Elizabeth Marlowe...Scientist?

I think not. My mother, however, just spent the better part of half an hour in the Target parking lot trying to convince me that, yes, I was destined to do science for a living.

This all stemmed from me not wanting to talk about a personal issue I had been having. The last time we talked about this she broke down and just generally "lost it" at a Dairy Queen in Buffalo, Texas. So I told her rather firmly several times that I did not want to discuss it and she should just drop it.

That (somehow) led to, "You know, you've been awfully secretive lately." Oh have I? I wasn't aware. I don't intentionally hide things from her. And you know, really, I wouldn't be secretive if my mother were more balanced or she didn't try and run my life making decisions for me.

She said, "You know, when Valerie was in college I actually saw her grades. You just tell me and I'm supposed to just believe you. When we get home I want to see your grades."

THAT conversation led to what I wanted to do with my life. Eventually I let Momma in on the fact that I might want to work for NASA if I could, but not in the science area.

"I'm not a scientist, Mom."

"But you could be. You can do anything. I've always said you were the one that could do anything! You aren't limited by learning disabilities like Valerie and I am."

Okay, for the record, my sister is really fucking smart. I'm not as intelligent as she is and I recognize that. Even with her very slight learning disability in math, she has gone on to some pretty amazing things in life and I will be lucky to be half as successful.

"But I don't want to do science. I like it okay, sure, but I like other stuff better. I don't like math! I can do it, but I don't like to do it. It's not fun for me!"

"But you could be so good at it!"

"Mom! No! listen to me, I do not want to do it. I like political science."

"You could keep political science as a minor..."

Okay, let's break this down:

1. I am halfway done with college. All the math and additional science reqs would probably put me at an EXTRA 3-4 semesters. All in all, 5 1/2 - 6 years. No. (once more, with feeling...) HELL NO! I am not doing that.
2. I like science in the way that someone thinks "oh thats kinda cool." I like to watch the Discovery channel and my favorite show on the History channel is "The Universe" which is about spacey things. Hence, why it would be fun to work for NASA. I find it interesting, but I don't have a passion for it.
3. I'm not known for doing well with things that I'm not totally interested in. I'm working on it, but I still find math too boring to willfully engage in. ANY science major would require significantly more math than I am willing to commit myself to right now.
4. I know something that my mother does not, and it makes all the difference in the world. The physics department at UNT is full of pissy uncompromising bitches. No thanks, I'll pass on dealing with that.

She continued to try to convince me to CHANGE MY MAJOR.

"You know Valerie went the political science route and look where she is."

"Valerie graduated with an English degree, Mom."

"Oh. Well before that it was political science."

(Again, my sister is not, by any means, unsuccessful in my opinion.)

The conversation continued to devolve from there until I conceded to look at a website detailing scientific career opportunities available. Ah...Life with my mother. It just keeps getting better and better (or, you know, more of the same).

Oh! PS, Blog, I am going to Nashville in a couple of weeks and I need things to do to fill my time! Comments and suggestions are welcomed and appreciated!

Streetcorner Symphony

Me: 1991.

"We should just dress you up and put you on a street corner."

Not exactly the positive message a mother would normally want to send to her three-year-old daughter.

When I went to school with my mother on Friday, we were on the way home when we somehow got onto the subject of this oh-so-special former mantra of Momma's. I told her that everyone I had ever told that she used to say this, thought it was horrible.

"Child prostitution is no joke, Mom."

"Well, that's what you looked like! Okay, what would you say if your little three-year-old daughter insisted on wearing a leopard print skirt and a shirt with different patches of animal print in different colors with red high heels?"

(I do remember the shirt she was talking about and it was AWESOME. As for the heels, they were a gift and I loved them dearly.)

She said I used to ask for these very ostentatious outfits and say that "But Mommy, I need them!" (Which totally sounds like me.) And in return, she would buy them with the caveat that I could not leave the house in them.

"I was worried about you! Who knows what kind of attention you might have gotten, what kind of people might have taken your picture. You were exactly the type that all those child sex perverts liked..."

"So you made tasteless comments?"

"[As if I'd never spoken] I always said, 'She's the one I'm going to have to worry about...' You know, with men."

"...uh huh."

"But I was so proud. You turned into such a prim and proper young woman."

"I guess..."

"I was so worried, Elizabeth. [at this point she looked deep into my eyes] I thought I was going to have to worry about you going around half-dressed, flashing people and things."

A little background on what I was like as a child: I liked attention. A lot. I had long hair full of bouncing ringlets, and was ADORABLE. All the old ladies at church used to tell me so. I was in dance, had a sparkling personality, and was more than a little precocious. I LOVED attention. So, I can see why my mom might have been worried.

"Well, I'm not going to lie to you, Mom...I just might have. Fortunately for you, I turned out to be fat."

"Yeah..."

And that's how the conversation ended. Just as offensively as it began. Seriously, though, I've never actually thought about what I would be like if my self esteem hadn't been shot to hell at such an early age and I hadn't become so introverted and neurotic.

And she is right (those words leave a bitter taste in my mouth), I probably would have been a little too outgoing for my own good.

Summertime

Its Saturday. Which means my mom is home and not at work.

I fell asleep last night on the couch and not my bed, which is not unusual. The thing about being home for the summer, is I don't live alone anymore.

I woke up purely on instinct this morning. The reason I know this is that I hadn't actually planned to get up until much later than the 8:00 that I ended up being awoken.

As the haze began to clear, I realized I was not ready to be up. I tried rolling over, which usually works. Just as I was about to fall back asleep, I hear my mom's door open and close abruptly. No big deal, she usually walks through the living room to do whatnot.

Then I hear her footsteps stop. Right in the middle of the living room. Maybe 45 seconds pass and I think she's doing something or maybe looking through the mail super-quietly. I decide to take a quick look to make sure and then go back to sleep. Only, no. Because she was staring at me.

"Oh, good. You're up."

"Wellllll...Only kinda. Why were you just standing there looking at me?"

"I didn't want to wake you up when I went to make something to eat." (Our kitchen and living room are just separated by a bar counter.) "Can I go make something?"

"Sure."

I roll over, TRY to go back to sleep, and fail. My mother makes the loudest breakfast ever, and I am up for the day.

The thing is, this is not uncommon at home. I know, I know..."If you just slept in your bedroom, this wouldn't be a problem." Only, yes, it would. My mother comes to my room to tell me the weirdest things at the weirdest times and there's nothing I can do about it. She doesn't listen or absorb the things that I tell her. So the only remaining option becomes to deal with it. But dealing with it doesn't mean I can't bitch about it.

I am in for such a fun summer. With my mom day in and day out. Hooray.

Half-Done, but not Half-Baked

I just finished my second year of college. Say it with me, Blog...Yay.

I apologize if I don't seem quite as excited as I should be. Its just...I am reminded that I am ONLY half done. I have another 2 whole years before I graduate, and in all likelihood another 2-3 years of post-graduate work beyond that. Forgive me if I don't relish the idea of doing this for another half a decade.

I have plans, Blog. Life plans. I would like to get a job, get married, etc...Alas, it will have to wait. Life experiences in general always seem to get put on the back-burner for me.

In other emo ramblings...Momma cried for the last 100 or so miles of the trip because she is worried I am "becoming her." I don't think I will lose all my friends, adopt a few hundred cats, and die alone, but being here is already an issue. I need some friend therapy, and to know that I matter to someone other than my mother. *sigh* Things will just have to wait. I'll throw myself into unpacking the car once it stops raining...maybe that will distract me.