August 4th, 2006
|11:04 pm - An Open Letter to My Family|
I don't want to talk about marriage. I try not to think about it myself. It's not like anything I say matters. Everyone has their own plans for me. The hunt for my wife is on, and, sure, you say you have my best interests in mind, but, to be perfectly honest, I don't trust any of you to find the right woman for me. Because none of you fucking understand me. None of you seem to get me. If you did, you wouldn't continually try to mold me into something I'm not rather than accept me for who I am. I am not sure how I ended up in this family, where everyone cares so bloody much about me but won't extend this care to my person. Why am I the oddball? I would joke about being adopted except my dad's driver's license picture looks exactly like me, and my birth is the stuff of legend, what with the driving ninety miles to the hospital and all.
I've never seemed to fit in. My mom fucked me up good, and I'm defensive and private because of it. I am naturally isolated from all of you, and, frankly, I think the damage you've done is irreparable. You've tried your best to reach out to me, but it's obviously not working. I am a lost cause. My personal life is heavily shielded, and as a result, I haven't even allowed you to get to know me. And I still can't. Look at how careful I have to be in describing my interactions with women in this journal in case, God forbid, one of you stumbles upon it and gets the wrong idea. Rather than deal with the constant questions and assumptions, I choose to withhold information, as it keeps my blood pressure lower.
The sooner you all realize I'm a disappointment and a fuck-up, the happier you will be. Stop expecting anything of me. I'm so sorry I led you on for over twenty years, making you think I was special.
Current Mood: pessimistic
Current Music: Guster - Airport Song (Pastronica Remix)
I feel like crying this just reading this. You are exceptionally special. Intelligent, funny, caring and wonderfully literate. I am sorry you can not connect with your family and so much has happened that you feel you can't have a close relationship with them. I hope one day that changes. You are free to make your own choices and you have to do what makes you happy. And if it m eans defying them, then so be it. But you are in no way a fuck up or any other bad thing you have posted here. You will find that special person and she will be lucky to have you. Much hugs and love to you my friend.
You are exceptionally special. Intelligent, funny, caring and wonderfully literate.
You left out really, really, good-looking.
You mean there's a Cow legend and I don't know it? I am a failure as a stalker/teeny-bopper!
We failures have to stick together.
Familial expectations can suck because they make you feel ungrateful when you don't 'appreciate their concern/attempt for everyone and their freaking brother to interfere in your life'. Hang in there, it took me 32 years to get my Mom to the point where she no longer smacks my hand because I'm 'using inappropriate language for a young lady' when I curse at other drivers.
Familial expectations can suck because they make you feel ungrateful when you don't 'appreciate their concern/attempt for everyone and their freaking brother to interfere in your life'.
That's pretty much exactly it.
Thanks. You guys talk about me? How very serial killer of you.
I don't have any words of wisdom but I can offer *hugs* I hope that helps.
Every little bit helps. I wish they were real and physical, but I will take what I can get.
Dont make me kick your ass dude. Plaster that damn fake smile back on your mug before I call Kristen Bell to come over and dance for you.
Hell, I'll do that anyway, because how can a dancing Kristen not make anyone smile?
But in conclusion, for whatever perceived misstep your family may think you make, there are a bunch of us friend-type folk to pull you back onto the path. Go Team Sunil.
Well, I find you special.
Nobody else on my flist has a tag that mentions kibbles.
You and mutinousmuse
down there should form a fan club for that tag.
|Date:||August 5th, 2006 06:46 am (UTC)|| |
Freakin' wireless access that comes and goes. I just lost what I was going to post, and there's no way I'll be able to recreate it. It was probably no good anyway.
I know what you're going through, sweetheart. It sucks. Just remember it's your life, not theirs, and you're not a disappointment or a fuck-up because you don't conform to their ideal. Make yourself happy and the rest will come.
I happen to think you're a pretty damn special human being. You've got some very unique gifts; you wouldn't be the P-C I know without them. Remember, you can't choose your family, but you can choose your friends. Blood doesn't convey special rights.
Much punctuation to you babe.
Oh, sweetheart. *hug hug hug* I'm glad you're venting about this. You know, you're an honorary Wagner. We think you're pretty darn neat. And we should make one of those pacts that if we're not married by 40 or whatever we'll marry each other. I'm totally there. You're a catch and your folks need to lay off and let you be caught.
But I don't look good in The Outfit, Melanie! I don't think it'll work.
I married a nice man, much to my parents' chagrin. It's not that they mind the nice - it's the lack of any other quantifiable assets that's the rub.
So it goes.
You, however, have something they don't - a "kibbles and angst" tag. And that counts for something.
You and hobviously
up there should form a fan club for that tag.
|Date:||August 5th, 2006 07:42 am (UTC)|| |
Families. They're bitches, man.
And dude, you have an advanced degree. Also, you don't work a crappy McDonald's job (or something equally not fun). You are good at finding a place to live. You can handle yourself like an adult. Because of these, you are officially Not A Fuck-up. (But it's so easy to feel otherwise, isn't it? Arg. To hell with that shit.)
I don't think I'll ever feel like Not A Fuck-up. Until I publish that book and become rich and famous.
Ah, sweetie. I'm sorry this isn't getting any easier for you.
Good God, you've been putting up with my whining for over five years.
I have a cousin who loves me dearly and it's the worst thing ever because she loves this perfect Indian didi who speaks Hindi and loves to dance, not some random American 18 year old who frequently almost fights with her.
She'll do anything for didi except admit the American exists. It's the double punch of blind love: it hurts you and then it makes you feel guilty: I'm sorry, I'm not what you want me to be, never was, never will be.
You're King Cow you know. Hindus think you're sacred, online journalists love you to death and want pieces of you hanging on their mantle piece (in a purely happy sort of way)/marry you.
And yeah it's a pity they'll never know you, but hey- their loss. OOoh your the Scarlet Pimpernel. Except with a sense of humor. And I'm sure you'll find Queen Cow and it'll be perfect and there will be lots of happy cowlets.
Oh, Sunil. I'm so sorry. This is heartbreaking to read.
I don't know what to say except that I think you're pretty terrific.
Sweetie, my heart kind of goes out to you. But only in the sense that my family still half-expects me to settle down with a woman.
You've just gotta do your own thing and now that you're on the West coast, do it shamelessly and boldly. Live for yourself, jewnowwhaddamean?
Did you just call me a Jew? Dude, you're so drunk.