Sunday, January 18, 2009

psychology.

*before I begin, I'd like to gloat and say...check out my blog spree, kid.
B-)
True, it's not what I've been saying I'll post; truthfully, I know those posts will require more attention and time. This post, the five previous, and maybe more to follow, have been strictly off the cranium. Happenstance, if you will. I'd advise you to enjoy it while it lasts; I'm human, and subject to brain farts, thus; lack of focus/drive from time to time. To be frank: Blogging won't be priority for some time. :)
I'm taking this mental regurgitation as a blessing, because writing is definitely still my second greatest release. Music is still the first love. Although, some would argue that writing/poetry is music. I'm rambling.
To the post.*

I talk about Scuba Steve a lot. But, honestly, at the end of the day; Scuba isn't the one who brought me into this world and basically molded me to love him (ha, my own "I love you", to you babe). I've gotta talk about the woman who knows me better than any person ever will. Seriously. We shared an umbilical cord, man. An umbilical cord.


It's mommy!

Twins, right? Those who know us know that it's terribly difficult to distinguish who's who over the phone; and I've been subject to many an unwanted conversation because people call for moms, assume it's her when it's really me, and keep talking. She's the one who I tell literally everything to; I confide in her even when some things I tell her may hurt her, because she wants to be there for me in any way possible. She helps me when she knows she shouldn't or doesn't have to. We compete against eachother in silly little contests, like the ticket stub count. And no matter how many times she may say it, I really do know a good half of those life lessons she's always talking about. I'm an old soul, and I credit that to her, but she sometimes doesn't give me credit in knowing because...well, she's mommy.
My mother is a mental health therapist. She used to work directly with clients; substance abusers who have mental illnesses, but now she serves as a Grant Director for a counseling program. Smart as a whip. And due to her psychology background, she often benefits in having in-house patients: myself, my brother and father. Last night, my brother and I were tripping because we finally figured out one of moms' tactics. Ha! We finally have it down to a science. It's like this: you're in trouble, and YOUR response could either further the trouble you're in, or kill the whole situation. You can either diffuse the situation, or say the wrong thing and face consequences. The thing about the latter is...she can confuse you; make you think you're off the hook, then the next thing you know, it's 7AM (on your day off) and you're the victim of a random tongue lashing while half asleep. No bueno.


So, moms: we've got you figured out, somewhat. Regardless of the mind games (ohhhhh, the games), you're still an awesome woman. Don't stop being awesome.
I'm only being cheesy-nice because I'm hoping to inherit that psychology gene to use on my children. I've been waiting for so long to say "because I said so!"...*evil laugh*

(deuces.)

1 comment:

curiouslovechild said...

Welcome back to the blogging world dear. Yeah, my aunts will always think I'm mom when I answer the phone. I don't hear much of the similarity though lol. Basically moms rule.