A Quote by Tig Notaro

My mom was a freethinking artist - she was wild and would do anything to get a laugh from me. She'd go in reverse through a drive-through so I could order from the window: 'Hi, can I get a milk shake?'
I remember one time my cousin telling me - she's got four kids - she would pour the milk down the drain so she could drive to the Dairy Barn just to get out of the house.
She's always been there for me through anything, I can think of many school projects I had to do and I would say, 'Mom, can you help me.' She would help me write a paper or make a poster. She's just been that kind of mom. No matter what, she makes sure I'm alright and I thank her for that.
I really loved making my mom laugh, and I knew that she thought that I was funny. It was really valuable, in my home growing up, to be able to have a chat and participate in a conversation and be funny. Whatever I could do to make my mom laugh could either get me out of trouble or just get me more attention or get me respect in the house.
She goes where she pleases. She appears unhoped for, uncalled for. She moves through doors and walls and windows. Her thoughts move through minds. She enters dreams. She vanishes and is still there. She knows the future and sees through flesh. She is not afraid of anything.
My mom and dad were extremely supportive. But my mom, she definitely made a lot of sacrifices, specifically because she wasn't working at the time. She ended up going and finding a job so she could continue to put me through gymnastics.
She wasn't that tough on me, but I think she was often a little frightened - being a single parent. So it begets this quality of desired absoluteness that doesn't really exist. My sister could crack her up. She'd be getting into trouble and put the Steve Martin arrow through her head and mom would start to laugh. I didn't have the same sort of wiliness.
It scared my mom to death when all my friends started driving. She always told me she wanted me to drive, but I think she kind of felt lucky that I didn't get my permit when all my friends did. I think that's been the hardest thing for her, watching me go out with my friends and literally drive away.
That meant I could come back whenever I could manage it. And she was telling me to go. She knew the decision was too big a load for me to carry by myself. She knew me through and through. She had eyes in the back of her heart.
Both of my parents are music teachers. My mother owns the school that I taught in. My brothers and sisters are musicans. My mom pushed me all the time. She knew that I could do it. She knew more than I did. She thought I would go somewhere. She gave me the job and helped me get equipment, which a lot of parents don't do. Alot of my students had to go out and fight for it.
My mom is a Twilight fan as well and she's just as excited because she's read all the books so I think she wants to see it come alive just like anybody else. My parents supported me from the get-go, they are very supportive which a lot of people don't get. I told my dad I got the part before I told anyone else and he cried and he's so proud and he's so excited. I mean he's amazing and I'm so glad that he's going to sit beside me and go through all of that with me.
I didn’t get her cutting at all. She’d done it sporadically, ever since the accident and it scared me each time. She'd try to explain it to me, how she didn't want to die—she just needed to get it out somehow. She felt so much emotionally, she would say, that a physical outlet—physical pain—was the only way to make the internal pain go away. It was the only way she could control it.
My daughter [Ariana], she's a sweet, lovely girl, but she doesn't have the drive or the belief in herself. As it says in the film, I get touched up thinking about it, no one can give you a career. You have to have that inner drive. She wants it, but she doesn't know how to go for it, she's too shy. To see her perform and come on stage and feel comfortable, you know, she has talent - that was very touching, very moving, for me. She has a really beautiful sound and voice. She's a young girl still, 26, and innocent. She was kind of sheltered.
It seemed to Alabama that, reaching her goal, she would drive the devils that had driven her - that, in proving herself, she would achieve that peace which she imagined went only in surety of one’s self - that she would be able, through the medium of the dance, to command her emotions, to summon love or pity or happiness at will, having provided a channel through which they might flow. She drove herself mercilessly, and the summer dragged on.
Mom wanted to pursue dancing further but she could not, so I think she channelled it through me.
My mother always told me if I rode a motorcycle with a boy, she'd kill me." ... She couldn't hear him laugh, but she felt his body shake. "She wouldn't say that if she knew me," he called back to her confidently. "I'm an excellent driver." -Clary & Jace, pg.289-
I love New York. I first came here with my Mom when I was in 9th grade. I took the subway for the first time and the doors closed between me and my Mom, and I was so scared. I could see her through the window and I didn't know what to do. I got off at the next stop and she caught up to me, but I couldn't stop crying.
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