It's long but all three parts relate so I'll keep them as one post.
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*phone rings*
Mother: Jonathan?
Me: Yes?
Mother: It's 3 in the morning.
Me: Yes.
Mother: Why aren't you home yet? It's way too late for you to be out.
Me: Why?
Mother: Because it's 3 o'clock in the morning.
Nothing gets by her, let me tell you. The next morning:
Father: It's completely unacceptable that you would stay out that late. [I am still, at this point, wondering why]
Mother: You're not a teenager anymore [as if I was allowed to stay out as a teenager under their arbitrary rules]; you have to wake up the next morning.
Me: …today's a Sunday [and I already had attended Sunday Vigil yesterday].
Mother: And? [for the record, I woke up at 2 today, vacuumed the kitchen and family room and tidied up my room in the span of 2 to 3 hours; I'm now on my computer. If only I had waken up earlier to get it all done!]
Father: Your clothes are on the ground; they should have been put away when you got back home [I was under the impression that a world crisis had occurred, based on their demeanor, because of how terribly late I got home last night; in my mind, getting to bed as soon as possibly was the life-saving choice to make. However, as per usual, if things aren't done in the exact order my father expects, it's apparently a lack of ambition. Never-mind that there's absolutely no difference between putting them away when I wake up or when I get home other than when I end up putting them away].
Mother: Also, you used all of my gas [I used about an eighth of a tank]. You didn't put any gas into my car afterwards, did you?
Me: No, because I don't have any money. I told you where I was going; you've been there a multitude of times; you know how much gas that takes. If that bothered you, you should have told me no and I wouldn't have gone.
The one moment of sense in this bizarre melodrama is when my mother notes that the nice thing to do would have been calling to say that I wasn't going to be home later that night. Fair; I'd be willing to oblige, though still not necessary. To use her example of why this was oh so pertinent (were I to get into some sort of accident), the police would have called their house. If you're not getting a call, I'm fine. Now stop trying to mask the fact that you can't control every aspect of my life (I can't stop myself from laughing every time my mother tells me I'm not allowed to drink, as if the first thing I've ever run to to make a decision has ever been based around whether she'd "allow" me or not).
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Father: Do you want another grilled cheese?
Me: Sure, if you're making them.
Father: What? No, it's a yes or no question: yes or no? I'm making more only if you want more.
Me: *irritable* Yes, if you're making more.
I have a habit of asking what seems like really naïve questions; even if something seems really obvious, I'll often ask again or specifically repeat, audibly, back to the instructor the steps of the (sort of obvious) task, just to be sure I have it right. In correspondence with instances like these (though not only entailed to), I often say, "I assume nothing." The larger meaning is owning up to the danger of assumption (and, in turn, the inherent ignorance we often don't expect to find in ourselves, even on accident). It's also a gracious way not to offend people, in my mind; I refuse to even be suspicious of them.
The root of this habit (I have little doubt) stems from my father. Never one to be good at communicating, he often would assume that you'd know certain things; combined with his low patience, you were never really quite certain what to do right to avoid being yelled at.
So I got into the habit of making certain of everything: I assumed nothing and asked any question I could think of to be certain I understood what he wanted. While his point seems obvious, I'm certain there've been times in the past where he's said, to some request or question from me or my siblings regarding any food, "Well, I'm done cooking, so that's not going to happen."
Under that understanding, my statement seems perfectly reasonable. Removed from that understanding, my statement is still not unreasonable; redundant, perhaps, but not difficult to figure out (humor my idiosyncrasies).
However, this – apparently – is too much for my father to figure out. My mother, like myself, often includes extra information; I'd argue that both my parents and I all prefer explaining things in the form of stories (don't give us the general idea, give us examples; we'll figure it out from there) but my mother and I use this to include other information. Example? My father is wondering how much it will cost to get my sister's dog's hair cut. My mother tells him that the old hair cutter had cost 40 dollars and one of our neighbors, who had recommended the new hair cutter, said it should cost the same amount.
My father pauses before going, "Oh, so $40; why didn't you just say that?"
My first reaction is that you get the answer either way. That aside, you now know a possible average amount for such a job. You know who gave you the new hair cutter should you want to make small talk with the neighbors (seeing as my dad seems incapable of ever shutting up, I would think he'd value that information).
I guess, likewise, my response was too confusing for his brain to parse.
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The doorbell is ringing; my sister's crazy dog, like always, thinks the house is under attack and is barking his head off. My father tells him to move away from the door (I forget if he made hand motions, seeing as the dog wouldn't understand the command "Move away from the door"; I don't think he tried very hard, if he did). The dog, not understanding and being far more involved in the more interesting events occurring just outside the door, keeps barking at the door. My father, with one more bark of "Move!", pushes the dog across the tile floor out of the way; he slides smack into the wall about a yard away. I pick him up and carry him to another room to avoid him running to the door yet again (he's a persistent one). As I head back to the front door, I hear my father mutter, "I hate that dog; he never listens."
My father, for a while (I think he's become less vocal about it but no less believing), perceives me to be very selfish and self-concerned in some areas. A lot of this, I would argue, is my firm belief that the best means of dealing with people is allowing individuals to make choices regarding themselves with no restraint so long as their choices do not harm anyone else.
Unable to perceive this, (like the individual who finds those who call for tolerance to be hypocritical because those people oppose zir attempts to ban gay marriage for everyone) he was often puzzled and irritated by my habit, when I was younger, to call him and my mother out on making comments about other people. Or, for another example, getting angry at them telling me to eat healthier.
In his mind, I was pushing my world view on him; this is hardly the case. Rather, I had no qualms about him trying to be healthy or even making disparaging comments about his own weight or loss of hair: perfectly fine. It was his utter inability to restrict these thoughts to himself that bothered me.
So, I'm the selfish one. Okay. But, I would make the argument that, even beyond the obvious generosity of autonomy, this system goes even further in opposition to selfishness. You see (to use the theme I've touched a bit on here already), this system is once again in acknowledgement of our ignorance.
I was part of a panel back in college one time that was touching on religion. I remember it was part of the Encountering Religion series, though I can't remember the particular focus this time around. Someone in the crowd asked, "In dealing with religion, we're seeking Truth and answers. There can only be one answer so don't you owe it to help others see the Answer?" Ahh, the old Evangelist approach.
I wish I had responded but I didn't. In any case, the reason why going out and killing all the heretics and infidels is wrong (other than the fact that most religions include something about not killing and it's really just common sense) is that you can't be so certain that you are correct. I've said before, any person who wants to stand and tell me that there is, without a doubt, absolutely no chance there is no god(s) or absolutely no chance there is a god(s) has lost all intellectual merit in my eyes.
To move out of that supernatural lens, a simple reading of this xanga will make evident that my thoughts and beliefs have most certainly changed over the years. Myself in middle school would have been horrified that I'd become so accepting of gay rights (let alone help further the cause in any range of organizations).
So we allow the individual as much autonomy as possible because, at the end of the day, the person who will know what's best for you the most amount of times is you. Sure, there will be times where someone knows what's best for you or what's right and you don't know. But in my system, you have the option of asking for and refusing help. In my father's, you don't have a choice. Further, everyone is responsible for themselves under this rule. Under the other, we must seek a system of justice, etc. when someone pressures you because they figured they knew better and then screw things up. If you screw things up, it's just you who pays for it.
So does that make my father's system selfish?
In terms of results, yes but that's simplifying it. It's not that he wants control, per se. It's that, in his mind, he's figured things out and (rather than verifying such findings) must put them into action.
A good example of this is actually something that happened with my brother. We were stopping by the house before heading to, I think, a swim meet for my sister. I went in and grabbed myself some chips. As I headed back, my brother asks (expectantly), "Did you get me any?"
The answer is no.
And here is why: in an individualous system, I don't have to get you chips. Would it be nice if I did? Certainly. Had I thought of it or my brother had asked before I went in, I would have happily done so. But, as I said, autonomy in self until the point of harming someone else. My brother won't die from not getting chips; he has no right to expecting anything of the sort from me. Indeed, no one owes you anything (so long as not giving it to you would not harm or restrict you); this, in turn, makes charitable acts all the more charitable. Under my father's system, you are owed those kind works.
But that sounds harsh, doesn't it? It's a little too abstract. Here's why he can't expect anything from me. Like I said, the thought hadn't crossed my mind. Further, I could have been in a hurry. Or maybe I, accidentally, remembered him not liking the chips.
For him (and my father), remembering to get someone something is a nice gesture. Thus, everyone must be expected to do it. Much like the illustration I gave 7 paragraphs ago, his system demands I must get him chips. Mine offers the choice. It also has this nice, built-in, fail-safe that allows for there to be a vast variety of reasons (that my brother may be unaware of) as to why I may not have gotten him the chips. In this instance, I simply forgot.
Further, I find more consistency in mine. I have a habit of waving to every person in our neighborhood; I like to be friendly and I like people so it makes sense to me. One time, after waving, my brother asks why. I give the same explanation. He, somewhat grouchily, responds (paraphrased), "I'm not going to wave just because someone expects that of me." Now, this is confusing to me; no one expects you to wave. He makes it seem like some irritating obligation. In his understanding of what you should and should not do, there's no reason for him to wave; in mine, that's the nice thing to do (indeed, I think my father would chastise him and say he ought to wave, were he a few years younger, because my father appreciates friendliness as a virtue). My system offers him the choice not to. There could be a vast variety of reasons why he might not (I certainly don't know it). But he doesn't owe anyone a wave.
This is the core reason my father expects obedience. In his mind, he's already figured it all out (I imagine the mountain of times I've shown him wrong or convinced him otherwise are just minor exceptions). So listen and do it his way already.
The dog wasn't hurt; indeed, we, as humans, did a damn good job of breeding those things because it really is just astonishing how forgiving and friendly their natures are. No, but it looked like it hurt. I dunno; if I had done something like that, I'd've immediately picked him up to let him know if was a mistake (forget the door for that moment). It was the way that it didn't even matter to my father that he'd basically pushed the dog into a wall (because God forbid something not obey his command) with thoroughly no concern for his well-being afterwards.
**note: I should take the moment to note that I'm not perfect. I make mistakes and I can't remember if I always own up to them. I know, when I start feeling more comfortable with my surroundings, I'll say things in my usual disparaging humor and forget to make certain people understand I'm not even remotely serious. I'd like to think that I'm open enough about my concern for others and my willingness to admit when I'm wrong or make mistakes (which, just as there may be evidence for the opposite, there certainly is evidence for). At least I hope.
about an hour ago
Bring. It. On. :]
Jonathan Robert Schmeling: A flute player and a fiddle player were standing on a sinking ship. "Help!" cried the fiddle player, "I can't swim!"//"Don't worry," said the flute player, "just fake it."
55 minutes ago · · Like / Unlike
Everyone is relieved when the case is closed. :]
Two floutists playing in unison.
They don't know where to enter or what key to use.
Six -- One to get the chair to stand on, one to stand on the chair and actually screw it in, one to pull the chair out from under her, and three more to complain about how much better they could have done it.
She sits on her throne and the world rotates around her. ;]
What is the difference between a clarinet and an onion?
Nobody cries when you chop a clarinet into pieces.
[WE ARE NOT SERIOUSLY SPENDING OUR TUESDAY AFTERNOON DOING THIS. xDD]
What is perfect pitch on a flute?
When it misses the rim of the toilet as you throw it in.
How do you stop a flute from being stolen?
You put it in a clarinet case.
What's do you call a Flute at attention?
Gay. God knows, it certainly isn't *straight*.
How do you know a clarinetist is playing loud?
You can ALMOST hear them.
Where do flutists do all their practicing?
When the director works with the trumpets (not that they don't spend 90 percent of that time talking).
Is there any difference between the sound of a clarinet and the cat in heat?
Yes, if the cat's in good health.
Me either.
More concrete.
Just one, but she'll have to twist it back and forth for an hour to make sure she gets it just right.
One, but he'll spend an hour looking through the box for JUST the right lightbulb.
The conductor moves them back a chair...
What do you call a good flute section?
Impossible
Why don't most wind symphony pieces have tempo changes in them?
There are already plenty of ritard.s in the flutes.
Someone who knows how to play the clarinet, but doesn't.
Now... I'd love to keep doing this, but I have to do my homework and eat dinner... before stadium rehearsal tonight. DDDx
Schmelly, why are we such band geeks?
What's the difference between a flutist and a seamstress?
A seamstress tucks the frills.
(switch the "t" and "f" if you don't get it...)
Honestly, there is no family quite like a band is.
Waitwait. One more.
If lost in the woods, who do you ask for directions, an in-tune sax player, an out-of-tune sax player, or Santa Claus?
The out-of-tune sax player. The other two indicate that you're hallucinating.
OKAY. OFF TO DO MY HOMEWORK NOWWW. <333
and what other family could be as ... "special" as a band family?
But I wouldn't trade it for anything!