So, I’m catching up on my movies. Just watched Chamber of Secrets. That’s two movies in one week.
What’s the world coming to?
So, I’m catching up on my movies. Just watched Chamber of Secrets. That’s two movies in one week.
What’s the world coming to?
So, I guess you’ve already heard about Equilibrium.
It’s a science fiction movie with no budget. Christian Bale and Taye Diggs star in it. Its source material draws from Fahrenheit 451, 1984, and A Brave New World. It’s a slow paced movie–something like Dark City. But that’s not important. What’s fun about this movie is the Gun-Kata, a fictional martial art that treats handguns as extensions of the arms.
Yeah. That was the part that intrigued me, too.
Reading this article in the Washington Post, I am overcome with relief. I felt pressure from my parents, but it was never specifically focused on me becoming a doctor. I was expected to get good grades, and that was about it. In grade school, I would be asked questions like, “Why is this an A minus instead of an A plus?” and “If it’s a ninety-eight, then where are the other two points?”
I received nothing more than the usual academic pressure. Other pursuits were not encouraged. I had one piano lesson in grade school. I don’t know why that wasn’t continued. I played soccer for about one season around fourth grade, then never played again. I was never forced into anything other than private school.
And yet, while my school life was scrutinized, my personal life was assumed to be exemplary. As long as my grades were high enough, I could do whatever I wanted. There was the usual frowning when I went out to the movies or spent my allowance at the arcade, but as long as my grades remained stellar, I was allowed to go out. I could come back at two in the morning, and my parents would let me off with a stern, “Next time, just call us to tell us you’ll be late.”
While I was growing up, I felt that all that they cared about was my academic performance. It was like being a trophy child, something to boast about to their friends. I know better, now. They just wanted me to do well. And they continue to want me to do well. There’s nothing wrong with that.
My brother and I are blessed with good, kind, fair parents. When I think about how well I’m doing now, I can do nothing but point back to my upbringing. My parents were more than fair.
This fairness, this freedom, was completely different from other parents that I knew, and a lot of parents that I know, now. Some of them rebel. Teenage pregnancies. Gangs. Drug abuse.
Others silently resent their parents and grudgingly follow their family’s wishes.
A few move three thousand miles away from their family and find their own way.
Some Filipino parents struggle with raising American children. I’ve seen it.
Why do you want to go out? Why do you want to become an actor? Why are your grades so low? Why do you want to go to a performing arts school? Why? Why? Why?
There’s a lot of why, and when you try to explain, and there’s a curt slap across the mouth for talking back. Sometimes physically. Sometimes verbally. Always emotionally.
The worst part is, as bad as it is for the boys, it’s perhaps a hundredfold worse for the girls.
Ah, yes.
M: You know, since you and I are both cancers, that explains why he gets along so well with us.
PraxisLoki: You’re right.
M: Hey, he could secretly be in love with you, and that’s why he’s dating me.
PraxisLoki: …
PraxisLoki: I don’t want to think about that–but I think you should bring it up before the first time you two have sex.
Pure evil? You tell me.
There was a concert. During which, I realized that I really do not listen to enough live music. I would have preferred a venue with seats, though. Maybe I’m just getting old. To the blond woman drinking beer out of a plastic cup and dancing with undue fervor: I’m new to the whole Aimee Mann thing–but her music has more of a quiet relaxed mood than your not so rhythmic convulsions intimated. Just an opinion.
Speaking of dancing, there was a very pleasant party with one of the married couples that tolerates my company. There was some dancing, mainly of the Dance Dance Revolution sort. There was a fantastic apple cake bread thing which was, er. . . fantastic. I brought gifts for the family that they had sponsored and they gave me dessert. A fair trade.
One night, there was tequila inspired drunken tomfoolery–which explains odd behavior for some, but not for those that were sober. There are movies of said gallivanting, but not anything that I’m putting up on the internet. Some of you can thank me later–you know who you are.
There was also work, which was surprisingly uneventful.
All of the above may or may not be in order. I’m just tired. Let me sleep.