POST: 'Aubergine' - your parents will be different from you

What'd I experience?

Today was the day I moved into an apartment for the very first time. It was going to be my apartment. My own room there. My own space. I had spent the last three months at home, my days mostly consisting of watching tv and trying to socialize with my family.

It's the end of summer, school starting back up soon, and I was ready. 

Really,  REALLY , Ready. 

Really, REALLY, Ready. 

My whole family came to help me get settled in. My brother and I fixed up my chair and my mom did my sheets. Even my grandma came. They left me in my new room at 5:27 PM. 

Well well. I had a show to get to by 7:30, and that cubicle organizer thing was not going to fix itself. I spent the next hour and thirty minutes regretting my decision to get said cubicle organizing thing. Before I knew it, it was time.

I was in such a rushed state getting to the theatre. I left my room with papers and scraps all over the floor. I had to take some boxes down to recycle in the basement. I went out. I forgot my umbrella. I ran back in for the umbrella. I went out again. The umbrella broke. I ran into my friend who gave me her umbrella (Thank You Rachel). I went to the subway. Got out of the subway. Walked five minutes in the wrong direction. 

I was frustrated. It was hot and humid. The rain was basically just adding to the sweat on my forehead. I was wearing flip flops and running. I swear people stared at me from a block away because of the FLAP FLAP FLAP. 

But I got there, and just in time. The show was about to begin. I could hear my stomach growling. Darn, I hadn't eaten since this morning. Hopefully the show would distract me. 

The theatre was cool, but I was still a wet mess from all the running and rain. As I settled in, I heard two girls come up in the row behind me. 

"Hey! Let's just take these seats! No one is in them. And if someone wants to move us they can go f*** themselves" 

They seemed slightly tipsy. And laughed semi-obnoxiously. 

It felt like the show would just never start. But it did, as it always does.

It was such an interesting set, it was like there was a light brown wooden barrel on stage. The woman giving her monologue was dressed in a soft brown, and the stage behind her was lit in a sapphire blue. I immediately began to think about my apartment and the possibilities of themes for the room.

No no Maham, you must pay attention. 
It wasn't hard, actually--to pay attention. 

The play turned out to be centered around food. My stomach did not appreciate that. It was about a man who's father was in hospice (AKA very close to death) and how he dealt with it. 

This guy was a chef, and his father never appreciated food. His mother passed away when he was younger. 

Now I must take a moment to just add the most shocking (and it is sad that it's shocking) fact about the play. The cast was almost completely Asian. Korean to be specific. It just kind of made me really happy to see that? Because GO DIVERSITY. 

But anyway, back to the story. 

So this guy and his dad never really got along. It's not like they fought over everything or hated each other, it's just that there were fundamental differences in who they were. 

BOY COULD I RELATE TO THIS. My parents just like different things. No matter how I try to integrate them into my life and show them how I have a good time, they just don't appreciate it. My mother always tells me I don't know her taste. She gets mad at me for making her try things like bubble tea and Max Brenner because she thinks I should know that she would never like that kind of stuff. 

This guy's dad never really appreciated food (especially expensive food) and, in a way of rebelling, the son (Ray) became a chef. There was this one story he told about how he had just come back from France. He wanted to show his dad what he learned. Show him it was all worth it. He spent weeks trying to plan the best 18-course meal he could possibly think of. All his dad said to every dish he presented was "interesting".  That night Ray came downstairs and found his dad eating ramen in the kitchen because he was hungry. 

Ray, man, I feel you. I have spent hours trying to figure out where to take my mom and how to impress her, all for her to just go and make roti when we get home. 

But you know how the play ended? Or rather--what the "moral of the story was". Your parents will be different from you. Especially if their immigrants. They have had completely different lives and different values. They have different "tastes". And maybe there are things you can't tell your parents because of these barriers, but that does not mean they will ever not love you. They are harsh, they are rude, because they love you. They will always do what they think is best for you, because they love you. 

Maybe this means you need to put more effort in, meet them where they are comfortable. Although you live in two completely different worlds, you are a bridge. Because they're your parents, and you will lose them one day. 

That night I didn't even go back to my apartment. I went to my friends place to help them move some stuff around, and we talked until 2 am. I ended up sleeping over. It really felt like school was starting back up. I can do these things without being scolded. I know I will have a great time moving forward, but the play showed me that I can't just forget family and values I come from.

Good job, Aubergine.  

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