Well, as I sit here watching the season premier of Will and Grace I'm quickly reminded that it's that time again to write a new article for all of my beloveds deep in the heart of ... well, Missouri. Today's topic of self realization is that there is little consistancy in this world. Yes, people are born, people die, people pay taxes and every year around this time I get a sinus infection where everything smells like a sick mix of snot, onions and pot roast. But more than that, there is the all important consistancy of family. Something I never realized until recently.
You know when I was growing up it was far beyond my mortal comprehension to think that grown adults were anything less than gods waiting to tell me what to do, where to go and who to be, but now that's all becoming an odd little falsehood which has taken me too long to realize. See, when I moved up here I moved in with my parents, not anyone's first choice of living accommodations, but I was willing to give it a go and swallow my crow without the steak sauce or all you can eat side salad and breadsticks. It wasn't long before I discovered that I was talking to my parents more than any friend I have up here. I found myself telling my parent's things that I never would have assumed I could or would have wanted to discuss with them. Everything from job hatred to love and then of course the talk of sex has come up a time or two, but we'll save that for another article. It's not that I've never gotten along with them but I just never viewed them as equals. Then again I guess that does make me sound to be a bit of a high horse kind of guy, but I can't put it in any better terms than that. It's always been me and them, never really us. I never considered that I spent the majority of my childhood trying to be this thing that no one would understand. I was always trying to be something that was so different than anything that had ever come along in this world. The whole time my parents sat there. Letting me make some mistakes on my own while other times being so intrusive (or so I had assumed) that I found an interrogation room to be more private than my home.
But now, oh yes now, I realize how utterly stupid I was and how misunderstood my parents have been. I find myself saying more and more the old phrase "As I got older, my parents got smarter." There is more wisdom in that little statement than I ever would have imagined. It's so sickening sometimes to think, if I would have listen to them more often where I might be today, but then again, if my life was in the gutter I would be wondering why I even wasted my time listening to them in the first place. That's the funny thing about growing up. When you do you start seeing everyone for who they really are. (Parenting skills and all.) You start to see them as human beings who make mistakes and don't really know all the answers.
Well, I'm sorry to make this one so short but I think that's as deep as I'd like to get into this for this month. Until next time, give your folks a hug for me and let them know that you know just how much they messed up before they became what they are today. Peace, love and chick grease.
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