something in the air????
I've been a Donny Downer lately. I've just been feeling really dumpy. When I get this way I don't like talking to people because I get really irritable and short with them. When I feel this way its not a good idea for me to be around my parents because they ask a lot of questions about everything. I already don't like being asked silly questions and my distaste for it is magnified when I'm feeling the way I feel right now.
My father is respectful towards my irritable nature. He backs off when he knows I need not be bothered and he expresses his concern later. His radar is on point. My mother has no radar.
"Quincy, you're not gonna wear THAT to the graduation are you?"
"When was the last time you had a hair cut?"
"Is this the way to the highway?"
"So, how's Ryan doing?"
"When are YOU gonna get married, Quincy?"
"Do you have your camera?"
"Whats the deal with John [my brother]?!"
"Do you wanna go to Atlanta to see Candy [my sister] in July?"
"You look thin, Quincy. Are you eating?"
"When are you gonna get a raise?"
"When was the last time you went to church?"
"You need to sleep. What time do you go to bed?"
"Is your house clean?"
"Whats wrong with your face?"
I love my mother to no end, but sweet goodness in The Good Lord's Heaven she asks so many questions!!!!! Its rare that she and I have a "normal" conversation. Most times I'm answering questions and biting my tongue from speaking out about her misconceptions of how I live my life.
My father noticed that I was upset, so he made a cute effort to cheer me up later. My father is famous among friends and family for his insanely corny jokes. Here's one he told me yesterday:
Ya' know...there was this foreign guy in the DMV. The guy behind the counter told the foreign guy he would give him a drivers' licesne if he could use the words 'pink', 'green', and 'yellow' in a sentence and make it make sense. The foreign guy thought for a moment and said, "I pink I heard the phone go green, green, green! I picked it up and said, "yellow!"
How could you stay upset after hearing something so ridiculous. John Q. Ledbetter [my dad] knows what he's doing.
Pop's isn't without his quirks, though. I don't like when he asks me about my music. I enjoy talking about anything else with my dad, but I can't stand talking about my music. Its not that he's being intrusive at all and its not that he isn't supportive....actually its the opposite. He's just showing interest in what I'm doing, which I love. My irritation comes from me being disappointed in myself for not having anything new to report.
"So Quincy, what big projects are you working on?"
"Oh, what happened to that guy who said he'd help you get that work on the wetch'call [his interpretation of the phrase 'what you ma' call it']"
He didn't come through.
"Well, you gotta work hard at doin' things on your own, Quincy."
I do, dad.
"Oh well, it'll happen for ya'. Just don't give up."
See? He's being very supportive and I just wish I had good news to tell him for once. I want to be able to call and say, "Dad, I quit my job because music is going so well," or "Dad, I'm moving to New York full time," or "Dad, I made it." I'm tired of nothing happening and I hate being asked about it.
I dunno...I'm sorry this blog is such a downer. I promise I'll refrain from posting anything else unless its happy.