'Tis the season.

'Tis the season of family happiness again. It began a little before equinox and it's riding me like the man who came across the armies of Satan while on a pleasant day out.

Not a day passes without a major fallout with my mother. It's fucking charming is what it is. Like putting a cobra and a mongoose in a pit and showering them with red hot volcanic pebbles for more effect. Like arranging a blind date between a fascist and an anarchist. Blind date I said? No, not quite. More like the two of them stuck in a narrow elevator due to a power cut that will last for a week. Make that a year and you'll know what I mean. If she wasn't my mother, people would have thought we have been married for half a century. Only such couples hate each other's guts so much.

I am trying to see what I am doing wrong and I can't locate it even if my life depended on it. In this case, it is not my life but my sanity; at least a negligible amount that is left. I will try again tonight to do my little hocus pocus. If this doesn't work, I will have to ask the patience bank to extend my credit for an undefined period of time. And I'll also replace all the knives in the house with plastic ones. Just in case.

When everything goes wrong I always try to remind myself of one of the most valid truths from my magic quotations box. "This too shall pass". And just like any other rule, or quotation, or anything that there is, really, it has exceptions. Every rule has exceptions; even this rule.

I am just so tired. I am almost thirty three and there are days I feel sixty. All the things I want to do are always inaccessible, and I don't think there is anyone else with more suppressed desires than me, except maybe for someone who was sentenced to a lifetime of imprisonment at nineteen. However, there are cracks on my prison wall now, I can see them clearly. Perhaps this is what she too sees, and she is scared.

She should not be afraid. It's what they say: If you really love something, set it free. If it comes back willingly, it will be yours forever. If it doesn't, take a shotgun and shoot the motherfucker. :-)

[I borrowed the picture from Alexia's photos- it's Mr Argh! Say hello to Mr. Argh, everyone.]