Fox Catching

I watched Foxcatcher last night and it made me ponder loneliness, the wealthy version, and the perils of searching for unconditional love from a mother and never getting it. It’s too bad DuPont was so clearly incredibly fucked up because if he’d been reachable, and I’d had a Tardis, I could have told him that we just have to find our own joy*. That spending our lives striving for the impossible will only lead to bad things. Like pain and sorrow and, in his case, prison. There was so much unsaid in the movie, so much that didn’t need to be said, and it’s those kind of movies that make movies worth watching. Like a good book that sticks with you like the jelly on the outside of the jelly jar (some jelly eaters are messy) that gets on your fingers and won’t come off until you actually wash your hands. Just wiping them won’t get rid of it. Or like one of those dreams that makes you wonder if there might be an entirely other reality that can only be visited while you’re sleeping in this one. The kind of dream that you carry with you in your head the next day, catching glimpses of that other life when you let your mind wander.

I’ve been fending off my own mother this week who, like my ex, will only contact me via email. She suddenly remembers I exist and fills a paragraph with a random assortment of questions, demands and guilt. The last doesn’t work on me. I live guilt free when it comes to what she, and my ex, want from me. Which is a lot; I give very little in return. It’s how it has to be. He wants to see his kids except they are expensive to feed. This surprises him because he hasn’t had to pay attention until now. She wants to see her grandchildren but also demands a pound or two of flesh. I don’t deal with Shylocks. I also won’t do Easter anymore. Easter is a ridiculous holiday for an atheist to celebrate. Especially when forced to celebrate it with a crazy person.

I’ve had to shut down the dating sites too, speaking of crazy people. Only creepy men contact me and none respond to my messages. And when I was matched to a trans guy in a polyamorous marriage? That was the last straw. Perhaps it was a bad day for OKC or something but….no. No more. I can’t do it anymore. I’ll just stay at home and keep tidying and watch movies with my cats. I’ll just hang out with friends, like I did today. I’ll just keep writing my new story. I’ll just wait for the snow to melt and the sun to warm things up so I can work on the garden again. I’ll just try not to be a mother who completely fucks up a child in an irreversible way.

Winter is – thank you JEEBUS – coming to a close, and while I’m very, very unhappy that this is the last day of REAL TIME until November, I’m glad that the weather’s on the upswing and the days will get warmer and I can reacquaint myself with the outside and listen to spring peepers and insects trill in the night. I can paint my deck and plant my gardens and watch things grow. I can mow my acres and write my novel and have fun with my daughters. And the people who create their own worlds of negativity will stay on the other side of the fence. Even if I have to keep building it higher.

*In real life DuPont’s mother died years before he killed Dave Shultz so I wanted to appeal to the fictional DuPont whose fictional mother rejected him.

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