My Name is Mud

Photo Source: Joe Shlabotnik/Flickr

Today is Wednesday, August 17th and summer is slowly and quickly beginning to wind down. After a couple of days of much needed, but too much, rain, the sun is now shining and the weather is sort of spectacular. Maybe it’s just what I need after a really bad couple of days…

My Name is Mud

At the moment I’m feeling the guilts. You see, I was supposed to be going to a concert at Jones Beach tonight, (Night Ranger, Journey, and Foreigner), and now I am not. Confused? Tell me about it!

It all started about three weeks ago when my sister texted me to ask if I wanted to go to this show. Since I’m not really a fan of any of the three, my first impulse was to say no, but I told her I’d think about it, which I did. It turns out, my mom had already bought five tickets for the show and they wanted me to take the fifth one, much to my own curiosity.

In case you didn’t know it already, I am Italian, and Italian mothers are notorious for making their children feel guilty.

“But ma, I don’t like any of those groups.”

“Well, what about the time I ….”

That was all she needed to say. I relented and until this morning I thought I was going. I’ve had a really shitty few days, both physically and mentally, and I haven’t been in the best of moods, so when mom called this morning to talk about times and such for later I was even less enthusiastic than I had been before. I guess I employed techniques I had learned growing up, for I told her I was going to eat my dinner during one of the performances (Night Ranger, who I really didn’t want to see!), and that’s what set her off.

“You know what, John, I’m gonna call a few people and if I can find someone else to take the ticket, I’ll let you know.” Click!

About a half-hour later, she called back. She was clearly pissed:

“John, I just wanted to let you know you’re off the hook. My friend Pat’s going to go to the concert. You can go out and have a good night all on your own.” I could tell from her tone that she was pissed and I told her not to be. We both exploded into argument mode, me accusing her of dishing out the guilt and she once again reminding me of the sacrifices she made in my name, most notably taking me to a KISS/Judas Priest concert when I was about 13. “I just wanted to spend a nice evening with my son, is that so wrong? You’re a big music person, and I thought you might enjoy yourself,” she dished.

Needless to say, I hung up the phone and now I feel like crap. I never should have said yes in the first place, and I know I was being childish on the phone with her during our first conversation. In my mind sometimes, I kind of blame her for the way I act because I know it’s what I grew up around, but I only have myself to blame really because I should be mature enough to take charge of my own behaviors, no matter how difficult they may seem to break, and not make that excuse for it. Grrrrr…..

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