R U HERE? M I – September 22, 2013
So, after forty years of good playwriting and three years of
mediocre poetry, it’s been suggested that I hunt down and tame the elusive
essay. Ah, what an intellectual bunch we are on Facebook: suggesting essays
instead of flower arranging or knitting. Yes, I know that I will get fifty FB comments
defining ‘essay’ and how I’m screwing up the form, but…your suggestions will be
appreciated…through gritted teeth at times…but appreciated, damn it. I pray
that you will not sweat the grammar to death, as the reason I became a
playwright is that I do not see dangling participles but I will put them into a
speech if they sound natural. Playwrights don’t have to do that there grammar
stuff right.
Thank God for Spell Check.
I will begin this with a statement you will not agree with.
While we are all shining stars, all alike and valuable…I am flawed. Please, no happy
bright reassurances, I have to confront the reality of being raised by a
control freak Mother. When I ran screaming into the night at the age of 19, I
was not aware that she had undermined my self worth and self confidence and had
habituated me into taking care of She Who Deigned to Permit To Live If I Was of
Service to Her. That I left her was also
the best thing that happened to her as she remarried to find companionship.
As for my companionship, I was ripe for anyone who needed to
control others. Being rudimentarily female, these masters would all be men.
It’s taken me till the age of 64 to realize that they were all also as
rejecting and impossible to please as Mom. Part of the Controller is that they
will always criticize you, no matter what you are doing for them. (Including
paying the bills and keeping house for two husbands.) But I always tried to do
better for them. I always thought it was my fault that they didn’t want to do
anything for me, that I was unlovable and unreasonable and uneducated and
inferior. I eventually left them all and here’s the funny thing…they are all
still alone in their 60’s and 70’s because is no way to satisfy a control freak.
It’s not about whether or not you do it ‘right’, it’s about control, and so you
can never do it ‘right.”
All right. This is Essay 1 and the fun has just begun.
And only one Spell Check error!!!!!
