(no subject)
My parents and I come from such different worlds.
I consider ideals to be what is most important. They did not have the luxury of having ideals. In a way, we’re both right, but when we talk I wonder if we are just talking past each other but will never truly understand each other.
There was a time we lived in the same world, spoke the same language, thought the same thoughts, held the same opinions. Our divergence began on September 1, 1999, the day I moved out to go to college. Since then, they have stayed in their world relatively unchanged, continuing to speak the language of the old country, staying within the community of their peers who did the same. Meanwhile I was carried away by a hurricane of change and world developments, which took me to big cities, other continents, a voyage of self-discovery around the world.
We are so independent now I’m not sure someone could judge we are related. The only thing that connects us is the fact that I visit them a few times a year and give money to my brother. That’s the extent of our connection. We don’t have in depth conversations, don’t discuss politics or the past. In short, we don’t discuss anything of substance. I even doubt they have the mental capacity for it, since living where they live, in the medium sized city’s suburbs, off the beaten path, tends to atrophy people’s brains. It’s not like the big city where we used to live. You had to be fashionable, attend parties with political discussions, take public transit, take part in the public discourse that was shaping the country. It’s a bit sad, but I also don’t care. If you ask them, they will tell you being ignorant is their own choice to make.