Wednesday, September 7, 2005

Superdaddyman Takes on the Evil Mommystopholese - Volume 1

My intrigue of self has grown immeasurably over the last couple of months, as I am now given free leisure, to blather on and on about my favoritest topic in the whole word …. ME! The overwhelming support that I get to continue writing is … well … quite amazing actually. The last thing on Earth that any of the family God so humorously placed in my life at conception, would ever want me to do, is share my thoughts and feelings with anyone. The “No Speak” rule, as it was so aptly titled by a friend of mine, is such a powerful force in my family that I often forget that what I am doing, isn’t a bad thing. Despite the fact that it isn’t bad, I continue to do it anyway, in the hopes that I can finally document the saga of Superdaddyman in a HUGE E-book someday. I of course would put pretty little pictures in it to attract attention, and maybe some candid “in-depth” interviews with some of the cast of cartoon characters that enter in and out of the drama. A few testimonials, by the people who are so amazingly riddled with co-dependency that they think my ramblings might even be considered charming.

The reality of all of it is that I have a serious problem with simply emoting all of my feelings in a blast of incomprehensible banter, like so many other bloggers out there do. I am not the greatest of story tellers at all, as a matter of fact. I shield almost every bit of what comes out of my head with raging amounts of passive aggressiveness, which also was the only way to circumvent the “No Speak” rule in my family.

Let’s start dissecting the pathetic roots from which I come, with the easy ones. My mother is such a phony baloney that she has been running away from herself to the point that I am just waiting for her to show up here, demanding a room in the Casa Di Evils’s. Her horrible need to be the Diva of everything she encounters is only surpassed by her amazing fear of success. Does it sound weird? Well welcome to what I deal with. Since this woman started out as a mother with growing by leaps and bounds art gallery, that featured many now famous artists, and her own artwork that was becoming appreciated itself, the saga goes like this. She quit that {and being a mother for that matter}, ran off to New York to become an actress. When she was finally getting the Broadway gigs, and her name in the trade papers she did what will become the trend here, and quit, to become a television star. Her television appearances, and Soap Opera notoriety, had just about gotten her to the brink when … you guessed it … she quit. Her new love of being a playwright was on the horizon, and she was finally getting prominent Off Broadway stuff out there when … surprise surprise … she quit. Mystery writer … big contract … she quit. Comedy writer … well actually she failed miserably at that one … the new trend is beginning. I am having to deal with listening to her complain about her Manhattan Bistro, which was her last wonderful idea. This one cost her about a hundred thousand dollars {35,000 of which was MINE that Greektradgedius Inyiddish gave her on my behalf, and WITHOUT my permission} , and is just evaporating at the end of September. It was a place where people could come in, hang out, and talk about … well my semi-famous mother. She now sits in her mid 50’s, once again, totally broke, and pretending to be famous.

I have gotten over the fact a very long time ago that my mother doesn’t actually love me. As her son, I was at best a “held hostage” audience for many of the incredibly stupid things this woman has done. I watched her marry several men, all of whom she based by their varying degrees of status. I have watched her totally thumb her nose up at everyone and everything that has to do with any of the rest of us in the family, or totally look down upon any decision I have made in my life, based on the criterion of men she has had sex with. As I have told a few people, there is nothing worse than knowing a semi-famous failure, the name dropping, and constant reminding of all of the important things that they have done is, just mind numbing, to be polite. The knowing that, they steal from everyone, and enjoy life while you are struggling to do the right things is definitely infuriating. The fact that I sit here knowing that some day this woman will be knocking at my door wanting shelter from the horrible decisions that she has made, while being an infantile burden to society is scary, but it is what I in the end will do. I am better than that, and for no other reason than, without her I would not be alive today. The question I still ask myself, everyday that her ruination gets closer {and yes I try not to project, but reality is reality} … Will I be strong enough to not be abusive to the pathetic old lady that becomes my burden, when I am forced to take care of her someday? Don’t think it is a simple question of whether I am a good person or not … you are what your parents make you … it isn’t that easy to change it … but I try ;8o)