Proliferating personal ideologies
Yes, I do like to devise blog titles that make me sound inordinately verbose. At least it distracts me from the slight throbbing pain in the cartilage of my right ear.
So I grew some balls today and finally got around to getting my ear pierced - having harboured the desire to do so for the past few months, it’s nice to reflect back on it (albeit only ten hours later) and tick it off my “To-Do List”. Let’s all gather round and look at a picture of it (warning: may be anti-climactic):
Yes, it is in my right ear. To be brief about it, the procedure was all of five seconds, and it felt like somebody was pinching my ear. Hard. The kind of pinching that elicits a reaction not unlike “What the HELL, bitch?! What the hell was that for?!” Joyous, no? I was rather happy when we walked out of the piercing place, despite the fact that a circle of blood was slowly forming around the piercing and turning into a dark crimson crust. Mmm. Yum.
Oh, you say, but that can’t be the end of it! And you’re very well right. I got home in the afternoon, and my father didn’t even notice the piercing. It took him an hour of periodically walking past me to finally ask: “What is that on your ear?” I was tempted to answer with: “It’s a ring I can hang my keys on when I don’t need them!” Because my father really is one of the most gullible people I know … despite being almost sixty years old and having a life behind him well-seasoned with experiences and knowledge. But I was a good little boy and said: “Ear piercing.”
Then, he was nice enough to ask: “What does that mean? That you’re gay?”
Cue firm nod on my part.
And then the argument (which later turned into entirely one-sided physical conflict) began. He threw his “strong personal opinion as a superior straight man” at me, in a rage, claiming that I have problems, and that by choosing to be gay, I’ve come to a dead end in terms of “normal, natural reproduction” (yeah, no shit, Sherlock - nice way to put it, though). Blah blah blah. We argued back and forth for a few minutes until he saw fit to bring the possibility of seeing a doctor about my sexuality, going to counselling, etc. And then ultimately ended with: “You’re not normal.”
Thanks, father. Thanks. Although please be sure to verify your facts next time: Your only son does not wish to be normal. There is no such thing as normal. And you are not superior to me just because you adhere to the majority of today’s society in terms of sexual preference, have been married, and had a kid. I’m increasingly grateful that he didn’t bring his experiences during the Vietnam War into things - because the confrontation would have been extended much further.
So it’s several hours after the initial fight. Conflict. Argument. However you’d like to put it. What annoys me the most - and the most ironic and yet hypocritical thing, I find - is that he sees fit to reprimand me and squash my own argument with his, and suggests counselling when he cannot see that he himself requires it. It bothers me that, as a young child, and into adolescence, he was trained in the military to switch off his emotions like a machine. And it bothers me that this has carried over to excessively into his life now, in a new country, away from our homeland, to the point where he pushes everybody away, refuses to acknowledge others’ points of view, and sees fit to be one of the biggest hypocrites I know.
You think I need counselling, father? Do me a favour. Look in the bloody mirror.
All this aside, I applied for ten jobs today. Productive, eh? And - wait for it - I’m a dunce. I applied for something close to fifteen jobs over the past two months, all of which required cover letters, and none of which I got a call back for. And I only realised today, why this is … I forgot to update the date on the cover letter. *headtothefuckingdesk* much? Here I was, in early November, sending out cover letters that had a date from late September written on them.
God, I’m such an idiot. *facepalm*
I need reliable income, and I need to get out of this house, damnit! Never has this been more important. So … raise your glasses, please! Here’s to hoping I get a job! *drinks a plentiful amount* *hic* There we go. Heh.