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Dec. 15th, 2003 08:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
levertovfanMy life in general continues to revolve around the big dump of library books on my bedroom floor. My mind and my eyes play tricks on me: sometimes I think it's expanding and other times I feel it isn't really that big. Since the number of books and articles haven't expanded in the past few days, it must be psychovisual. Is that a word? Well, I guess I just coined it.
It was a full weekend. I went into the city to work at at the San Francisco foodbank with the NoCal Carleton Club on Saturday and took a second trip in Sunday with my mother to go to the Dickins Christmas fair. The Dickins Fair itself was enjoyable. It reminded me of my fifth grade year, when my family traveled to England to spend Christmas with the Bud-Wolff family, who are now divorced. The whole fair grounds smelled like cinnamon and cloves and the other spices in mulled wine, whatever they are. Being with my mother, on the other hand, was an ordeal. You know the feeling when you are trying to stay together with one person in a crowded area and they keep wandering around and so you are forced to adjust your position according to their position and ultimately it feels like there is some sort of tension-filled spring joining you? Well, it felt like that.
For the entire hour and a half ride home, Mom kept peppering me with these ridiculous questions in an attempt to find out what my life is like, but every time I was about to say something interesting, she would interupt with a useless, detail-y sort of question, like how many history majors are there in my class or what Marriot serves at their Thanksgiving feast or various nit-picky question about how Carleton runs that I don't even know the answer to. It gave me a huge headache and I ultimately ended up yelling at her, which I haven't done for quite a while. After I was done yelling and she was done Non-Violent-Communicating (she belongs to a group called Non Violent Communication), she made some comment about how each of us were easily the most frustrating person in the other person's life. It's probably true.
It was a full weekend. I went into the city to work at at the San Francisco foodbank with the NoCal Carleton Club on Saturday and took a second trip in Sunday with my mother to go to the Dickins Christmas fair. The Dickins Fair itself was enjoyable. It reminded me of my fifth grade year, when my family traveled to England to spend Christmas with the Bud-Wolff family, who are now divorced. The whole fair grounds smelled like cinnamon and cloves and the other spices in mulled wine, whatever they are. Being with my mother, on the other hand, was an ordeal. You know the feeling when you are trying to stay together with one person in a crowded area and they keep wandering around and so you are forced to adjust your position according to their position and ultimately it feels like there is some sort of tension-filled spring joining you? Well, it felt like that.
For the entire hour and a half ride home, Mom kept peppering me with these ridiculous questions in an attempt to find out what my life is like, but every time I was about to say something interesting, she would interupt with a useless, detail-y sort of question, like how many history majors are there in my class or what Marriot serves at their Thanksgiving feast or various nit-picky question about how Carleton runs that I don't even know the answer to. It gave me a huge headache and I ultimately ended up yelling at her, which I haven't done for quite a while. After I was done yelling and she was done Non-Violent-Communicating (she belongs to a group called Non Violent Communication), she made some comment about how each of us were easily the most frustrating person in the other person's life. It's probably true.
