Today's posts have been inspired by Dungeons & Dragons' "Choose Your Own Adventure" series.

What the hell are you talking about, R?

Well, above is the first book of the series, "Dungeon of Dread." My brother and I were OBSESSED with these books waaaaaaaay back in the day...sometime around 1873, I believe. Anyway, I think we got about 12 books into a series of around 80. I haven't seen them around in a while.

So I sent my brother a link to these books...I've been thinking about looking them up for a while, but never really remembered it until a few days ago. My brother lives in Georgia and I haven't seen him for about 14 years, I guess. Things just keep us apart, mostly geography, partially interest and convenience.

So he and I have been emailing back and forth over the past couple of days talking about stuff back in the day. That's all we really ever write about....that or religion. He is a very devout Christian and I'm not much of anything. And to think this is the guy who introduced me to Danzig and Slayer!

It got me thinking a little this week about my mom. I haven't spoken to her in about five years because she's a self-righteous bitch who has only thought of herself since I was around 13. Allegedly, she's a Christian also.

My mom is 52 years old, I think. That's quite a while to be hanging around this big ol' blue marble we call Earth. You would think that's enough time to gain some actual maturity.

Nah.

She's overweight. And when I say overweight, I mean GROSSLY overweight. Having three children will do that to you, I suppose. That's not such a bad thing, really, and I'm sure you're sitting there thinking your mom is kinda lardy also.

After 52 years, here's what she's acquired:

• a sorry attitude
• 150 pounds
• three kids
• two divorces; one from a nut job control freak, one from a verbally-abusive alcoholic

There's a pattern here, people.

Several years ago -- back in 1999, I think -- she had to move in with my grandparents who are wonderful, generous people. I don't know how long she lived there; I know seeing her live there with my half brother was very strange. "This shit isn't supposed to happen this way." There I was, off on my own for several years...she was living with her parents. That's not supposed to happen to older people.

I'm not writing that with any sort of disdainful way. People hit hard times. Alcoholics don't change.

I don't feel mad at her at all; not for the physical and verbal abuse, not for the neglect, and not for her vindictive punishments. I just feel...

sorry.

Yep, sorry. And that's a damn terrible thing...to have to feel sorry for your mother.

But people put themselves in their own situations most of the time. My mother was pregnant at 16; married and gave birth to my awesome brother at 17.

It's cyclic. She's a prime example.

It's something you'd never expect to see with your parents...that's always something that happens to other people's parents until it happens to yours.

Yeah, so what am I trying to get at here? Nothing, really. Lots of people have it worse than I did. I was fed, clothed, had a roof over my head. Lots of kids barely have that. I'm sure there are slews of children who have enough horror in their lives to sink my ship.

There are three children riding their bikes up and down the sidewalk outside of my house.

I hope they are happy.