{∅, {∅}, {∅, {∅}}} : Rage Against the Meat Grinder

I've lost my temper a few times with my own mother over the last week or so.  I find myself feeling trapped, and then, in the next moment, feeling the anguish such a break would cause, for my mother depends on me a great deal.

She once told me she will laugh AT me from Heaven.  Imagine the horrific stupidity!  Imagine a mother getting a kick out of witnessing safe from a parallel dimension, her offspring "stuck in the world without her."  It's grotesquely childish.  I've noticed a great deal of tantrums and a real bull-headed, stubborn, down-right stupid side to my mother, living with her, day in, day out.

Well, I've been ruminating a bit about the opening lines of The Stranger.

"Mother died today, or was it yesterday?"

I'm not going to play the big shot in public.  I'll admit I dread the thought of my mother passing.  I had always considered her a kind of friend, but there are times when she takes on the traits of the villain, maybe even doing me wrong in OWNING ME LIKE A SLAVE.   

Well, just maybe the best revenge is living well, meaning, that even were i to be homeless and having to store books and computers in storage unit, maybe a certain kind of freedom awaits and I will not feel as crushed or abandoned as my mom thinks (laughing from Heaven, remember?).

There are times I have heard myself say that I would not care dying any time at all, that I don't really care about "getting anywhere" in particular with my studies, that I have actually studied more than i ever intended to already.  maybe I have been working myself too hard.


I don't like to think about it.  Here I am helping my mother, but living together in close quarters has got her acting out through various "routines," where she storms around accusing me of yelling at her ... It's a kind of Hell with or without her, I suppose.  I am destined for heartache, like everyone else.

When I lost my temper, I slammed a door.  Moments later I found myself reflecting on when Schopenhauer slammed the door on his mother during a heated argument, and they never saw each other again after that.  Very dramatic.  What a wonderful world.

She thinks she owns me.   I end up staying up all night to make sense of what I am trying to concentrate on throughout constant interruptions, and then I become anxious and depressed, thinking that perhaps the "gods" are having a good laugh at my expense.   

There is something changing within me.  I am becoming colder and agonizingly cynical about the nature of a parent's love for a child.  Am I just a resource.   Were I to take to drink, the show would be over.