Besides sexual or physical abuse, I think the worst thing a parent can do is be controlling. It always drives the child away and makes for a rocky relationship. It makes the kid's life hell for years, and it makes the parent's life hell when the kid is old enough to cause trouble.
And because a parent can't really control their child in the first place, short of being so insane as to physically lock them up and deprive them of everything but basic food and water until they become submissive, the child is never going to learn to accept authority, which is sometimes an unfortunate neccessity.
What is your favorite time of day?
Midnight to 3 AM. It's dark outside, it's quiet, I can have the room as bright or as dark as I want it, I have privacy, and I've usually got a fair amount of coffee in my system. i wrote one of my college essays about a time like this. I'll reprint it here:
It was 2 A.M., and I am five minutes away from discovering the meaning of life. I don't know it at the time of course. Instead I was just sitting in my dorm room pouring myself a cup of coffee. A three second stream of refined, reprocessed, bleached glucose from the glass sugar container into the black abyss of my coffee cup went by in an eye-blink. Two pre-packaged French Vanilla liquid creamers and five spins of a spoon later, I held in my hand a steaming hot plastic black cup filled with the nectar of the gods. No wonder God is always able to see everything you're doing, his by-now bloodshot eyes are kept open constantly like spotlights on full power after he's had a cup or two of heavenly java.
Sara Brightman's Deliver Me played softly from my computer, setting an almost-hopeful but not-quite-cheery mood. The four minute, nine second song gave me enough time to light 16 candles, start 2 sticks of incense, sit down in my chair after exactly three minutes of the song had passed, and turn to page 267 of the most recent book I was reading. Vision of the Future had been in my hands on and off for almost a month now, and I was bound and determined to finish the 694 page novel that normally would take me perhaps 2 to 3 days to read, not 31.
The spring musical was finally over, and I once again had free time. I hated it. So I turned to my familiar comfort of reading. During the musical it had been nothing more than a brief reassurance, a temporary "fix". I was as addicted to reading as I was to Tic-Tacs, but I never had the time to get farther than five pages before a line, a friend, or a request for help dragged me away from my precious paper package. But now that was all over, and nothing could disturb me from the wonders of the printed word. Or so I thought.
BAM! The sharp clap of thunder cut through the night followed swiftly by the hiss and clatter of raindrops outside. Fat droplet after droplet slammed into window, leaf, branch, and bough. The cacophony outside could best be described as nature's symphony. Inside, I sat comfortable in my chair with a fleece blanket covering me. The perfect tasting coffee slid smoothly down my throat as the emporium of scents teased and tantalized my nostrils. Flickering candlelight was all that lit my contented smile as only the sound of the rain orchestra mixed with my relaxed sigh. Tonight would be wonderful.
Yep. That was the night I discovered the meaning of life. As for what it is, well, I won't spoil the fun for you. After all, everyone deserves a night like that.
No comments:
Post a Comment