Day Thirty-Eight

WHAT WILL I HAVE ACCOMPLISHED?
So I'm here for another two weeks. I'm not entirely sure what I want to do while I'm here. It's now apparent that my parents could care less what it is I'm doing, just as long as I tell them I'm taking the car. Despite my mother I guess suggesting I not become my little brothers' personal clown for the summer, I don't really see anything important I couldn't do much better in Providence.

THEIR WAY OF BEING IN THE WORLD
Jen and Kanu's wedding was a celebration of two people who really deserved to be happy with each other because individually, they're perhaps the world's most amazing people. The multiple toasts at the reception all centered around how both are off saving the world (perhaps literally), being compassionate, and having neuroses that are less obnoxious rather than cute (Kanu's OCD came up a lot). During the ceremony, the minister read letters she had Jen and Kanu read each other as private-made-public testaments of their love and Jen remarked that she loved Kanu's "way of being in the world." I thought that was a beautiful way to tell someone they've figured out how to live.

So what's my way of being in the world? From what I can tell, I should have figured that shit out some time before I got to college. As as far as I see it, I have not lived by the dictum given to me by Wally Lamb at Conn's graduation "years ago":

.... Oslec... : Make yours a life story which is character-driven, not
plot-driven, character being defined as the way you behave when there is no
one
else in the room to judge you. Don’t fear that silent room. Solitude
will guide
you if you remain strong of character

I like to think of myself as an introvert, which some lady at diversity training at Conn described as "getting your energy from being alone." But during such alone time, I think I relax much of what could be called my "character" -- I slouch, I think bad things about people (and their unborn or unconceived children), I engage in vain acts (like blog), I talk to myself (in my blog), I think about kicking dogs to hear them yelp and see them fly, I plan my revenge, I think of ways to underachieve. Then again, I do a lot of those things in public, so really, I'm a pretty terrible person.

So let's say I get married sometime soon. And let's say someone is compelled to give me a toast. I fear that it'll go something like this: "Oslec was a mess until he met x" or "considering Oslec's flaws (which they'll list and people will laugh, mostly nervously), it's a good thing he met x as soon as he did, lest he do (something dangerous)." In other words, I'm not part of the solution, I'm part of the problem.

How does one go about changing their way of being in the world? For all my anxiety over it, I'm afraid to think of what I'd have to change to "be good" in the world. I'm the rich man whom Jesus asked to give up all his belongings and follow him -- disappointed and used as an example for two thousand years. Thinking about it, my rejection of socialism in college was based partly on the fact that I couldn't feel solidarity with workers because I wasn't a worker.

So in conclusion, I've become middle class. Great.

THE NICKNAME PHENOMENON
It is my belief that you can't be Filipino without a nickname that has only a vague relationship to your real name. While some like "Boy" or "Bong" mean "junior," others are person-specific, derived from some weird-ass pronunciation of a portion of your first name, or in some cases (my case), your real name backwards. My little little brother had a fit today because he somewhat resents being called "Fafi," which is short for Raphael.

"You guys call me Fafi, and Mom calls me Fafi and now all my friends know it and it's embarrassing," he said.

I had to set the boy straight. "Dude, my nickname is my real name backwards. You tell me what's weirder."

I'm considering seeding the little one with subversive messages to see what my parents will do. At 9, I made one of the most important decisions of my life, and a difficult chore for any Asian child; I told my mother I didn't want to take piano lessons anymore. I keep asking him if he wants to play a sport, and his response is that he wants to do fencing again, but Mom won't let him because "she doesn't want me travelling to Atlanta to compete." Hopefully he'll find something he'll want to do on his own.