Monday, June 28, 2004
The Wrong Side of Bed
I'm in a Mood.
Granted, I've only had 2 hours of sleep in 24 hours. Someone ICQd me and I woke with a snap, and now I can't get back to sleep. Doh.
It's been Bad. Sat and Sun were heavy, heavy evenings. I think I saw about 30 - 40 patients on sat, and more on sun. And I broke my phone. And, and, and. I had a bad dream. It involved my mum nagging me about girls, or rather, specifically, about meeting girls of her choice. Okay, so it sounds funny in retrospect, but at the time it wasn't (in the dream) and I got really, really irked, and I woke up feeling that way. I guess some of it's still there, a latent sense of frustration at nothing in particular.
The scary bit, though, is I think it might become real if I went home for good.
My mom's never really known much about her kid's love life. Probably because
1) he doesn't often have one
2) he doesn't talk about it when he does have one
3) he secretly suspects that as long as he does the choosing, she'll do the disapproving.
evidence -
exhibit A) Paddington.
Yes, the formidable. Well, mum had some choice things to say about Her. Despite not knowing her, and her son's abject refusal to commissurate any of her speculations about their status quo.
and then
B) The Third
I remember mum meeting her for the first time. She acted all nice and mumsy (my folks only go folksy around strangers for some reason) and warm and receptive. And then later, in the privacy of our own castle, she turns to me and says, "... (my mom has pronouncing three dots down to a fine art) whatever happened to the Tall one?"
oh. so suddenly you approve, four years too late. harrrrumph.
I've resisted mum's feeble attempts to hook me up so far, and I guess I take a childish pride in it. Never!! Never will I sink so low!
Besides, how awkward would it be, to meet someone on a "date" because our mothers had arranged it.
I can imagine the dinner conversation.
She "..."
He "."
She "...?"
He "."
She "."
On the other hand, there is a very remote possiblity that my mum will accidentally strike gold, and I'll meet some beautiful, intelligent, funny chick who'll start by pointing out how awkward the whole scenario is, and end the evening by confessing that I'm her soul mate or something. laughs.
ponders.
0.00000000013% probability. Even lower than the chances of England winning the next world cup.
I'm ashamed to say this, but I was nearly tempted to meet the vet the last time around.
So it was a transparent attempt by my mum to find some way of snaring her son back home before he gets irretrievably lost to the evils of the wild west, what with the unconsciously affected ang moh accent and all. (which, anyone who's heard me will attest that it's weird and certainly not affected. Affected would be a permanent public school accent, not the strange hodgepodge of irish, scottish, north and east accents that i've somehow wound up with)
But who knows. She might have been interesting. And maybe even funny.
(pause. daughter of mother's friend. likelihood : - 10020%)
We might have had something in common. (Both trained in london. Mutual ability to bitch about weather.)
And we might have babbled about dogs all night. Hmm. Not. I bet a vet talking about dogs would be like a doctor talking about a patient. Stale, old news. Let's not talk about work...
Sigh. Mebbe I shoulda met up. It might've been funny.
(Txt msg to mother : Thx mum she is gr8 girl. yr sugg tt i drv by clinic obsessively resultd in dinnr d8 we r now married in NY this is picture of our flat, not comng home for dinnr.)
I guess I must be getting old to even weakly consider a match made in mummy.
Granted, I've only had 2 hours of sleep in 24 hours. Someone ICQd me and I woke with a snap, and now I can't get back to sleep. Doh.
It's been Bad. Sat and Sun were heavy, heavy evenings. I think I saw about 30 - 40 patients on sat, and more on sun. And I broke my phone. And, and, and. I had a bad dream. It involved my mum nagging me about girls, or rather, specifically, about meeting girls of her choice. Okay, so it sounds funny in retrospect, but at the time it wasn't (in the dream) and I got really, really irked, and I woke up feeling that way. I guess some of it's still there, a latent sense of frustration at nothing in particular.
The scary bit, though, is I think it might become real if I went home for good.
My mom's never really known much about her kid's love life. Probably because
1) he doesn't often have one
2) he doesn't talk about it when he does have one
3) he secretly suspects that as long as he does the choosing, she'll do the disapproving.
evidence -
exhibit A) Paddington.
Yes, the formidable. Well, mum had some choice things to say about Her. Despite not knowing her, and her son's abject refusal to commissurate any of her speculations about their status quo.
and then
B) The Third
I remember mum meeting her for the first time. She acted all nice and mumsy (my folks only go folksy around strangers for some reason) and warm and receptive. And then later, in the privacy of our own castle, she turns to me and says, "... (my mom has pronouncing three dots down to a fine art) whatever happened to the Tall one?"
oh. so suddenly you approve, four years too late. harrrrumph.
I've resisted mum's feeble attempts to hook me up so far, and I guess I take a childish pride in it. Never!! Never will I sink so low!
Besides, how awkward would it be, to meet someone on a "date" because our mothers had arranged it.
I can imagine the dinner conversation.
She "..."
He "."
She "...?"
He "."
She "."
On the other hand, there is a very remote possiblity that my mum will accidentally strike gold, and I'll meet some beautiful, intelligent, funny chick who'll start by pointing out how awkward the whole scenario is, and end the evening by confessing that I'm her soul mate or something. laughs.
ponders.
0.00000000013% probability. Even lower than the chances of England winning the next world cup.
I'm ashamed to say this, but I was nearly tempted to meet the vet the last time around.
So it was a transparent attempt by my mum to find some way of snaring her son back home before he gets irretrievably lost to the evils of the wild west, what with the unconsciously affected ang moh accent and all. (which, anyone who's heard me will attest that it's weird and certainly not affected. Affected would be a permanent public school accent, not the strange hodgepodge of irish, scottish, north and east accents that i've somehow wound up with)
But who knows. She might have been interesting. And maybe even funny.
(pause. daughter of mother's friend. likelihood : - 10020%)
We might have had something in common. (Both trained in london. Mutual ability to bitch about weather.)
And we might have babbled about dogs all night. Hmm. Not. I bet a vet talking about dogs would be like a doctor talking about a patient. Stale, old news. Let's not talk about work...
Sigh. Mebbe I shoulda met up. It might've been funny.
(Txt msg to mother : Thx mum she is gr8 girl. yr sugg tt i drv by clinic obsessively resultd in dinnr d8 we r now married in NY this is picture of our flat, not comng home for dinnr.)
I guess I must be getting old to even weakly consider a match made in mummy.
