Hump day
Conversations between me and my father have acquired a certain constancy lately. There is the usual businesslike exchange of civilities, and then an invariable devolution into a just-short-of-hostile discussion of my motivations for taking my trip. I have the distinct impression that my parents both believe I'm a bit mad for doing this, and I cannot wholly disagree. I do, however, disagree with the reasons for their assessment. I recognize it as an emotional knee-jerk reaction (myself being party to several, of late), but try as I might I think the most I'll be able to do is contain their fears to some manageable baseline.
My parents didn't have it easy. After immigrating from China, they struggled through several tough years in Michigan while my father worked towards his engineering degree. Mom likes to tell me about the long-awaited day she finally got to try an honest-to-goodness American Hamburger, and always laughs at what a profound disappointment it was. They then moved to Oklahoma, where my sister was born. Pressing on to Texas, my dad landed a job with ARAMCO, and six months after I was born they packed us up and moved to Saudi Arabia.
Like most parents, they believe their prime responsibility is to keep their children safe and secure. Being both the youngest and the only male child, I think I was a more central target of their protective instincts than my sister, which would help account for my unquestionable egocentrism. The passing of my sister, no doubt, heightened those protective instincts to an unhappy degree.
So I can understand their reasoning; but I just can't agree with it. They want me to spend my life in comfort; but I've been comfortable all my life, and I've come to realize it's no way to live. A desire for -less- comfort in one's life is, I know, the exclusive privilege of self-obsessed spoiled kids, but that doesn't really change things. This isn't to say I want to go live in the woods and eat berries and squirrels for a year. I just want to get out there and live outside my comfort zone for a little while.
That said, while my intent hasn't changed, my parents' persistent questioning has convinced me that I should examine my reasoning. Just so I know what my expectations are going to be, and how to manage them properly.
The scene here is perfectly set for some serious introspection. I've just poured myself a dram of Redbreast, Thievery Corporation is coming up on the playlist, and my neighbours across the way are so insistently humping that their tender pillow talk can be heard through two sets of windows and a pair of earphones. So, here goes.
I first decided to do this trip as a kind of impulse, when I wasn't in a particularly stable frame of mind; that is, not long after the breakup with Carrie. The more I --
(Ohhh yeaaahh, baby, oh oh oh!)
er... the more I thought about it, though, the more it made --
(*SMACK* Say it, bitch!)
sense. Granted, in a twisted sort of way, but still. And now that I'm feeling more myself, and frankly pretty embarrassed about the --
(Oh baby, oh fuck yeah!)
Christ, never mind. I'm going to turn up the volume and go to sleep.