7.29.2011

///ANYWHERE///

The books, films, & music I enjoy are the ones I can relate to; the ones I see a reflection of myself in, distorted or exact. My personal phenomenon, though, is that I can always remember whether or not I enjoyed a film or a book, but I cannot, for the life of me, remember the story line. Or perhaps I trick myself into thinking so in avoidance, because I'm so horrible at storytelling.
A film I remember enjoying as a teenager:
sometimes i just couldn't stand her. sometimes i hated her. sometimes i thought she was ruining my life.
what kept me going, is knowing that one day i would leave her.

Strange to think that teenage girls develop, almost inevitably, such a confident hate towards the woman that brought them to life in the first place. Perhaps it is the presence of fresh pubescent estrogen battling the old-timer for a place in the spotlight, & the war cools down as maturities harmonize with time. Who knows. I know I felt the exact same way Ann did pretty much all throughout my teenhood, & to this day, I still have no idea how mothers put up with that cruel behavior. A lot of screaming & tears & pain & breakdowns & worry & frustration, that's for sure. So all the mothers out there who are going through the hardships that a teenage daughter brings, rest assured that in the end they will love you & make up for all the past undeserved callousness they showed you.


even if you can't stand her, even if you hate her, even if she's ruining your life, there's,
there's something about my mother.. some romance, some power. & when she dies,
the world will be flat. too simple, too fair, too reasonable.

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