an eclectic rant of sorts
The little voice in my head has recently become more persistent, and pressuring.
For the longest time, the little voice in my head has taken the visual form of my Asian parents, particularly, my Dad. Should be no surprise: the way a hardcore Asian parent shows love is to never let their children give up. Unfortunately, the Eastern vs. Western culture clash warrants plenty of room for misunderstanding.
It wasn’t until college when I realize that all my life, I had been short-changed. Though my parents were powerless to influence my decisions while out in Pittsburgh, the little voice in my head was always there. At the verge of a decision: going out before finishing work (small thing, just sleep less later), caving into peer pressure for that stupid antic (whatever, get a few laughs), or dropping everything to pursue a true passion (uh, oh, heavy), the little voice would always second guess me, more so than anything or anyone else.
Between this realization and the little voice, I’m always in a rush to accelerate the already accelerated, yet am halted by my own stubbornness. Though I’m not outspoken about what I truly think all the time, I hate settling for less, and yet people around believe I am so. In reality, I’m just trying to get by, sometimes trying hard to get by (can’t let go of what is second nature for 18 years), biding my time until I get the perfect idea, or what I believe is so.
And yet, a part of me still blames it all on that Asian parent voice.
But the thing is, during my last phone call, even while confessing something morally damning, I am received outright love and support, from my Asian parents.
This is the truth.
And the other truth? My parents are actually not like that anymore. They’ve actually matured awhile ago.
Ultimately, I am now my own monster. It’s kind of like how designers are their own biggest critics, except worse. So, I am both my own greatest critic and monster.
tl;dr auggghaugh, I have an Asian parent conscience, and it’s my own damn fault.