I have a really confused brother. I do not know how to connect with him, simply because I don't like him. I am not a very pragmatic person so don't expect me to do extraordinary things when it comes to communicating with people whom I do not like, even if he is my own flesh and blood.
Why don't I like him? Or what do I not like about him?
I have been trying to resolve this nagging question for a long time. It is like a wound on the roof of my mouth that I just could not stop tonguing. A wound that would not heal, a heartache that just would not be resolved.
The truth is, I really want an honest, open, loving relationship with him. The things that he does pisses me off sometimes. However, as I reflect upon his actions I would always put myself in his shoes and find myself making the same decisions as he did. Only thing is that he is ball-sier than I am when I was his age. Fuck, I sound like an old fart.
I suspect the primary reason that I do not like him is that I see myself too much in him. I know he looks up on me alot. I can only hope that he has placed his trust in the right place. I do not want my brother to model himself after his dumbfucked older brother who has not a clue on what to do with his life.
I just do not want him to turn out like me. Not that I feel that I am that bad person, nor am I the type of guy whom chics would just die to bring home to meet their parents. I am just average. I do not want my brother to be average. I do not want him to emulate an average joe. I get pissed when he does the things that I would do. I want him to have a unique personality that is his own. Not one that he copied from his good-for-nothing brother.
He is really unfocused with his life, something that I suffer from now. And he looks upon me for all the answers in life. My whole family does that. Like I have taken over the pillar that hold the house together, from my dad. I guess it is part of growing up. I do not like that.
In the words of the great Bruce Springsteen- Cats like us, are born to roam. No responsibility, No commitment, No shit from anyone. I feel uneasy when I am laiden with expectations from other people. I have lived half my life in the shadows of meeting the expectations of others and the other half breaking free from whatsoever rule, control system that I deem to be restricting my sense of individualism.
I am the Lord of my own.
And I do not even have the capability to control my spiteful feelings when I talk to my brother. He just rubs me off the wrong way.
He is digging deep into my bookshelves. I got really pissed when the first book that he grabbed was on Recreational drugs although that was Exactly what I would do. Then he reached for my zine collections on Anarchism and other sub-culture publications. I felt really uneasy because I have like a fuckin' tonne of books in my room and all he could ever put his hands on was on all those anti-establishment hippie shit. I know I should not blame him 'cos it's only natural and boy- do those books have cool graphic and messages or what?
But I still felt pissy.
So now when he has finally reached out for the more philosophical books, books that I deemed to be better reads and of productive qualities. I am still pissed. He is reading Mike Foucault's Hermeneutics of the Subject now and wants me get him a dictionary because he remarked sarcastically - "Foucault's ain't exactly Primary school readings, you know. I need a dictionary"
That shit totally blew my top. A fuckin' Webster-Mirriam trade paperback would cost RM40 bucks tops. That is like him saving up on 4 packets of fuckin' cancer sticks and he wanted me to get him a dictionary, out of my own pocket so that he can understand the great lectures that Foucault gave in France over cigarettes. He can fuckin' smoke till he dies, I still won't buy him a dictionary that he can bloody well afford if he does not spend all his pocket money on cigs- because would be very irrational.
One of the main things that gets to me most is the things that he do with his life can be damn irrational and stupid to me. And the thing about me is that, if you give me the impression that you are stupid, I would just stop approaching you with respect. I am sorry, but I was raised to not tolerate stupidity. I did alot of stupid things- I paid all my dues; and I am a really stupid individual, so if I deem you to be stupid- then you have gotta be really fuckin' retarded, and no one gives a shit about Terry Schiavo.
And he wanted me to hang out with him over beers and Explain to him the philosophy of Thomas Hobbes and Michael Foucault. Sweet ba'Jesus Christ, Mary mother of Jews! Has he even read Any of them? I cannot even convince myself the validity of Absolutism as according to what I understood from reading a coupla times off fuckin' Hobbes' and now he wants me to explain it. Save Foucault. I do not even deserve the privilege to insult him by retelling his lectures as according to what I think I understood. My nose bleed half way thru his book and I passed out unconscious rendering me not being able to finish reading.
And knowing that the lil' fucker is reading my books when he should really be studying for his Pre-U exam text books just leaves me annoyed.
I am not a good brother.
*********************************************
Not strangely, I feel that I could really use a good hug from You. I urm, yeah miss you. Although you never call and I am too egoistic to pick up the phone or to just plain simply IM you. I would love to be in your company tonight over beers at Oasis. But you would have to do all the talkings. I just want to sip my beer and look at how beautiful you are thru the slight radiance that a flickering candle could afford us. We should really hang out more but talk less. I talk way too much in front of you, perhaps out of nervousness, perhaps out of pretension that I am not a boring guy afterall. Some times I just want to pick up the damn phone and call you but did not do so because yeah, I think things are indeed moving too fast between us. We lose the alluring sense of mystery that keeps us coming back to each other in times as these. So I'd just unflip my cell and put it back into my backpack. I really want you to know that there are moments in my day when my daily thoughts are interposed with random thoughts of you. I have no idea why I like you, maybe we will always go for things that we cannot have but the point to the matter is that my heart takes fancy on you. Heartstrings are best pulled blindly.
If only I could take you by your hands again and sing about my feelings for you at the Zanzi Bar in Jesselton Tonight.
Why don't I like him? Or what do I not like about him?
I have been trying to resolve this nagging question for a long time. It is like a wound on the roof of my mouth that I just could not stop tonguing. A wound that would not heal, a heartache that just would not be resolved.
The truth is, I really want an honest, open, loving relationship with him. The things that he does pisses me off sometimes. However, as I reflect upon his actions I would always put myself in his shoes and find myself making the same decisions as he did. Only thing is that he is ball-sier than I am when I was his age. Fuck, I sound like an old fart.
I suspect the primary reason that I do not like him is that I see myself too much in him. I know he looks up on me alot. I can only hope that he has placed his trust in the right place. I do not want my brother to model himself after his dumbfucked older brother who has not a clue on what to do with his life.
I just do not want him to turn out like me. Not that I feel that I am that bad person, nor am I the type of guy whom chics would just die to bring home to meet their parents. I am just average. I do not want my brother to be average. I do not want him to emulate an average joe. I get pissed when he does the things that I would do. I want him to have a unique personality that is his own. Not one that he copied from his good-for-nothing brother.
He is really unfocused with his life, something that I suffer from now. And he looks upon me for all the answers in life. My whole family does that. Like I have taken over the pillar that hold the house together, from my dad. I guess it is part of growing up. I do not like that.
In the words of the great Bruce Springsteen- Cats like us, are born to roam. No responsibility, No commitment, No shit from anyone. I feel uneasy when I am laiden with expectations from other people. I have lived half my life in the shadows of meeting the expectations of others and the other half breaking free from whatsoever rule, control system that I deem to be restricting my sense of individualism.
I am the Lord of my own.
And I do not even have the capability to control my spiteful feelings when I talk to my brother. He just rubs me off the wrong way.
He is digging deep into my bookshelves. I got really pissed when the first book that he grabbed was on Recreational drugs although that was Exactly what I would do. Then he reached for my zine collections on Anarchism and other sub-culture publications. I felt really uneasy because I have like a fuckin' tonne of books in my room and all he could ever put his hands on was on all those anti-establishment hippie shit. I know I should not blame him 'cos it's only natural and boy- do those books have cool graphic and messages or what?
But I still felt pissy.
So now when he has finally reached out for the more philosophical books, books that I deemed to be better reads and of productive qualities. I am still pissed. He is reading Mike Foucault's Hermeneutics of the Subject now and wants me get him a dictionary because he remarked sarcastically - "Foucault's ain't exactly Primary school readings, you know. I need a dictionary"
That shit totally blew my top. A fuckin' Webster-Mirriam trade paperback would cost RM40 bucks tops. That is like him saving up on 4 packets of fuckin' cancer sticks and he wanted me to get him a dictionary, out of my own pocket so that he can understand the great lectures that Foucault gave in France over cigarettes. He can fuckin' smoke till he dies, I still won't buy him a dictionary that he can bloody well afford if he does not spend all his pocket money on cigs- because would be very irrational.
One of the main things that gets to me most is the things that he do with his life can be damn irrational and stupid to me. And the thing about me is that, if you give me the impression that you are stupid, I would just stop approaching you with respect. I am sorry, but I was raised to not tolerate stupidity. I did alot of stupid things- I paid all my dues; and I am a really stupid individual, so if I deem you to be stupid- then you have gotta be really fuckin' retarded, and no one gives a shit about Terry Schiavo.
And he wanted me to hang out with him over beers and Explain to him the philosophy of Thomas Hobbes and Michael Foucault. Sweet ba'Jesus Christ, Mary mother of Jews! Has he even read Any of them? I cannot even convince myself the validity of Absolutism as according to what I understood from reading a coupla times off fuckin' Hobbes' and now he wants me to explain it. Save Foucault. I do not even deserve the privilege to insult him by retelling his lectures as according to what I think I understood. My nose bleed half way thru his book and I passed out unconscious rendering me not being able to finish reading.
And knowing that the lil' fucker is reading my books when he should really be studying for his Pre-U exam text books just leaves me annoyed.
I am not a good brother.
*********************************************
Not strangely, I feel that I could really use a good hug from You. I urm, yeah miss you. Although you never call and I am too egoistic to pick up the phone or to just plain simply IM you. I would love to be in your company tonight over beers at Oasis. But you would have to do all the talkings. I just want to sip my beer and look at how beautiful you are thru the slight radiance that a flickering candle could afford us. We should really hang out more but talk less. I talk way too much in front of you, perhaps out of nervousness, perhaps out of pretension that I am not a boring guy afterall. Some times I just want to pick up the damn phone and call you but did not do so because yeah, I think things are indeed moving too fast between us. We lose the alluring sense of mystery that keeps us coming back to each other in times as these. So I'd just unflip my cell and put it back into my backpack. I really want you to know that there are moments in my day when my daily thoughts are interposed with random thoughts of you. I have no idea why I like you, maybe we will always go for things that we cannot have but the point to the matter is that my heart takes fancy on you. Heartstrings are best pulled blindly.
If only I could take you by your hands again and sing about my feelings for you at the Zanzi Bar in Jesselton Tonight.
3 Comments:
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
I'm glad I can be of service to you *wink*
As always I enjoy your writing.
bloghopping! ;)
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