» Terrible Parenting

1st post
I love my parents dearly, but I am also very aware of their faults and how it has affected me. I remember being a very young child, hearing about my friends' parents getting divorced, and praying that mine would also. I don't know how they ever decided to get married, because they seem to have nothing in common and I doubt whether they even like each other. They just seem to put up with one another.

So what can one possibly do while trapped in what appears to be a loveless relationship? Well, my dad, an extrovert, opted for being an absent parent. When you aren't at home you don't have to deal with what is happening there. You get to turn a blind eye. My mom, an introvert that is prone to rages, decided to take her anger and frustration out on the children.

When I was 9 years old my mom again wanted to assault me. (She would call these episodes "disciplining" though.) I ran from her and we ended up having a face-off over a round dinner table. No matter how hard she tried to catch me, I remained on the opposite side of the table. This completely infuriated her. The table was partly set for dinner, and my mom had put out these large coaster things for putting hot containers on (do these have a name?). One of them was the closest thing at hand, so in another fit of rage she threw this at me. 5" by 7" of plywood hit me directly under the right eye. I had a black eye for about a week. I was fortunate though. In a parallel universe she hit me half an inch higher and I lost my eye. ;)

There are many other similar stories.

The result? I live 10,000km away from my parents.
(Fri 17th Aug 2007, 13:28, More)

» Pet Peeves

Hair
I have long hair and this invokes one of two assumptions:

1. I must be gay.
Yes, in this day and age there are still some people (even in the UK) who believe that I must be trying to emulate women (despite my beard) -- which no self-respecting manly man would do, of course -- so I must be a raging ass-bandit, ready and eager to rape their young (as they probably are themselves).

2. I must play the guitar, or at least be a metalhead.
No, I don't play the fucking guitar, and, no, I don't listen to metal or rock (anymore). No, I don't want to talk to you about Black Sabbath. Or Iron Maiden. Or Bon Jovi. (Or Queen, when the two assumptions collide.) As a matter of fact, I probably don't want to talk to you at all, especially not about anything relating to guitars or music.

I have never felt like making conversation about other people's follicle habits, so why do others feel compelled to make conversation about mine? I do not understand this at all.
(Wed 7th May 2008, 14:02, More)