Moral rectitude

I hate instant messaging because I like to think carefully about what I write. Unlike when I’m talking and any old thing comes out of my mouth.

Someone told me via instant message that she was talking to a potential sugar daddy. Little did she know the typing paralysis she was inducing by telling me this.

My mother is living in my head, and she is shocked and offended by the very idea a sugar daddy. She does not approve. My mother is very judgmental, disapproving and frightened by so many things. She is a woman of moral rectitude. She is good, honest, innocent, and easily shocked. Her best and worst qualities are intertwined. I hate her knee-jerk judgments and the way she disapproves of everything that is outside her limited sphere of experience. But there she is, living inside my head.

If we can muzzle my mother for a second, what do I really think, and what do I want to say to my friend? It seems like a questionable idea to make a deal with a sugar daddy. I wouldn’t feel right about it, personally. But I really don’t know anything about what’s going on. If maybe she likes him. If this might be a way for each to get what they need. People are complicated, they have all kinds of mysterious and deeply rooted needs and desires. Most importantly, other people are not all like me. A good friend would be concerned but not judgmental. She would say, so tell me about this. What’s this about? And she would listen.

The mother-in-my-head thing is related to the perpetual-older-sister thing. On Mardi Gras, drunk and high with my sister, I’m still the responsible one keeping her out of trouble. That’s not a bad thing. My sister considers me a good influence. My mother-in-my-head has kept me from bad situations and experiences. But she keeps me from experiences. If the path of excess is the only road to the tower of wisdom, I’m not going to get there.

Also somewhat related, after the first week of the writing contract, it is obvious that Darcy is truly a creative writer. She is an artist, but I am just thinking thinking thinking, always in paragraphs. I’m not saying that in the way of judging myself harshly. It is what it is.