citizen of the planet

I realize this is probably going to make me sound like a rotten son, but one of the big joys of having my own place is that I have some place to escape to if I ever get into an argument with my parents.  Whenever I visit them, I always hope for something relaxing without any expectations.  I mean if I’m invited over for dinner, all I want is to go over there and enjoy.  Having a nice conversation would be a bonus.  Lately it’s been a bit tough because they’re still adjusting to their new place.  Really, I don’t mind helping with some tasks if that was my purpose for going over there.  Otherwise, the visit just becomes unpleasant.  Combine that with parental expectations and it easy for nerves to become frayed. The fact that I can choose to not partake in whatever negativity is brewing and escape to cool off is a blessing.

Don’t misunderstand: I love my parents dearly.  I just question how well they’ve adjusted to the fact that the old rules no longer apply.  I wonder if I understand that myself.

I had to take a day off work today to help my parents move their stuff from the house to their new condo.  They’ve been packing for this day, but when I arrived at their house this morning I found them rather unprepared.  They really only planned on sending the big items with the movers, and leaving the smaller things to be picked up at a later time.  They made sure they had this luxury by choosing a move date mid-month, and leaving the rest of the month as a transition time.  That’s all well and good, except that they still had a lot of small things lying around in and around the big things.  How the heck they expected the movers to pick up the big items while they were still loaded is sort of beyond me.  The whole situation reminded me of the time we all moved from North York over to Scarborough.  That one move was entirely one of the worst moves ever because we were entirely unprepared.  More than half of everything was unboxed.  The movers were clearly frustrated and didn’t treat my parents all that well.  That bad experience led me to make sure that everything I needed to move when I was moving to my condo was boxed and ready to go.  That move was entirely quick and painless.  For my parents’ move though, I was fearing the worst.

I didn’t want things to be in entirely bad shape, so I was scrambling all over their house to get as much as I could in order.  I emptied out cabinets, and rearranged things so that the movers could have easy access.  All this time, my parents didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned.  Oh man, that bothered the heck out of me.  What if I wasn’t there?  Would they have left things as is?  What if they ended up with another mover with a nasty attitude?  Of course I was worried.  Well, I worked my ass off right up until the movers came.  To my relief, my initial assessment of the movers was a good one.  They seemed like they wouldn’t take advantage of my parents, so I was comfortable leaving them alone.  I drove over to my parents’ new condo and waited.  God, that was a long time.  I actually napped on the couch for a few hours just waiting for them to arrive.  Apparently they took a long time loading up the truck.  I was worried.

When the truck arrived, my father came in and told me to get ready.  I got off the couch and started anticipating things.  Ooh, there sure was a heck of a lot of stuff.  My dad seemed to not want to let go of a lot of furniture, despite the fact that they were downsizing.  My father consistently told me that he measured the big pieces of furniture and that he was sure everything would fit.  There were many moments where the movers and I shared a laugh over his insistence on making things fit.  There were many tight squeezes all over.  In the end, yeah, things fit, but there really needs to be a lot of organization.

I’m glad that my parents are downsizing, because they really do not need a big house for themselves.  They’re now empty-nesters that deserve to have a more relaxed lifestyle.  I would imagine that this move will be their last, so at the very least they won’t have to go through this moving hell again.  This time they were fortunate with the movers who must have had a bit of respect for these elderly folk.  I know that they’ll be able to get everything organized, but it won’t be without a bit of struggle.  The next two weeks will be rough, but I’m sure they’ll enjoy it.  Normalcy is something off in the distance, but they’re patient and hardworking.  Everything will work out; I’m sure of it.

Maybe I’ve mentioned it here before, but I know I’ve told a couple of people that my parents decided to sell their house.  I can only imagine that it’s a difficult thing to transition from striving to buy a big spacious house to cutting back and moving into something smaller.  With me out of the house, it only makes sense for them to downsize.  Therefore, I fully support their decision.  They need to enjoy their years instead of finding themselves entirely concerned with just paying the house off, you know?

Anyway, the process of selling the house started at the beginning of April.  It seemed like things were going well.  The house had a lot of showings, and a heck of a lot of the people that came by liked the house.  They seemed interested and were very complimentary.  My parents patiently waited for an offer to come in, but one never came.  After a few weeks, the frustration was starting to kick in.  I was starting to become worried myself because I didn’t want to see them go through such trouble, you know?  I was telling a friend about this worry when she mentioned a little bit of related Catholic folk magic that seemed to have a following.  All of it revolved around making a petition to St. Joseph who’s the patron saint of the family and home.  Legend says that if you bury a statuette of St. Joseph in the ground and ask for your house to sell, the house will sell shortly thereafter.  If you search the Internet, you’ll find a good amount of stories from people that believe that this worked for them.  I passed this bit of lore over to my parents, and they decided to give it a shot.

On Friday morning, they went over to a religious article store and bought a small statuette.  When they got it home, my father buried it in the front yard and they proceeded to make the petition.  Heck, so did I.  I just wanted my parents to be happy.  The weekend came and went with a couple of showings, but nothing.  Monday came and two families dropped by.  The first one was ready to make an offer but they went well below asking price and had a ridiculous amount of conditions.  Both my parents and their real estate agents were frustrated.  A second family came by shortly after that was more amenable.  The family’s kids were all over the house and were enjoying the deck out back.  The family also placed an offer and actually went a bit over asking price.  And that’s the family that sealed the deal.  So yes, my parents went from having tons of showings but no offers, to having two offers on the same day.

I know, it’s going to sound a little bit insane to attribute any part of this to the lore, but for me I’m willing to believe.  Why not?  Yeah, it’s unscientific, and just crazy…but it’s also fun to think that this had an effect.  So yeah, much gratitude goes up to St. Joseph for looking out for them.  Once the deal is fully done I expect my mother to dig up the statue and put it up some place for people to see.  It sure is an interested story to tell, isn’t it?

I’ve been summoned a couple of times to head over to my parents’ place to work on clearing out a lot of my old stuff that’s still lying around the house.  Today my mother wanted me to work on getting my textbooks out of my room and into my condo.  I had no problem with that, but since I didn’t have a place to put the books I headed over to Ikea to get a bookcase.  Man, that place is like an amusement park.  There were a large amount of families, just strolling about the showrooms.  I was off to the side when a bunch of children came and sat down on two chairs beside me.  The parents asked them if the chairs were comfortable.  The children cheerfully answered, “yeeeeeeah!”  The mother sat down on the chair and opined that they weren’t that comfortable, to which the little girl insisted “But, I think they’re comfortable!” I had to smile at that.  I ended up getting a Billy bookcase as well as a couple of dishes, a Lazy Susan to give me better access to all of the spices I’ve got in the cupboard, and a couple of new pillows for the couch.  Yeah, I’m currently reclined on the couch making use of the awesome new pillows.  Anyway, I somehow managed to haul a 64 lb. flat-pack back up to my unit and assembled the bookcase it with ease. I placed the bookcase between the couch and the window.  It looks appropriate there, but to be honest with it there my living room is now starting to look mildly crowded.  No, it’s not horribly cramped yet, but it’s certainly cozy in here.

So, anyway, with the case assembled I finally headed over to visit my parents.  Prior to gathering the textbooks, mom insisted that I tackle some piles of old bills and other papers.  I agreed and brought the shredder up to my room.  As I was going through, I was simply shocked at how I had a tendency to horde things that had no use anymore.  For example, why did I have pay stubs from 2002?  Hanging onto them couldn’t possibly have had any value even two years after the fact, much less 8 years on.  There were a couple of things that could have had some sentimental value, like some certificates from high school.  Again though, why do I need a certificate saying that I passed grade 12 French?  Bah.  Old bills were well represented.  Cell phone bills from 2003 were kind of interesting.  Some of the envelopes had ads for phones that were coming out back then.  As much as they’re outdated by today’s standards, back then they were amazing.  In the end, I was able to shred 2.5 garbage bags full of old stuff.  I honestly feel relieved to have all of that purged.

After shredding, and having a bit of dinner I finally got to the textbooks.  I started bagging them, but was quickly overwhelmed by how heavy the books were.  Perhaps unintuitively, those books were a heck of a lot heavier than the encyclopedia books I transferred two weeks ago.  After stuffing a bag I tried carrying the thing on my shoulder.  I swear, I felt like my shoulder was just going to break under all of the weight.  Figuring that it would make my trek from the car to the elevator pretty miserable I decided to lighten the load and not bother to even attempt to get everything in one go; two bags of books was enough for today.  Whatever I brought is already shelved and looking fancy.  I think that’s one reason that I didn’t bother selling off all of my books back in university.  As much as I could have made a few extra bucks I figured that the books would at least look good on a shelf.  Some of these books are already almost a decade old.  Crazy!  Having these books in the living room kind of makes me feel like I’m projecting a slightly professional or tech minded persona.  I wonder if anyone will be fooled?  Hmm.

Last night, given that today would be Family Day I decided to sleep over at my parents place just so that we could all have breakfast together.  I didn’t really sleep all that well in my old bed.  I think my body’s just used to the firmness of the new mattress.  I didn’t let it sour my mood too much because breakfast was nice and relaxed. I got to catch up on the various bits of family-related news and the exciting plans and projects on the horizon.

In all of the excitement that came with becoming independent and leaving the nest, there’s one thing that I didn’t realize I’d miss: I really miss having family around.  When I was living with them, it was just so easy to take for granted the fact that they were around.  At the very least, they were people that I could talk to without effort.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I love being on my own.  This is my sanctuary.  Still, mundane socialization now takes a little bit of effort.  For someone like me that’s problematic.  I’m not really the type of person that doesn’t seem to actively reach out unless it’s through some readily available means.  One interesting side result is that my interactions at work with my colleagues suddenly become more important.  Man, how messed up is that?

(Now now, my colleagues are awesome. Just sayin’)

I guess, all I’m saying is that there’s still a lot about this living on my own thing that I have yet to figure out.  I suppose I’m fortunate that I tend to do well enough on my own.  There are a lot of people out there that just need to have people around at all times.  There are also other that need to be in a relationship in order to function.  I’m managing just fine, thank you very much.  I just have to remember that my social needs require a bit of attention now and then.  If I don’t cater to that need I might just snap all of a sudden without warning.  That would not be a good thing.

This Christmas Eve I’m over at my parents’ place.  Come to think of it, really, where else would I be spending it, right?  Like I mentioned in a previous Twitter update:

It’s enough to be with my family. It’s not about stuff: if want something, I can buy it. Can’t buy togetherness.

It’s nice being back here.  I’m here in my old room, lying on the old bed, thinking about how it’s both strange and comforting to be back in this place.  The deep red curtains and the deep red bed spread trigger memories.  For sure, the familiarity of it all kind of puts me at ease.  And yet, I feel like I’ve grown out of it.  I know it shouldn’t be this way, but deep down I sort of feel like I’m a stranger: this isn’t entirely my sanctuary anymore.

Well, whatever the reason, I know that I will always have a place here if I need it.  I don’t anticipate needing it, but this room is a sort of a safety net. All of that puts me at ease.

Sometime earlier in the decade, while I was studying in Waterloo I had told my parents that they needed to get a computer for themselves.  I mean, I figured that it would have given them an opportunity to burn CDs or do online banking without me having to get involved.  I was fully prepared to actually help them out by assembling a system.  I had some experience doing so from having put together my own computer.  As long as you get the right parts that go together, the actual act of assembling the system is then a matter of plugging things into the right spots.  Easy enough, right?  Well, one day I got a call from my father telling me that they’d gone ahead and purchased a computer on their own.

For a brief moment I was kind of happy for them to have had the courage to go ahead and make the purchase.  Then I remembered that they had no idea what they were purchasing.  So, with dread I started asking them details.  He honestly had no idea, other than the fact that they’d asked the sales guy whether it was the best that they could get.  At that point I just knew that no good came of that.  They’re not gamers…why the hell do they need the fastest computer?  They don’t.  For a few days after the call I couldn’t concentrate at school.  All I could think about was their new computer.  When I got home I immediately started checking things out.  Well…it didn’t seem so bad at first.  Although, it was clearly something that was slapped together.  Then I heard how much they paid for the whole thing.  I was dumbfounded.  They paid maybe 2.5 times what it would have cost if I had done it.  Looking back now, it makes me want to gag.  I suggested that they return it, but my father was insistent that we keep it.  His reasons varied from “well it’s already there” and “we were told it’s the best!”  Riiiight.

Well, I suppose I could have let it all go if it worked perfectly.  Thing is, the damn thing always had issues.  Sometimes when mom would turn it on it would just get stuck on the BIOS screen.  No amount of rebooting used to let it get past.  Often I’d have to reach behind, unplug the whole thing for a minute, return the plug and only then would it go forward.  Other times, network connectivity just wouldn’t come up leading to frantic calls of “Jay!  The Internet isn’t working again!“  Mom would call me sometimes telling me that the thing is so slow.  She’d try starting a browser but it would take minutes before it would come up.  After some digging I found that the box only had 512MB of RAM.  What in blazes?!  Seriously.  No wonder it took so long.  It’s not that mom’s completely impatient; the system just really sucks.

Anyway, the other day I decided that I didn’t want to make them put up with such a system anymore, so I bought 2GB of RAM for their computer.  I went over today to swap the DIMMs out.  I made the switch and reconnected everything.  When mom switched it on…nothing came up on the monitor.  In fact, the motherboard started beeping like mad.  After a good half hour of swapping the memory again and diagnosing anything obvious that I could think of, nothing was bringing it back to life.  I just laughed and declared the computer dead: I think the motherboard is fried.  I looked at my mom and we both laughed.  Despite losing the box, I think we were both happy to see that piece of shit box kick the bucket.  Actually, I’m sure there’s a fix for it, but I don’t think it’s worth it.  Instead I offered to give them the desktop box that’s just sitting in my room unused.  Heck, why not?  My box had a slower processor than theirs, but at least the damn thing worked.

So, that’s what I’ve been up to.  I need to spend an hour or two “cleaning up” the system before I hand it over.  I also need to set it up just enough to get my mom ready to do all the stuff she used to do with the other system.  I’m willing to part ways with the box.  Eventually, I’m pretty sure I’ll get it back; they might move on to something like a Mac.  In any case, I’ll have a little piece of mind, for sure.

I’m currently reclining on my couch, reflecting on the fact that my shirt smells like pot roast.  No, I didn’t cook pot roast in my condo, although, I’m more than capable of making an excellent roast.  Perhaps sometime soon I want to experiment with making pulled pork.  Anyway, no, I smell like pot roast because that’s what my mom had made for dinner.  My aunts from New York have been visiting for the week, and this is their last day here.  As such, my mother decided to do the roast.  She called me earlier today to get me to come over for dinner.  Well hey, why not?  It’s not that I was looking for a free meal, but I just wanted to spend time with my extended family while they’re here, you know?

It’s not the first time I was called over for dinner.  On Sunday I went over there for dinuguan which was really great.  It’s been a long while since I’ve had that.  I was sent back with some stew leftover stew which I’ve been downing every now and then.  I was also called over on Wednesday because they were barbecuing a lot of food.  As tempting as it was, I passed on that meal because I couldn’t justify the trip over.

So therein lies an issue, no?  How often is too much?  I love my family dearly, but I don’t want to be heading over to my parents’ place so frequently.  As much as they’re not that far away, it still takes time and effort just to head over.  After a long day of work it’s not unreasonable for me to want to just relax in my place, right?  Also, I don’t want to risk becoming reliant on free meals.  Yeah, I seem to be responsible when it comes to cooking, but if I keep getting free meals and leftovers where’s the incentive to put the effort in?

OK, so I don’t want to seem like I’m complaining.  I’m not at all!  I’m just saying that I shouldn’t lose sight of my independence.  Makes sense, yes?