Bottled Sky

All throughout my teenage years, I was the one with the “cool” parents. I never had to ask permission to go anywhere. My friends had to beg just to be allowed to go to the mall; I could simply inform my parents that I was going on a week-long vacation to some province a few hours before I’m scheduled to leave. While most of my classmates at CSA had to be driven everywhere, I was free to go as I pleased via public transportation. I’ve also had a credit card since I was thirteen.

Yet there was more to my folks’ parenting style than being able to do whatever I wanted. Somehow they still managed to instill a sense of accountability in me. Even without being told, I knew well enough not to abuse my plastic and to never leave without telling them where I was going. Their parenting style may have been unorthodox, but except for the chronic laziness, I’d say I turned out okay.

I was actually teasing them the other day that they should publish a book on parenting just for the amusement of seeing how people would react to their more interesting techniques:

• They encouraged my inner artist to draw on our walls–with washable markers.
• Mom taught me how to climb up my bookcase a la Spider-Man when I was a toddler, so I wouldn’t have to ask for help to get things from high shelves.
• They also taught me to drink at the age of five. They’d take me to office cocktail parties after school, where I’d drink Boone’s Farm in my CSA uniform. By age twelve I had moved on to vodka tonics. I’d drink about four glasses every time my family would bar-hop to hear local rock bands perform. I got my first hangover when I was eight, and since I know how to handle my alcohol, I haven’t had any hangovers since.
• Mom was afraid I wouldn’t obey her orders to stay away from the stove while she was cooking, so to teach me the concept of “hot” she dipped my finger in a mug of hot water. I’d say the lesson worked marvelously–up to now, I still can’t cook to save my life.
• In another “successful lesson,” they helped me understand electricity better by threatening to stick my finger in an electrical socket. I guess I was doomed to suck at electronics and communications engineering right from the start.

And here’s a more recent example of their unique brand of parenting. A couple of years ago I had an evening class, and one afternoon I was heading out to UP to attend said class wearing a very low-cut top and low-hanging jeans. Cue concerned mother.

Mom: You shouldn’t wear sexy clothing on Fridays, because you get home so late. Maybe you should change.

Me: But there’s a cute guy in my Friday class.

Mom: Oh, why didn’t you say so earlier?! In that case, just walk really fast when you’re out on the streets. Have fun!

Yes, I can see it now. “Just Walk Really Fast: Parenting that Works in the Real World.” It’ll be right up there in all the bestseller lists along with “I’ll Think of a Title Later: The Procrastinator’s Guide to Never Getting Anything Done.”

On a totally unrelated topic, check out these photos of my ridiculously handsome dogs, Oreo and TJ. You can click for a larger view.

My parents got me LASIK eye surgery for my birthday this year. My dad and I both had it done last Friday, and now for the first time in 15 years I have 20/20 vision. It’s quite easily the best birthday gift ever.

Like most of the things I do I didn’t give the surgery much thought beforehand, and it was only when I lay down on the surgical table that it sunk in that I really was having part of my corneas vaporized. So for a moment I was nervous, but I got over it in literally 2 seconds. This was basically how it went down in my head:

Stage 1:  Nonchalance – “Surgery? No big deal!”
Stage 2:  Momentary nerves – “No shit! I’m really doing this!”
Stage 3:  Gung ho recklessness – “Bring on the lasers!”

The procedure itself was painless and it took only about 5 minutes per eye. The first few hours following the surgery was a bitch, though. The pain was bearable, but my eyes teared up continuously and automatically so I just kept them closed until we got home. I functioned remarkably well for a (temporarily) blind person in pain, if I do say so myself. I managed to walk quickly and smoothly from the American Eye Center, which was located in a busy shopping mall, all the way to the car with only a relaxed hold on my aunt’s hand to guide me. I was even able to feed myself takeout food in a moving vehicle.

I did, however, drop some macaroni salad down my cleavage at one point. Picture me blindly fishing pasta out of my bra in traffic with automatic tears flowing from my stinging eyes. Of course I had to giggle a little despite the pain. Wouldn’t you? It was just as hilariously absurd as my tearful toast-eating experience!

Here’s some more hilarious absurdity. My parents and I discovered that I had astigmatism when I ran into our garage wall when I was 7 — poor eyesight equals impaired ability to judge distances. I was running to greet my parents as they came home from work one night when it happened. It was like “Mommeeeeeeeee—SMACK!” My two front teeth collided with cement. Good news: no blood. Bad news: chipped tooth. Bottom line: at least we became aware that I needed glasses.

You know what, I take it back. There was no bad news about that whole incident. I’ve always liked the little nick in my tooth. I think it gives my smile character *grins cheekily* And with my newly restored vision, I see only more reasons to smile.

P.S. Yes, I am in a very good mood

Meet the newest superhero in town, the Amazing Nikki — the girl with the super Chin. In her latest adventure, she used her incredible Chin to ward off the evil forces of the Cement Floor, which she met after battling with the Slippery Rug in the Hallway. When faced with accusations from WonderMom that her slipping was caused by her “imbalanced walking,” the Amazing Nikki used her signature move, the Defiant Chin Jut — which she still managed to pull off magnificently, notwithstanding the fact that at the time she was holding a Betadine-soaked cottonball to her Chin to stop the bleeding — combined with her patented Eye Roll.

The Amazing Nikki cracked jokes with PowerDad at the Superhero Repair Facility (ER to mere mortals), where the ultra-cute DoctorDude happily announced that stitches weren’t necessary and superglued (no kidding!) her Chin back together. Throughout the adventure, all Nikki could think about was how lucky she was that yearbook photos were over and that the cut was right under her face and therefore would not interfere with her relative cuteness too much.

Watch out for the next installment of the Adventures of the Amazing Nikki, where Nikki will attempt to actually finish an assignment without cramming.

I feel like drawing something dark and strange. Dark like a woman with whisper-thin fingers that are long enough to go around someone’s throat thrice and strange like a sunlit sky swarming with little tin-can robots with fairy wings. But I can’t because my artistic skills are limited to the safe and adorable. It’s frustrating to have visions in my head and not being able to let them out.

Still connected with my un-boyfriend search, I got to thinking about the sentence “I love you.” I think it’s overrated. It’s so often misused and abused that it’s lost some of its meaning and impact, at least to me. And when it’s said by someone who thinks love is a feeling, it can be downright sickening. There are a lot of other things I’d rather hear, like what my mom told me last week during a casual chat over breakfast. We were talking about metaphysics (casual?! LOL) and she said that her greatest fear about dying is not dying itself but that she might forget my dad and me. “I don’t ever want to forget you” is much better than “I love you” if you ask me. And I guess what made it more touching was that it didn’t come out being sappy or sentimental – she just said it as a matter of fact. I had to try very hard not to cry when she said that, because tearing up over breakfast cereal is way too weird, even for me

I did cry while eating a piece of toast two years ago, though. I had burnt my tongue and had not been able to eat anything solid for a week when that happened. I was crying because, man, it hurt! But I was laughing at the same time, because I found it so absurd and hilarious to be crying over toast. I bet I’ll never cry, laugh and eat toast all at the same time ever again LOL.

Well, wasn’t this quite the eclectic post! From fairy-bots to I-love-you’s to toast. I should stop typing now. Who knows what I’ll end up writing next.