It's Memorial Day weekend and school starts again tomorrow. I've yet to even think about how I'm going to go about organizing my class work this summer, but I know it's going to be vigorous.
I'm turning twenty five next week and I lose my insurance with my parents. Fortunately for me, I've bought myself some more of that nifty insurance stuff that I probably don't even need anyway because I rarely get myself seriously hurt or sick enough that I have to see a doctor. I see my doctor maybe once a year for annual check-ups. Otherwise, I don't even see the doctor's parking lot at all for a long time. My immune system is in tip-top shape, and I can take care of myself just fine when I get sick.
But back to my utterly insignificant ramblings...
A lot of thoughts come into your mind when you least expect them to. For me, they happen when you've got a lot to think about and a lot of time to let your mind think. Random things come to mind whenever I simply sit and play Minesweeper on the computer. Even more random thoughts happen as I'm showering.
Worse yet, today I've realized just how much of a caring and compassionate person that I... well, that I'm not.
It's Memorial Day weekend and it's a chance for all families to get together, visit the graves and have a picnic or barbeque. I go walking with my friend, then I visit my grandparents' graves with my family and everything feels so obligated and meaningless.
For a few dull, odd minutes, my parents debated over which side of grandma's nameplate to stand on to be correct. To the side, an old man stood before another grave and bowed his head in respect as he was probably thinking about old times and remembering things about his deceased loved one. Back to grandma's grave, my parents are now discussing my grandmother's true age because, after all, let's face it, all Asian women who'd come to America will falsify their age at some point in time. And apparently, my grandmother was one of them.
Dad wanted to make sure we knew that.
After our simple little visit, we walked away and my parents end up discussing why there's a particular tombstone that is shaped oddly like a bench with only one name inscribed into it. My dad conveniently points out that another grave nearby belongs to the guy of the same name on the bench and Mom wonders why someone would want to put a bench in the middle of a cemetery anyway.
Dad says that people donate to the funeral home and get their names carved in places. For instance, some trees were donated and little plaques are set up next to them to indicate exactly who had done this nice deed for the home.
So there's my lovely little life in a nutshell of reminiscing about deceased loved ones. To make matters more interesting, the one major thing that I actually notice about my grandfather's grave when he'd visited him (at another cemetery earlier) was that his tombstone was leaning very far forward. But it's okay, right? Because all of the other tombstones are also leaning very far forward.
Dad says it's to make them look ancient or to depict which graves are older than others.
But you know, I'm not sure how much of what Dad said today was really just guesses, cause I'm sure landscaping has a lot to do with how the tombstones are put down...
But anyway, enough about depressing cemetery conversation between my parents.
In a nutshell, it just seems as if I found the conversation much more amusing over realizing that Memorial Day is supposed to have meaning behind it. Instead, I find no meaning behind anything anymore.
I've discussed this with my friend. There are no holidays out there that have any meaning for me. None of them actually do anything for me at all. Nothing holds meaning for me and it's not just about the holidays or whatnot.
I've found that sometimes I can be completely indifferent to my friends' cries for attention and help. Sometimes whenever they talk, I just don't care. Whenever some other acquaintances seem to have issues piling up in their laps, I just don't care. Whenever people I know seem to be breaking down and having a hard time... well, again, I simply just don't care.
I don't care enough to listen and I don't care enough to offer my condolences, nonetheless offer a shoulder to cry on or a false promise of "Let me know what I can do to help you." Because sometimes those words are said hollowly anyway and you expect that 99 percent of the time, you won't be told if there's really something that you can do to help.
I don't offer any of that because I know for a fact that there is never anything that can be done to help or to make things better.
And in my mind, people love to lay out their problems to the world anyway. I've always said it: People love to glorify their misery. Drama is a true best friend to many, especially a lot of women. It's a sad thing to admit, but it's the truth. But don't get me started on that soap box of opinions.
Simply put, I'm just a horrible, horrible little person.
I mean, just the other day, I was talking to my best friend and telling her about that guy I have a crush on who has a girlfriend. I'm a bad person when it comes to dating and I'm not quite sure that I'll ever be ready to take on relationships of the romantic, intimate kind. But my exact words to my best friend had been, "Is it bad that I'm waiting for them to break up?"
Oh yea, I'm a horrible person. I really do like him, but I barely know him. And I think he's a great guy and because he has a girlfriend, I don't ever want to hear about it. I just like to hear that he's single and willing to hang out with friends regularly. But I just don't like hearing about his girlfriend and I'm wanting them to break up. The most horrible part of this situation, however, is the fact that even if he breaks up, he won't be interested in dating me and if he is, I don't know how I owuld handle it.
I definitely won't be the one doing anything to make things happen.
So, in the end, I'm just a horrible, unsympathetic, incompassionate jerk. It's great, we have so much fun being assholes.
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