A few weeks ago, my mom and dad had a huge fight, based on the fact that my mom misheard something my dad said. I was there; I can vouch for the fact that she misheard it. It's a totally out of character type of thing for him to say, on top of it. So I'm really quite positive that she heard it wrongly. I convinced her of the fact, I think. But rather than shrug it off because she heard wrongly, she's turned it into this giant "there's something wrong with my brain; I'm mishearing everything!" sort of deal. To be fair, there are things wrong with her. Largely, it's the fact that she takes a massive cocktail of prescription drugs to keep her alive; and listed on a good 75% on them are siAnyde effects like difficulty with concentration. And on top of it, like me, and even much worse than me, she suffers from constant nightmares and insomnia and hardly ever gets any sleep. But that doesn't mean that her brain is broken. Just that she needs to make lists sometimes, and double check on the things people say before she starts freaking out about them.
But anyway, she started in on the whole there's something wrong with my brain bit, and I said: "There's nothing wrong with your brain. Sometimes people hear what they want to." She flipped, and told me to leave.
I said that she had no reason to be angry and that she knew it was damn true that people hear what they're expecting to hear sometimes. She said she wasn't looking for a fight that day. And I said that it was probably true that she wasn't; but that doesn't change the fact that what she heard dad say, is exactly the sort of thing she's always accusing him of thinking, that he never says, and therefore, the probability is greater that she "heard" what she anticipated him to say, rather than just honestly messed up the sounds of the words. She freaked again, told me to leave. And I did. Because I'm not in the mood.
I was talking to my sister today and found out that one of my uncles, and my cousin, are both Old Regular Baptist preachers. This is funny largely because I friggin' hate Baptists; especially of the Old Order. But I like my uncle and my cousin, so I guess, like so many other Baptists in my life, they get to just slide in under the bar. The point is, I think it's funny how religion centered my family is. I have two uncles who are preachers, one who's a priest, one cousin in the church, and God knows how many antichrist types running around. I mean, imagine Brett and I standing beside the preachers of the Greasy Creek Old Regular Baptist Church. East is East, and West is West, and sometimes, maybe, the twain only looks really odd when they meet.
posted by Sarie @
6:49 PM
>Comments: 0
