Just a little bit ....

All my life one of my favorite performers has been George Michael.  His death this past Christmas was like a little piece of my childhood leaving.  I only knew the media/pop star version of the man and of course as a teenager, with my posters adorning my walls, I devoured Mtv tidbits like the Bible.

Then at some point I got away from his music.  I think he became “too deep” for my likings, but in actuality he was probably just becoming real to the world.

I just started watching an older documentary about him and while I am still marveling at home fine looking a man he was, I find my older sense feeling so different about him.  Equally as strong as my 18 year old love for him is my 48 year old respect for him.

Perhaps what has hit home with me the most is his relationship with his father.  His father had George’s life planned out.  What he should do.  What he should become.  He’d written his story.  When told George wanted to be an entertainer, his father’s comment was “George can’t sing!”

George can’t sing.

Had he listened, George wouldn’t have sang.  He wouldn’t have written such amazing music.  But for some reason George was able to say “fuck you, I’m going for my dreams!”  Not only did he say it, he did it.  Tragically his demons won in the end, which will forever make me sad, but his years on this earth were very much lived.

One man heard “you can’t” and proved that message was wrong.

One woman hears “you can’t” and holds those words as a truth, even when there is no proof to support it.

I don’t know what makes a person pick one or the other and run with it, but I’d like to hope that it’s never too late to change your mind if you’ve picked the wrong reaction.

I’ve spent my whole life believing “you can’t” and I want to be done.

Like the song says, I gotta have faith …..

Thanks mom

My mother can be something. When I think I'm immune to her words, she does another attack and I remember once again how much hurt she can inflict. 

Some people win the lottery and have a mother who is a cheerleader, a nurturing presence and an endless champion in our fight to discover ourselves and become someone great. 

Then there is the rest of us that got something that resides on a maternal  scale between something that eats its young and a bird that kicks its hatchling out of the nest with a "well if you'd applied yourself!" muttered in a tone the displays the utter disappointment you are. 

I'm 48 and I still haven't fully established a way to classify my mother except for the generic term "bitch."  What do you call someone who's main focus is to make sure you fully understand what ever shortcoming exists in your life from her viewpoint. 

Case in point, today's interaction. She said she was going to tell me something and she didn't want me to get mad. 

"Never wear that shirt again. It does you no favors. It looks horrible and you look 10 pounds bigger."

When she finished I told her that I would continue to wear this shirt because it makes me happy and that's what matters. 

The charm of her words made my day even better. She has the best timing.  Nothing makes you feel better about sitting with your unconscious father, who's non responsive due to a Parkinson's fatigue day, than having your mother point out how unattractive you look doing it. 

I did get her home before I broke down in tears. 

I don't know why she doesn't understand that it doesn't make me mad. 

I breaks my heart. 

It suffocates the parts of me that still have hope. 

It reminds me that after all these years all that matters to her is the surface. 

I know this is her. Her issues. Her world. Her twisted words. 

At least today I stood my ground. Sucks that most of my time I feel like my ground is the tip of an eroding ice burg.