Sunday, 10 January 2010
Without naming specifics, family members are sometimes crazy. These are people you're supposed to care about, and usually do. But when they, as adults, do silly things, it's totally aggravating.
I was thinking earlier today that adults are really only grown up children. Not a totally unexplored idea, but as I grow up, it's become more clear to me. It's my own little revelation. Usually, most adults want to be comforted when things suck, receive reinforcement and praise when they do good things, and to be liked (even though some may sternly deny this fact, deep down they want to know they're ok and belong somewhere).
So, maybe the crazy comes in when the security net disintegrates, when the reinforcement of teachers, coaches, parents (if you're lucky to have parents who are cognizant), etc. is slowly weened or pulled away and you're like, "Shit, I have to make that decision by myself and no one is going to care what happens either way?" Floating commences, floating which is really free-falling and the combination of your decisions results in landing head first, on your bum, or elf-like on your feet. Yes. Something like that.
Well, I have a family member who is falling to their doom with a blind fold on and the rest of my family is sitting glamorously in the front row, box seats, around the circus ring, spectating and commenting on the form of their descent, much like a fallen trapeze artist. It's frustrating to me that no one is saying anything.
Sitting in my kitchen with my dad describing the financial, familial, physical ignoramus blunder said family member is going through, I can feel myself getting frustrated. I shout in protest, "Why not tell (said-person) how stupid they are! It is clear they are headed for ruin! It would be better than tearing them another one behind their back (no pun intended, but perhaps now that I think about it...)!" My dad responds, "Well how would you like it if someone said what you were doing was stupid?" "Well, I'm not doing something totally ridiculous and potentially damaging to my health and that of my family." "Mmm.."
Then my mom, sitting lazily on the couch by the fire place says, "They're not asking for our advice. They're just telling us what they're doing. They can make their own decisions."
Ahh. With that, I grabbed my sunglasses, and joined the rest of my family in the box seats. Now, patiently, I will watch as my family member falls. Hopefully, when they do, we'll be around to peel them off the ground, or perhaps not. Thus, lesson poignantly learned. Point for mom and dad.