something they'll be busy, promise to call and never do as much,

My old flatmate sounds exactly like yours as well. She had this amazing knack of asking me how I was and then somehow turning the conversation onto how she is. She also did theatre stuff. I think there's a theme.

I know that in a lot of ways, that is exactly why I have a journal. To meet unbiased strangers who listen to what I have to say.

That doesn't mean that this kind of stuff doesn't still suck, though :(.

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from: d00mmuffinz
date: Jan. 29th, 2012 07:46 pm (UTC)

Thanks for the support... not going to lie, I'm shocked that someone else has experienced the same. Makes me feel good in a way, knowing that I'm not exactly crazy for feeling like I'm the only one.

Theatre kids... She went to a party last night with them, invited me, but I worked on a paper instead. Sometimes I try to avoid them like the plague... wouldn't be surprised if they had some sort of disease, anyway. Unfortunately my conscience kicked in and I picked her up around 1am. Thank goodness my puppy likes car rides: I woke the little girl up and tossed her in the passenger seat.

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