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Dec. 14th, 2003 10:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fredericksI need to get out of this house. No, that's not a whine-y teenager moment, that's a sane adult moment.
One, this house is always filthy. And when I say filthy, I mean cluttered and dirty. Full of stuff that's not used and not needed, but people feel obligated to hold on to. Mom rarely cleans anymore; sometimes I understand because, hell, she works nights and then has to put up with all of us but other times it just makes me want to explode. Not the fact that she doesn't clean as much as she actively dirties up the house without a care. Like she'll cook dinner and leave vegetable peelings (or what have you) in the sink and leave empty cans on the counter without taking the two seconds to dispose of them. Or she'll go shopping (grocery, clothing, what have you) and drop the bags on the floor in the kitchen without a word. Or she'll leave her shoes sprawled in the living room. Or she'll drop her clothing on the railing to the stairs or on the ironing board and not move them.
Am I nitpicking? I don't know. But I feel I can rant about her because she's the one individual I'd expect at least to give a rat's ass about how the place looks. Any effort I put into cleaning is basically erased within two days time. The youngest brothers are a lost cause. It's like by the time they came around mom just stopped giving a shit. They drop garbage any and everywhere. They don't clean up after themselves. I have to needle them into doing anything about the situation here. The oldest tries occasionally but he needs to be reminded every so often and encouraged because he gets as pissed and discouraged about the state of affairs in this house as I do. We usually commiserate when we can find it in ourselves to try to do something to stem the tide. And my father, dear Lord, the man wouldn't know what a mop or dustpan was if they smacked him in the face. To his credit, though, he always cleans up after himself. He just never does anything to clean up the house besides bitch and scream at us about how we always dirt the house and blah blah blah.
He's also a big part of the reason why I know I can't stay here. How long does he think he can order me around? I should back up. So today I had some errands to run around and take care of, starting with a meeting this morning at 10:30. Dad's nagged to me (read: "commanded me") to go to church, which by default makes me want to not go, but his word is law (*snort*). My plan, from Saturday night, was to go to my meeting at 10:30, make it to church for 12, and then head to the gym. What I didn't count on was the 3-4 inches of snow that started from early this morning and the slowness of the required bus (no car, no drive, no license). I made it to my meeting on time only because the neighbors gave me a drop halfway. I ended up leaving the meeting around 11 and started waiting for the Q1 in the billowing snow around 11:10. I figured that the ride to the church wouldn't be more than 20 minutes, even in the snow, so I'd be golden. By the time 11:50 hit and there was no Q1 in sight I knew I was screwed. I waited until 12:10 before calling home and telling mom that I'd just head to the gym because there was no way that I was going to make it in time for the sacrament. See, here's my problem - I called home to say this. Why the fuck would I have to call and tell my folks that I'm couldn't make it to Mass? How old am I again?
But whatever. So I knew I'd catch flack from my father but I thought he'd be slightly understanding seeing as a, I did call and b, it was snowing like crazy outside and I was freezing my na-nas off waiting for the blasted Q1. But, of course, when he comes in the first thing he starts accusing me of is purposely not going to church. Now, I can admit, there were other Masses I could have attended today. I could have, for instance, gone to 7:30 Mass and then headed to my meeting. But I was tired of waking up at 6, 7 o'clock in the morning all the bloody time. For once I wanted to sleep in past 8. And, as I mentioned above, being ordered to do anything by my father automatically makes me want to do just the opposite. I occasionally want to go to Mass, but I don't want to be forced to go. It takes the meaning out of it for me.
So, during the chewing out he gave me (because the man can never be succinct, he must babble on and on as if he's the wisest thing this side of the Atlantic when most of the time he comes off as an ignorant idiot) he asked me if I went to church when I was at school. I said occasionally. He asked me why. And I asked him why. Because he doesn't go to church. Oh, he used to, but that was years and years ago. He doesn't even muster himself up for the holy days of obligation. Then he asked me if I was questioning him. That's how things run with him, you can't question anything he says. Fucking frustrating as all hell. And it's convenient for him to pull that card out when he's been trumped. Because, believe me, I had his ass in a noose with that one. He orders us to go to church while he sits on his ass. What precisely is that instilling in us? in my younger brothers? That church is punishment, something you're forced to do by those with more authority, and once you get old enough you can renounce it and sit on your ass watching television. We didn't end up resolving anything (although there's never really any resolution with him - he's always right and you're always wrong); I ended up going into the kitchen to finish cleaning off the stove (!) and he went back to watching football once my brother (thankfully) provided a well-timed distraction.
That's just a sample of what I (we) get from him. The man's wonderful on the occasion and he has some great qualities: he's a good provider, he can be exceedingly kind and loving, and he's generous. But I would never ever put up with the crap my mom's had to put up with from him. You know how Freudians always say that girls use their father as a template for all future male partners? I single-handedly debunk that theory. I'd never date or be remotely interested in someone that has the machismo mindset my father has. He'd be dropped faster than a hot potato.
Hmm. Oh yeah, totally cathartic.
Since I'm in... "The Rant Zone" ::cue echo and creepy music::, what's up with Christmas? For some reason I didn't realize how...detached the day's become until after I watched the Justice League holiday special. It was like one of those "eureka" moments, so although the JL mention seems like a total non-sequitur it really isn't. Christmas. Christ-mas. So where's religion mentioned? Since when did the celebration of the birth of the savior of Christians become the celebration of the fat guy in the red suit giving out free shit? When kids run around singing Christmas Carols, do they realize that "Santa Claus" is a saint? I get a kick out of imagining Protestants singing "Down through the chimney with old Saint Nick" without flinching and cursing the Catholics and their damned idol saints. Now, if I haven't made it clear, I'm not the most steadfast of Catholics. I used to be, but, to be honest and at the same time sacrilegiously flip, my faith is troubled. And it's because of that that I'm not really sure why the whole Christmas thing is now bugging me. But, hey, that's how my noodle works. At this point, with the whole religious meaning behind the day lost, I wonder if atheists and agnostics celebrate the day as well. I'm not shitting on atheists, agnostics, Jews, Muslims, Zoroastrians, Bahaists, pagans, or "others" at all, but it wouldn't surprise me if non-Christians had no problem celebrating the day as well, seeing as its become so commercial and empty. In JL's attempt to be PC and not offend the non-Christian viewers they basically opened my eyes. Good job, Dini! Nice episode too, btw. It's always great to see Flash get pimp-smacked with a (ray)gun.
Life's been quiet. I picked up presents for my brothers, but we're still blanking on what to get our mother and father for Christmas (she says after whining about the commercialization of the day - yes, yes, I see the irony and I revel in it). Dad rarely opens what he gets and mom's nearly impossible to shop for. I enjoy the surprising aspect of gift-giving; giving someone something they'll enjoy and need. Mom said she wants to get dad a wine-cooler, which I know he'll utilize...but what to get her...hmmm. Anyway, I'll think of something.
Fin.
One, this house is always filthy. And when I say filthy, I mean cluttered and dirty. Full of stuff that's not used and not needed, but people feel obligated to hold on to. Mom rarely cleans anymore; sometimes I understand because, hell, she works nights and then has to put up with all of us but other times it just makes me want to explode. Not the fact that she doesn't clean as much as she actively dirties up the house without a care. Like she'll cook dinner and leave vegetable peelings (or what have you) in the sink and leave empty cans on the counter without taking the two seconds to dispose of them. Or she'll go shopping (grocery, clothing, what have you) and drop the bags on the floor in the kitchen without a word. Or she'll leave her shoes sprawled in the living room. Or she'll drop her clothing on the railing to the stairs or on the ironing board and not move them.
Am I nitpicking? I don't know. But I feel I can rant about her because she's the one individual I'd expect at least to give a rat's ass about how the place looks. Any effort I put into cleaning is basically erased within two days time. The youngest brothers are a lost cause. It's like by the time they came around mom just stopped giving a shit. They drop garbage any and everywhere. They don't clean up after themselves. I have to needle them into doing anything about the situation here. The oldest tries occasionally but he needs to be reminded every so often and encouraged because he gets as pissed and discouraged about the state of affairs in this house as I do. We usually commiserate when we can find it in ourselves to try to do something to stem the tide. And my father, dear Lord, the man wouldn't know what a mop or dustpan was if they smacked him in the face. To his credit, though, he always cleans up after himself. He just never does anything to clean up the house besides bitch and scream at us about how we always dirt the house and blah blah blah.
He's also a big part of the reason why I know I can't stay here. How long does he think he can order me around? I should back up. So today I had some errands to run around and take care of, starting with a meeting this morning at 10:30. Dad's nagged to me (read: "commanded me") to go to church, which by default makes me want to not go, but his word is law (*snort*). My plan, from Saturday night, was to go to my meeting at 10:30, make it to church for 12, and then head to the gym. What I didn't count on was the 3-4 inches of snow that started from early this morning and the slowness of the required bus (no car, no drive, no license). I made it to my meeting on time only because the neighbors gave me a drop halfway. I ended up leaving the meeting around 11 and started waiting for the Q1 in the billowing snow around 11:10. I figured that the ride to the church wouldn't be more than 20 minutes, even in the snow, so I'd be golden. By the time 11:50 hit and there was no Q1 in sight I knew I was screwed. I waited until 12:10 before calling home and telling mom that I'd just head to the gym because there was no way that I was going to make it in time for the sacrament. See, here's my problem - I called home to say this. Why the fuck would I have to call and tell my folks that I'm couldn't make it to Mass? How old am I again?
But whatever. So I knew I'd catch flack from my father but I thought he'd be slightly understanding seeing as a, I did call and b, it was snowing like crazy outside and I was freezing my na-nas off waiting for the blasted Q1. But, of course, when he comes in the first thing he starts accusing me of is purposely not going to church. Now, I can admit, there were other Masses I could have attended today. I could have, for instance, gone to 7:30 Mass and then headed to my meeting. But I was tired of waking up at 6, 7 o'clock in the morning all the bloody time. For once I wanted to sleep in past 8. And, as I mentioned above, being ordered to do anything by my father automatically makes me want to do just the opposite. I occasionally want to go to Mass, but I don't want to be forced to go. It takes the meaning out of it for me.
So, during the chewing out he gave me (because the man can never be succinct, he must babble on and on as if he's the wisest thing this side of the Atlantic when most of the time he comes off as an ignorant idiot) he asked me if I went to church when I was at school. I said occasionally. He asked me why. And I asked him why. Because he doesn't go to church. Oh, he used to, but that was years and years ago. He doesn't even muster himself up for the holy days of obligation. Then he asked me if I was questioning him. That's how things run with him, you can't question anything he says. Fucking frustrating as all hell. And it's convenient for him to pull that card out when he's been trumped. Because, believe me, I had his ass in a noose with that one. He orders us to go to church while he sits on his ass. What precisely is that instilling in us? in my younger brothers? That church is punishment, something you're forced to do by those with more authority, and once you get old enough you can renounce it and sit on your ass watching television. We didn't end up resolving anything (although there's never really any resolution with him - he's always right and you're always wrong); I ended up going into the kitchen to finish cleaning off the stove (!) and he went back to watching football once my brother (thankfully) provided a well-timed distraction.
That's just a sample of what I (we) get from him. The man's wonderful on the occasion and he has some great qualities: he's a good provider, he can be exceedingly kind and loving, and he's generous. But I would never ever put up with the crap my mom's had to put up with from him. You know how Freudians always say that girls use their father as a template for all future male partners? I single-handedly debunk that theory. I'd never date or be remotely interested in someone that has the machismo mindset my father has. He'd be dropped faster than a hot potato.
Hmm. Oh yeah, totally cathartic.
Since I'm in... "The Rant Zone" ::cue echo and creepy music::, what's up with Christmas? For some reason I didn't realize how...detached the day's become until after I watched the Justice League holiday special. It was like one of those "eureka" moments, so although the JL mention seems like a total non-sequitur it really isn't. Christmas. Christ-mas. So where's religion mentioned? Since when did the celebration of the birth of the savior of Christians become the celebration of the fat guy in the red suit giving out free shit? When kids run around singing Christmas Carols, do they realize that "Santa Claus" is a saint? I get a kick out of imagining Protestants singing "Down through the chimney with old Saint Nick" without flinching and cursing the Catholics and their damned idol saints. Now, if I haven't made it clear, I'm not the most steadfast of Catholics. I used to be, but, to be honest and at the same time sacrilegiously flip, my faith is troubled. And it's because of that that I'm not really sure why the whole Christmas thing is now bugging me. But, hey, that's how my noodle works. At this point, with the whole religious meaning behind the day lost, I wonder if atheists and agnostics celebrate the day as well. I'm not shitting on atheists, agnostics, Jews, Muslims, Zoroastrians, Bahaists, pagans, or "others" at all, but it wouldn't surprise me if non-Christians had no problem celebrating the day as well, seeing as its become so commercial and empty. In JL's attempt to be PC and not offend the non-Christian viewers they basically opened my eyes. Good job, Dini! Nice episode too, btw. It's always great to see Flash get pimp-smacked with a (ray)gun.
Life's been quiet. I picked up presents for my brothers, but we're still blanking on what to get our mother and father for Christmas (she says after whining about the commercialization of the day - yes, yes, I see the irony and I revel in it). Dad rarely opens what he gets and mom's nearly impossible to shop for. I enjoy the surprising aspect of gift-giving; giving someone something they'll enjoy and need. Mom said she wants to get dad a wine-cooler, which I know he'll utilize...but what to get her...hmmm. Anyway, I'll think of something.
Fin.
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Advice from the un-saintly
Date: 2003-12-14 11:06 pm (UTC)But...
neither is it unique. You have to realize that after living away from home, returning home is the worst thing to do. From having your OWN place to being back in THEIR place.
Your father has his rights and give him his due: he can demand anything of you if you aren't paying rent, because it's his roof. You can always leave if you don't like how *right* he is.
That's why I never last more than a few weeks at home. First of all, I'm home no more than twenty minutes before I'm blamed for the missing cookies and the computer malfunctioning... I have my own rants. It happens even now that I'm married, almost 34 and I'm going to be the father of two children. I still am the one sneaking the cookies -- when I'm sure it was my father.
None of the above makes it right, or easier, but it's a fact of families everywhere. Which is also maybe why your mother doesn't feel like picking up anymore. And feels comfortable making and leaving dirt. After all, it's her place and her dirt.
Again, not very satisfying for you, but I understand how you feel. In my case, it's my mom's car which is always littered with diet coke cans and McDonald's bags. I cannot stand her car. It's always so UNCLEAN.
And in answer to your rant zone, I am an atheist. But it's interesting to note that the whole Christmas thing has been so thoroughly converted to the fat guy in the red suit. I actually don't much care for holidays, except for having dinners with my extended family. The ONLY thing I care about. So yes, I celebrate Christmas with the whole Christmas tree, decorations and gift giving because it is a family moment. If I'm with my Nonna, I go to midnight mass and sing carols with a loud voice -- because it makes her happy. With my other grandparents, I say a loud AMEN with dinner. Because it's a family matter. And I'm proud to have such a wonderful family and happy to have a moment with them, no matter what's behind it.
But to debunk you, a little, Santa Claus isn't originally a saint, but rather a paegan figure. The Church did it's best, as it always has, to attach the underlying paegan festival to a Saint. The Saint's day persisted, until the Christ child was given his for December 25th (again, to mask an underlying paegan festival -- in the tradition of Halloween and All Saint's Day). What happened, of course, is that the underlying tradtions poked through and the Saint's day and the Christ child's day intermingled and became inseparable.
And then came the American invention... via New York and the Dutch tradition of Sinter Klaas -- which evolved into Irving's Night Before Christmas and illustrator Thomas Nast's depiction. And then Macy's and CocaCola took it from there.
And thus Christmas has been thoroughly commercialized and exported to the world. In Japan, people are born Shinto, celebrate Birthdays and Christmas every year until they die Buddhist. Oh and they get married with a Christian ceremony of I do's.
All of it hollow as the YEN can make it. And it's the same in Korea, where the currency at stake is the WON.
But that doesn't mean your Christmas need be hollow -- nor that you need be offended. Because isn't Christmas really about hope and faith? That's how I spend Christmas. Hopeful and with great faith that things will somehow, someday get better.
Every year as a teenager, we celebrated Christmas Eve at a Friend's house. They would always have a wonderful Christmas tree with traditional candles. And we would race the candles. Fabulous game. As your candle went out, you could make a wish only if you caught it and were watching as it went out.
And I always wished for the same thing: Good will toward men and peace on Earth.
So really, Christmas is only as hollow as you make it. And I really miss Christmas dinner with my families. Yet, I always find a moment to hold the wish and the memories in my heart.
Give and ye shall receive, as the saying goes. Give and ye shall receive.
And for your mother -- a foot massage unit.
Merry Christmas,
with love from
Chris.
no subject
Date: 2003-12-16 08:25 pm (UTC)D
Re: Advice from the un-saintly
Date: 2003-12-16 10:03 pm (UTC)*I know my situation/thoughts are not unique. That's not going to stop me from mentioning/ranting about them on LJ. I need at least one place (besides the recesses of my head) where I can vent narcisstically.
*There's a line between being ordered to pick up groceries and being ordered to basically find religion. Dad's commanding of me to attend Mass crosses that line. It has more to do with him being unable to accept that fact that I'm 23, not 9, and I'm grown enough to make my own personal decisions than with the fact that I'm still living under his roof. Believe me.
*You basically (and this is not a knock at all) say everything that I'm thinking. Which is still cool.
*Thanks for the enlightenment. As always, you're like a breath of fresh air.
Hey!
Date: 2003-12-17 07:43 am (UTC)D