I’m recovering from what could possibly take precedence as the most wretched Thanksgiving holiday ever. Where do I begin? I decided to take a break from pre-finals cramming and visit my aunt for the holiday. Unfortunately, I came much too late. I arrived about 45 minutes before the arrival of the cousins – o yes, the cousins. Dear God. They spent the entire time prying into my personal affairs – and justifying it! I spent the evening defending myself. Unfortunately, not well enough. It goes without saying that I am NOT a spontaneous thinker. It takes me a little while to process. During this time, my thoughts are still a bit scattered; during this time, I should not be allowed to talk. In a vain attempt to defend myself, my argument included some bullsh!t about giving blood at Salvation Army – WTF!!! When I arrived home, I realized just how many cogent points I could have made, a few were quite brilliant, albeit quite useless post ex facto. In retort to every position addressed, “quippy,” diplomatic remarks ricocheted off my psyche (still after the fact). However, now it’s too late to rectify myself, I simply have to live with the fresh judgments of already judgmental people, hand-picked by me. Even a golden tongue wouldn’t have saved me because had I kept silent, I would have been “smug.” But I suppose it is better to be thought of as a fool than to open one’s mouth and remove all doubt.
By the by, the argument was quite petty. My family had to indirectly find something out about me that I, myself, “should” have told them. Personally, I don’t believe that I “should” be obligated to share anything with anyone unless I, myself, so choose. And I chose not to volunteer this information about myself. Their position was that as a member of the family, I should periodically update them on my whereabouts and whether alls, even if I don’t have steady relationship with them. My position is that relationships are built on trust, and mine cowers and dissipates in their presence. I feel as though if I’ve shared something personal with one person, several others should not know. If I wanted them to, I myself would have told them. If you have to hear it from someone else, it must not have been for you to hear to begin with. Further, if you so swiftly believe something about me that did not directly make a trip from my mouth to your ears, how can I trust your loyalty. If you would readily hang on the receiving end of gossip, then I can only presume that it won’t be too long before the receiver becomes the dispatcher. In which case, again, how can I trust you? If I cannot trust you, I cannot have a relationship with you, and if I cannot have a relationship with you…what do I need with you?? No, I didn’t say any of this, I’m post-venting. I said the aforementioned bullsh about taking blood and seeing me on the streets, etc. It gets worse. My points were valid, but scatterbrained. As I said, I was still processing. I knew where I was going, but I didn’t allow myself enough time to collect my thoughts and glue my argument together.
I’m infuriated primarily because I hate when things fall beyond the boundaries of my control. I should be the one to exercise agency over my own life – hell, it’s mine! If I purchase a Barbie doll, I should be able to clothe her however I choose. Likewise, my life was a gift, given to me to redress whenever, wherever, and however I see fit. It isn’t that I didn’t want them to know, or even that they spoiled a surprise, but simply that I feel violated. That news should have had my stamp of approval and it did not. If it were copyrighted, I could sue for infringement right about now. Information left my parameter without my John Hancock, Jane Doe, whatever, and I should be paid reparations and apologies for it – dammit! As justification, they made the argument that I just so happen to be a Theatre major, and that as such, I should get used to unvolunteered info circulating about me. And in the event that it ever does, we all know where it came from (raised eyebrows). And thus, I end by saying, count your blessings if your family is neither vindictive nor disagreeable. This thanksgiving, I’m thankful for a blog to exercise my carpel-tunnel with petty arguments from the chronicles of my wicked family. Cheers.
(originally posted November 24, 2006; recycled from Yahoo! 360)
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