Penning a thought...

 Again, another disapproving post of my parents and whatever they stand on. Funny right? How rebellious can an adult, a 25 year-old one at that, can get? I've long heard the phrase that "parents know what's best for their children.", and admit it stayed true with the flow of time, but norms have changed, and so do we. Time and tide have never waited for no man, and people become different in mindsets as they grow. Whilst my parents never had the luxuries and afforded the things my sibling and I could, the same could be said of us. We never had the understanding that my grandparents could give to them, allowed them to walk the world and view what was to be, the beauty and the beast of the world. 

Ironic, given that I've always prided upon my experience with matters to speak. But, these experiences did not come with a cost, nor without its aftermath of obtaining the knowledge. I reminisce the days of my past penning down these thoughts, thinking how all the past variations of me would look at the me currently. My youngest self, the one kind soul, would probably be appalled by the vile nature I grew into, from a sweet boy who only wanted to make friends with everyone, to the selfish and horror that he was told of as "bad people", grew into. My teenage self would spew nothing but garbage at my face, indicating his distraught at how I became the definition of what he would violently fight against, a man, an adult. He'd be nothing short but pissed off at the way that I could shoulder so much bullshit, when he would toss a finger and be done with it. My army self? He's now facepalming as he notices the shard of irreversible anger that he knows damn well, ain't supposed to keep all of us down. The frustration is palpable, the words in his mouth rings in my ear, but all for naught as he knows that there is a reason for the anger, the easily frustrated nature borne in me now. It's experience. Experience that we, all now are going through. Like an insect that wants nothing more than to break the cocoon of time and the embrace of my parents, and take out to the skies above. Each piece inside me knows it well. The streak is nothing more than a that, a streak. But a painful streak at that. Each one of them inherently has their own desires, their own ideals they wanna grab onto, but the base is the same, friendship. 

Yes, I'm a man with few friends and secrets to bear. I'm the priest at the church, hearing out everyone, but never being the one telling. I too wanna experience what others do too, learning to fall in love again, after so long, having chats with people I click with. However, that's not the case with my parents, who believe the people we associate with are nothing more than boorish folk. I'll set the record straight: they are too. None of these uncles and aunties that they themselves associate with do speak with anything on my wavelength either. Additionally, even the closest lady friend I've had amongst their children has since grew into a lady who has practically nothing in tune with me. She's got her close friends whom she can confide, and she's more used to sitting at the adult table since there nothing much we can even speak about nowadays. The only conversations I can even dreg to the table is "How's work?" and maybe "Where's your dad?" (There are times her father does not appear with the rest of the family, due to work.) On the other hand? My parents speak at length with them, happily chatting as though they got spades in common. I call bullshit. My few friends are indeed boorish, but nothing that I can't deal with. We have common grounds to speak about despite differences. But, to my parents? They are boorish people, people who are the "bad kids", who do nothing but play games and to them, these games, the entertainment we appreciate? Bad influences, brought upon the fact that we spend a good fortune. Excuse me, but what about those baking materials? The gadgets to make housekeeping easier? To us, those too are money not worth spending. Baking? Learn at a class and don't bring that shit home, I don't need you to remind me of my days of learning to reach autarky. Housekeeping? I'd help, but oh wait, I'd still be scolded even for effort of trying. So there you go. To me, IMO, they aren't worth time nor money learning nor purchase. But never once have I batted an eyelid upon them buying it.

I'm not saying that they aren't allowed to venture out and learn at their age and be dumb as an Amish farmer (And I'm not worried about referencing the Amish, they don't even know the internet exists.), but the fact maintains that we all have different ways of finding enjoyment in our lives. At their age, hobbies exist as a form of entertainment. But to us? They represent more than that. They represent a connection, a bridge to find like-minded folks. To share in the joys of gaming, and perhaps, find out whether there are more things we have in common ground. At this point in both our lives, my sibling and I are looking for different things, but with a common ground: friendship. And it's not like I can't understand my younger brother's appreciation for his peers and friends. He knows that he's unable to share common ground with both of my parents and in a sense, it's escapism that he ventures for. To escape the fact that his parents will never be bothered to understand him and his ideals. Me? I do understand him, but there are things even as siblings, you need to draw a damn line on. Even now, I'm using my own fundamental understanding of psychology to envision his thought process. However, I crave differently. Being the older of the two only has led me to understand that while someone has to hold the fort, I too also need to make anew. I need to venture out there so I can finally understand myself. Whilst I maintain an air of aloofness and hard to comprehend, there are times where I don't even understand why I want to do something. perhaps in a weird twisted sense, I've never lost it, the thrill-seeking nature I carried as a teenager, coupled with the maturity that wants to explore the world, not to have fun, but to understand. Perhaps due to my inherent curiosity, fueled by what I've been studying. 

Cooping up at home for the both of us is indeed stale. The air is stale and so is the monotonous drivel that my parents talk. Plus, the noise that is made from watching their shows too is nothing short of irritation for the both of us. Meeting with friends is the only way out for us, and honestly? I'd rather catch COVID while meeting a friend, than catching it from the stale air around me at home. Jokes aside, I'd honestly prefer to meet a friend safely, then to coop up at home and have to see their mangled faces as we spend out the electricity, gas and water and then hearing them make the same old dumb racket about shit going up. It's the economy, dumbass. Blame the governments and economy for having to tax your shit and increase it due to inflation, not your children aiming to have a future, goddamn it!

Ian