January 13, 2012: A Feeling of Thoughtful Sadness

Letter: B

CD Number: 30

Track Number: 25

Song: “A Feeling of Thoughtful Sadness” by Burley, Dustin from Melancholy

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(Picture taken from http://www.tollfreenumbers.com/blogs/backorders-2/begging-and-pleading.html)

SON, an early adolescent, is begging his MOTHER to allow him to attend some social scene. She has told him no on multiple occasions and the boy has grown desperate.

MOM

You’ve made it VERY clear that you want to go, but I’m afraid the answer is still no.

SON (searching desperately for a response)

But…but…but…

MOM begins to walk away, SON perks up just before she leaves room with an idea.

SON

Well, I did my homework.

MOM

Good. That’s your responsibility, so it’s good that you are following through on it.

SON

I mean, I did ALL my homework. All of it. So I have nothing to do the rest of the weekend. So you don’t have to worry about me going to this thing and not having my Math to hand in on Monday.

MOM

That’s great son! It sounds like someone is going to have plenty of time to help his father clean the gutters tomorrow afternoon then.

SON (shaking his head in disgust)

The gutters?! Really? Do I have to?

MOM again begins to leave the room and he stops her.

SON

Fine. Fine! I’ll clean the gutters. And if I do that then can I go to—

MOM

No. But I just know your dad will be thrilled for the assistance.

SON

There must be something I can—

MOM

There honestly is not. This is not an attempt to blackmail you into doing extra chores or to follow through on the stuff you should be doing anyway. Your Dad and I talked about it and decided you cannot go. So, please, stop asking.

SON (dejected, mumbling to self)

You know, you are literally killing me.

MOM

I think you mean figuratively, dear, and either way, I think we both know you are overreacting.

SON

I do not mean figuratively. I know what both words mean. I meant literally! And no I am not overreacting. You are killing me. You are like…like…the bird flu of my social life right now.

MOM

Well, that does sound rough. But even if it were true, you still won’t die from it.

SON

Says you.

MOM (rolling her eyes)

Fine. Explain to me exactly how I am killing you.

SON

Fine, Mom, fine. Number 1, by killing my social life, you are ensuring a lifetime of isolation, loneliness, and certainly no romantic prospects. Men who don’t marry live shorter lives. People will depression on average die earlier than those who are “average.” And that does not even take into account the possibility of dying from an accident because no one cares enough to check in on me!

MOM

Wouldn’t you say that’s a little melodramatic?

SON (ignores her, pressing on)

Number 2, by not allowing me to interact with same age peers, I am not being exposed to the bacteria and microbes that they might be.

MOM

That hardly seems like a problem to--

SON (interrupting)

Ahh, but it is. Without exposure, my immune system will not continue to evolve and improve. Then, one day, I catch one of these viruses I could be exposed to tomorrow. But I am too old to properly fight it off and am not immune due to prior exposure. BOOM! Dead! Like that!

MOM (distracted)

Uh…huh. I… see.

SON (noticing he does not have her attention)

Mom! We are talking about the life of your only son and…and you can’t give me a little more attention.

MOM

Oh, son, of course I can. You’ve just given me so much to think about it.

SON

Really? ‘Cause I have a little with

Begins to count it.

SON

…one, two, three, four, six, eight…12 more reasons.

MOM (waiving him off as she leaves the room)

Oh, no need. You’ve opened my eyes. Now I just need some time to give it all a little thought.

SON (confused but excited that he might have won)

Oh…of course. Take your time.

MOM pops her hand back into the room a moment later.

MOM

So, I’ve thought about it

SON (excited)

And?

MOM

The answer is still no. Now go clean the bathroom.

MOM leaves SON alone. He begins to pull out rags to clean the bathroom with, being sulky and occasionally kicking or punching things as they get in his wage.

SON (raising volume of his voice so she can hear him even though she’s left the room)

Can’t believe my own Mom is going to murder me!

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