March 18th, 2013
WHY are you playing video games? Dad came home. My living room was structured in such a way that everything was visible from the door. Turn that thing off.
Hmm… And after a pause, No. I was immersed in my game – my team needed me in the teamfight. I didn’t even look up at him.
Close that thing right now. Who told you you can play? Right, the first thing is to look for who to blame in this situation. Sigh, Asian parents when they’re angry.
Good question. Let me try and remember. I tried to picture his face as he stormed right up to me. In retrospect, a sarcastic comment while ignoring your dad was not the best idea here.
He came next to me and closed the lid of my laptop and looked at me. Didn’t I tell you to not play?
At the time all I could think of how my team could probably handle the rest of the game now. I mean we did just win a terribly one-sided teamfight. Really. It was totally in the bag. I let out a slight grin as I looked back up at dad. You know, I think you’re right. You did tell me not play.
Then don’t play.
Hmmm… I did my fake pondering act again. No. I proceeded to reach for the laptop. My dad’s forehead vein almost popped when he saw my hand move.
It’s always a mystery what a guy might do to another guy that’s making him furious. My tired dad from a long day of work probably thought about the various actions he could do. He came between the laptop and me, then kicked my chair. And I, still sitting in it, rolled back to the wall.
I acted as if I was stunned by that, and shook my head as if I was dizzy. I wasn’t actually, but I was enjoying the effect that it had. In typical disputes, the person who uses violence first has already lost the battle.
I stood up, and walked back to him, standing face to face. What do you want?
What do you think?
Perhaps there were better things to say; perhaps this whole engagement could have gone differently. For example, if he just told me to get the hell out the moment he had walked in, I might have submitted. He started with asking why, which I thought was weird and humorous. Perhaps it made me feel superior. At the end of the day, it is simply that I don’t respect my parents. What do I think? Don’t push me. I pushed him back.
I ended up spending the night at a conveniently-placed “Student Life Center” of a certain university next to my house. It was the second night that I was outside by myself. A good friend had convinced me that I should return home before tomorrow morning. When I came back late that night, I found the back door unlocked, and some food left on the kitchen table.
Eventually the grip my parents have over my behavior loosened, and they are starting to understand that I act based on my own interests and beliefs, but more importantly, that I can take care of my own affairs.
I can never say that I regretted how I acted that day. Something about me that just doesn’t regret things. I like to accept them, as a part of life. I did apologize to my dad the next morning, and he forgives me. Later I found out my parents had looked for me at the nearby McDonald’s, and all places that was open 24-hours. When they couldn’t find me, it was my dad that insisted on leaving the backdoor open. I am certain I do not appreciate my parents enough, and I may never do. Perhaps it is simply that they will always treat me like a child, overprotecting, and me always hating it.
— some eight months later —
Ahh, we forgot to order spring rolls! I said on our way out.
Hmm? My mom looks at me strangely. The sky was almost dark; we were in the restaurant for quite some time. I always liked the twilight.
Spring rolls! We forgot to order them! I repeated myself.
Why spring rolls? It’s not New Years or anything.
But we’ve just been to Spring Rolls dinner buffet, and we forgot to order spring rolls!
My dad started laughing. He was in a good mood that day. I just received an offer of admission from the university. A stone landed safely on the bottom of my parent’s hearts.
Can we walk home?
What about the car?
Get it tomorrow?
From what, the police station?
Do you think they would pity us if we said we forgot to order spring rolls from Spring Rolls?
Get in the car.