believe me, your parents love you. that's what family means.
people* are so invested in the expectation/default mode of parental love. i'm not sure what compels acquaintances, deans, idiots-at-large, to tell me that they are sure my parents love me. especially when they overhear a side-remark or the manifestations of my knowledge that they, in fact, don't love me.
frankly, the idea that they don't doesn't worry me at all. but i'm sort of concerned about exactly where and why this burning impulse to defend my parents as if love is some feature endemic to bearing/creating children comes from. why are these parent-advocates so invested in the topic? (sure, there seem to be a whole host of topics which strangers think they are such experts on that they can interrupt any conversation in order to muse idiotically in everyone's way. e.g. fate/destiny, george w. bush, vegetarianism, sexism, morality full-stop, and lying etc.)
it seems equally likely that the the passionate connection parents naturally have to their progeny is actually hatred; isn't it more likely that repulsion, contempt, shame, underlie creation? (especially the kind of creation that goes around with the creator's name stapled to the end of itself, making idiotic remarks to innocent strangers.) i mean, i'm reluctant to even send writing which bears my name into the world... and texts are finite and controllably insidious. children aren't. and children are also annoying.
what is so terrifying about the idea of deviant/malicious kinship networks that people i've barely met, eavesdroppers, and strangers feel like it's their task to "remind" me that whatever their behavior, my parents actually love me? deep down. even if no one knows it. not even me or my parents. how come strangers are just abstracted enough to see the truth? you're not in a, thank god, coehlo "novel" so please chill out on the omniscience and overdetermined self-importance. absolute foundationlessness in fact combined with your own interest in the sound of your own voice is not actually enough to make your little life philosophies worthwhile or even moderately entertaining. and informing me that my parent's love me implies that 1. my parent's should love me and i should want them to love me 2. nothing i do can change their love-feelings for me 3. i should want my parents to love me and i should strive to recognize their behavior, whatever it is, as loving 4. because love is there and good and i don't see it then i must actually be complaining about something.... something i shouldn't complain about... and that it is the job of this stranger to realign my worldview so that when he overhears something he will not be so annoyed.
and the reason i mention it is that i'm getting antagonistic about people wasting my time or compelling me to waste my time with chit-chat. but i'd take small talk any day over these brief forays into the meaning of life/family/love.. by people with porridge for brains (or, at the very least, people who i've never met and judged.)
*yes. all of them. all the time.
frankly, the idea that they don't doesn't worry me at all. but i'm sort of concerned about exactly where and why this burning impulse to defend my parents as if love is some feature endemic to bearing/creating children comes from. why are these parent-advocates so invested in the topic? (sure, there seem to be a whole host of topics which strangers think they are such experts on that they can interrupt any conversation in order to muse idiotically in everyone's way. e.g. fate/destiny, george w. bush, vegetarianism, sexism, morality full-stop, and lying etc.)
it seems equally likely that the the passionate connection parents naturally have to their progeny is actually hatred; isn't it more likely that repulsion, contempt, shame, underlie creation? (especially the kind of creation that goes around with the creator's name stapled to the end of itself, making idiotic remarks to innocent strangers.) i mean, i'm reluctant to even send writing which bears my name into the world... and texts are finite and controllably insidious. children aren't. and children are also annoying.
what is so terrifying about the idea of deviant/malicious kinship networks that people i've barely met, eavesdroppers, and strangers feel like it's their task to "remind" me that whatever their behavior, my parents actually love me? deep down. even if no one knows it. not even me or my parents. how come strangers are just abstracted enough to see the truth? you're not in a, thank god, coehlo "novel" so please chill out on the omniscience and overdetermined self-importance. absolute foundationlessness in fact combined with your own interest in the sound of your own voice is not actually enough to make your little life philosophies worthwhile or even moderately entertaining. and informing me that my parent's love me implies that 1. my parent's should love me and i should want them to love me 2. nothing i do can change their love-feelings for me 3. i should want my parents to love me and i should strive to recognize their behavior, whatever it is, as loving 4. because love is there and good and i don't see it then i must actually be complaining about something.... something i shouldn't complain about... and that it is the job of this stranger to realign my worldview so that when he overhears something he will not be so annoyed.
and the reason i mention it is that i'm getting antagonistic about people wasting my time or compelling me to waste my time with chit-chat. but i'd take small talk any day over these brief forays into the meaning of life/family/love.. by people with porridge for brains (or, at the very least, people who i've never met and judged.)
*yes. all of them. all the time.
posted by RNovack at 10:08 AM
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