There’s something strangely nursery in the relationship between mom and dad and me and bro which works manifolds, but yesterday, something judged hilarious by me happened. See if it appeals to you.

1) Bro, as usual is sick, judged by a hypocondriac dad who don’t practise it on himself but on others. So bro has to go to the clinic, within walking distance.

2) Mom has to go to the bank, which closes at 12 that day and dad vehemently refuses to take bro along, but he mysteriously went along to take a queue number. (what?!) so mom takes bro along.

3) Bro insists on taking his tricycle out for a ride and sis can’t stop him (duh) and mom is a jellyfish.

4) So mom and bro ended up late at the clinic which dad insisted on calling them, “late!” but by mom’s recount, the doc stopped for a call.

5) Dad threw a fit and striked the tricycle, as the object of blame and for some reasons, it can only go straight but not turn (right, it was spoilt). So mom has to half-carry, half-push it back (damn it!).

6) As a result, she was late at the bank.

There’s this stubborn thread running down my family and I’m not yet sure I’m stubborn or not. On the surface… Well, let’s get back to the topic.

Dad, stubborn as usual, will never say sorry, so he did another thing– he scolded mom for being late at the clinic and its the last straw. Mom who was usually tolerant just shouted at him all the misdeeds in the past (that’s why you shouldn’t offend women, they remember things from a decade ago).

And it was not hilarious. I only found it hilarious this morning cos the children are once again sitting by the table munching whatever you imagine. And sometimes, I strongly feel like counselling them, when I think things are out of control like yesterday, but they always fix with a night’s sleep, like my feelings. Today, I just feel hilarious.

This is the conversation I had with myself last night. Seriously, I think I’ll not have all these thoughts and writings if I had not changed a bedroom. Okay, last night.

” Marriage is a life-time decision? I think not. In fact the decision of when to cross the road is much more of a risk than death by marriage. One can be ended up a signature, the other leaves you with no chance of saying goodbye.”

This morning

And this morning, I thought that marriage was more like the people in the cars, deciding where to go as a group and the people in the car are stuck together forever, even if they climb onto the car top, clam themselves shut in the bonnet or change seats in the car for a change. In the end, they’ll still be a part of the car.

Which reminds me of this great play I’ve read, Huis Clos (No exit in French) by Jean-Paul Sartre. In the play, he defined hell as a place where a group of 3 had to stay with each other in this room with no windows and a locked door and no device to end themselves. They realised that its interaction, the quarrels, the differences that’ll kill them in hell in the end, so they resolved not to speak to each other, suggested by a man. But it did not work. This lady called for the door to open and it did, but more hot air was let in, suffocating them, so they closed it.

And they realised that they are linked, the trio, interdependent on each other, so they must speak to help each other. And the play ended showing their desperation. Hell is just a room where you are stuck with people and you suffer the worst punishment of all.

So I kinda linked marriage to this, like it or not, everyone’s gonna be together, stuck together, so why not make it a nice journey. I just wished I could talk to them nursery kids and call for something stable.

Then I feel guilty being not guilty, being the one who always pull that poker face. Seriously now I don’t feel anything, everything’s kinda superficial I think so I just treat them superficially. I think I’m the bonding factor in loads of things. In debates society where its splitted into 2, I stayed in the middle and am the only one who can talk to each in a voice that does not resemble scorning, taunting and the like. At home, I’m actually the one who has the highest record of misdeeds but I’m the one who suggest a day out together.

Sometimes I feel more like a therapist than a normal person on planet Earth and by that standards, a therapist is a person too. And I really can talk to schizos, to autistic kids (my aunt’s son) or anyone judged abnormal by society without treating them differently. In fact, they’re easiest people to talk too cos they always initiate the talking and I feel grateful listening.

And after listening, I’ll feel as if I’d been schizo before, or had been through something difficult as well and for some reasons, I come up with something of my own. Like I decided some time ago I decided not to have children and last night I kinda find marriage a childish affair.

You go in expecting what you expected and that’s what kills. And all those stress about making the right choice, life-time decision, the repeat-after-mes– I do, I do. That’s what hype does to people. You think you’re doing something great, something huge and noble and want something out of it.

In reality, marriage is just the kind of situation in Huis Clos where you are stuck there, not really knowing how to seek for your personal place. The only difference is that you can choose the person but in the end, we still change. Whatever, I feel that everything meta-physical or even mildly philosophical I said in this blog is of no use.

What’s the point of saying something, discovering something which is already there, what can you change? But natural science is more of a sham, scientists kill themselves discovering something that’s already there and did more harm by finding it. Marie Curie got the Noble prize for A-bombs, and she sacrifaced herself for A-bombs. How stupid is it?

I wish things are just left alone, with acceptance.