Whenever I have chips and wine I think of my mother. It remains one of the staples of her chill. Whenever I think about my mom I think about my fears of becoming her, which isn’t great. She will be here soon to witness the graduation of yet another son. I’m excited about the graduation part of that scenario. It is a well earned achievement–one she continues to take full credit for. I suppose I have entered into that mental space of realizing that the people around me are generally attuned to a reality and reason that is not in tune with the world as I see it. And with that I bring you…
Some Thoughts:
- The other day I disengaged from a conversation with one of my boys because I recognized the futility of the talk. That doesn’t mean it didn’t bug the crap out of me to the point that I’m writing about it now. It started when I said that I didn’t want to hear life advice from Mr. Beast because we are in a different stratas. My kid responded with ‘what are you talking about?’ I suppose that was the moment I actually chose to disengage but my voice carried through one more statement. I said He’s a millionaire and comes from money. That was the wrong thing to say because he promptly shot into the narrative of Mr. Beast as a self made man who came from nothing. That isn’t the point I was making and… it isn’t entirely true. The point I was making was about where I am in life and where that man is. I cannot drop out of society and study a subject for years. I need to pay bills to keep a roof over his head. My situation–my strata is different. The story he told about Mr. Beast is another example of how filtered reality is for this kids… and how insanely false.
- There are six of us in the household as of now. When we use the cook in bag rice it generally means one bag of rice per person. When there are six people and someone decides to randomly cook a bag a rice, it impacts the coming meal. Now we don’t have enough rice for everyone. It doesn’t matter to them because it doesn’t impact them. They aren’t going to buy another bag of rice to make sure everyone is fed. We are and they’ll act like nothing ever happened in spite of the extra time and effort that defined the experience of having to go back to the store in order to prepare a meal we already had ingredients for. It is always like this. This is life when living with grown children.