half pirate, half ninja...
...raised by robots, apparently.
I think my jaw dropped when I heard my dad say, as he was cleaning, "wow, you know, these Bounty paper towels really are the best--they're the most absorbent brand out there!"
o_____o
The highlight of interactions with my mother was her trying to find out if I was dating someone. I refused to say. She got mad at me, and launched into an overly long rambling monologue on how her coworkers were talking to their eleven and twelve year old daughters about how to find a guy who would treat them with respect and not promise them everything in return for sex and how she wished she'd had that talk with me and I BUST OUT LAUGHING. One, I'm not eleven; two, the implication that sex in any relationship I have is being bartered for affection and commitment instead of being something that I actually want is quite frankly appalling; three, it's pretty clear the therapist never quite managed to impress upon them that I have my own values and belief system that is different from theirs and that that was worth acknowledging in their interactions with me.
You know, sometimes it's really hard to view them as people, as opposed to the personifications of all my neuroses. I realized that I don't know anyone else like them in life because I tend to gravitate towards people who, as Igor puts it, "come pre-installed with a personality module". I may hate the politics of most of my extended family but you know, I at least give them credit for having convictions. I don't know what my parents really believe. They didn't really manage to impress strong moral convictions on me as a child, because they don't really have any. Morals, for them, only go as far as keeping up the appearance of being good people. It's especially important for my dad to do things like moralizing speeches and good gestures when he has an audience, which is anything from deeply irritating to just plain funny.
I prefer to be a guest in their house, to be not close to them, because they tend to treat me better--they trot out the face they put on for guests, and we have a superficially pleasant time.
And my dad is being a selfish ass in trying to get my half-brother's Chinese name changed to commemorate being reunited. Fortunately he is asking for my great aunt's advice and she is trying ot dissuade him from doing this, because tradition holds that it's risky to change your name if you're already doing well in life--change the name, and you change the luck. And he's doing quite well right now. I think the luck bit is all rather dodgy, but I still think it's selfish.
My great aunt also wants to see my brother and me given Chinese names before she leaves this world so she and my dad are back in negotiations for that too. I honestly could care less. They waited waaay too long and they know it, bickering over what to call me. Someday I'll settle on my cilmessë, after the Elvish fashion; in the meantime, all other names are placeholders. I like to decide who I am as far away from my parents' influence as possible.
I think my jaw dropped when I heard my dad say, as he was cleaning, "wow, you know, these Bounty paper towels really are the best--they're the most absorbent brand out there!"
o_____o
The highlight of interactions with my mother was her trying to find out if I was dating someone. I refused to say. She got mad at me, and launched into an overly long rambling monologue on how her coworkers were talking to their eleven and twelve year old daughters about how to find a guy who would treat them with respect and not promise them everything in return for sex and how she wished she'd had that talk with me and I BUST OUT LAUGHING. One, I'm not eleven; two, the implication that sex in any relationship I have is being bartered for affection and commitment instead of being something that I actually want is quite frankly appalling; three, it's pretty clear the therapist never quite managed to impress upon them that I have my own values and belief system that is different from theirs and that that was worth acknowledging in their interactions with me.
You know, sometimes it's really hard to view them as people, as opposed to the personifications of all my neuroses. I realized that I don't know anyone else like them in life because I tend to gravitate towards people who, as Igor puts it, "come pre-installed with a personality module". I may hate the politics of most of my extended family but you know, I at least give them credit for having convictions. I don't know what my parents really believe. They didn't really manage to impress strong moral convictions on me as a child, because they don't really have any. Morals, for them, only go as far as keeping up the appearance of being good people. It's especially important for my dad to do things like moralizing speeches and good gestures when he has an audience, which is anything from deeply irritating to just plain funny.
I prefer to be a guest in their house, to be not close to them, because they tend to treat me better--they trot out the face they put on for guests, and we have a superficially pleasant time.
And my dad is being a selfish ass in trying to get my half-brother's Chinese name changed to commemorate being reunited. Fortunately he is asking for my great aunt's advice and she is trying ot dissuade him from doing this, because tradition holds that it's risky to change your name if you're already doing well in life--change the name, and you change the luck. And he's doing quite well right now. I think the luck bit is all rather dodgy, but I still think it's selfish.
My great aunt also wants to see my brother and me given Chinese names before she leaves this world so she and my dad are back in negotiations for that too. I honestly could care less. They waited waaay too long and they know it, bickering over what to call me. Someday I'll settle on my cilmessë, after the Elvish fashion; in the meantime, all other names are placeholders. I like to decide who I am as far away from my parents' influence as possible.