Last night, as you know, I had another fight with my parents. Late in the night, while I was on Skype talking to my friends, I disconnected. Now our internet connection likes to fuck itself once in a while, so I wasn't too distressed. I was just grateful that I wasn't in the middle of a game or anything. This morning, I still had no connection. So I go over to the router in the study--- and guess what I find--- the cable has been pulled. Now Dad hasn't pulled the cable in a looong time. He used it as a parental control tool when I was in high school--- he got worried that I'd stay up too late and play games, so he used to pull out the cable when it was 10pm. Well, he tried to. Except he himself doesn't sleep til about 11.30pm, and back in high school that's when I used to sleep as well. Then in college I slept at 2-4am almost every night, due to the amount of work I had, so whenever Dad pulled the cable I'd just plug it right back in so I can keep researching stuff for my essay. Eventually he stopped.
Then he started again last night. Actually I don't know whether I want to pin the blame on Dad, might've been Mum--- or Mum who told him to. It was really Mum who threw a hissy fit at me last night, for not doing her homework, and for me complaining about my 7 hour shift. She's all like, "I WORK ALL DAY AND I COME HOME AND STILL MAKE YOU DINNER". I think I said in my rage "well nobody asked you to make dinner every night. I could survive on 2min noodles if I wanted to."
So it wasn't all that surprising when my parents didn't call me out to dinner tonight. I went to the kitchen to grab a drink (wasn't actually hungry) and saw that my parents had finished their meal. I kind of just shrug it off, and I wasn't quite stupid enough to ask "why didn't you guys call me", because my parents complain about me not helping prepare dinner and how I have to be called out. Just like how nobody would willingly step on a landmine, yeah?
Dad asked (weird) "aren't you going to eat?" I took that as an invitation, grabbed myself a bowl and started eating. Then Mum, wearing her "I am so pissed right now" expression, gives me this deathly stare while I eat.
"Why don't you go eat your two minute noodles, huh?"
Now at first I didn't quite grasp what she'd said, and I was like, "yeah I ate that for lunch." Then she says it again, and I finally realize she meant last night. I don't say anything back; I just eat my food, drink my water and head back to my room. Stare at her homework with a blank expression, until I realize that I'm kind of pissed off. Go on Facebook for a bit, laugh at the stupid things my friends post, then complain on my blog.
I'm too tired to be angry again. I have work tomorrow, too.
...You know what? I was always under the impression that Mum made dinner because she wanted to. Maybe I'm just whacked, but I was thinking the other day--- yeah I'd iron someone's shirt, do their washing and cook them food, if I loved them enough. I don't really care how womanly, servile and degrading it seems (not that being womanly is degrading), but I'd do that for love. You hear people saying that they'd die for their love, over and over. Well, in my honest opinion, cooking dinner isn't really as bad as dying.
As much as I say "I DON'T WANT TO BE LIKE MY PARENTS, I WON'T BE LIKE THEM", I guess it is inevitable that I display some of their traits. I am as moody and unforgiving as my mother, as cynical and pedantic as my father, and perhaps just as annoying and spiteful as the two of them combined.
It's in moments like these when I want to scream, "God, reshuffle my genes."
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