Thursday, November 11, 2010

Swamp Thing: Live Together, Die Alone

Just got back from my hometown last night, when I almost immediately passed out.

I got some shit to handle. My parents are getting older. Everyone's getting older, just that my parents' age are starting to show.

My father, the great intellect, is desperately hanging on to his independence. His 'position' as head of the family. As the guy who always knew what to do, when more and more decisions are being made by other people.

I understand his concerns, and I am not going to be anyone's enabler. I will not allow him or anyone I care about get duped by their own delusions and fixation with their egos. The rest of the world can fuck off and die.

Going back, was also very nostalgic. I remember my own shit, growing up. I come from a very tough community. People survive on so little. They don't have any dreams, most of them. They all scrape by with such limitations.

When I was a kid, I didn't know what to make of them. And they didn't know what to make of me. I never really belonged there. In fact, I don't belong anywhere. Over the years, I have truly learned to be with myself, because everyone else can't be counted on. Everyone has their own shit.

I remember, one school day, some kids came and threatened me with their pet scorpions. Without the stingers removed. They seemed to really enjoy taunting me with those poisonous things. I was scared, because I believed that only I knew how dangerous it was. I wasn't afraid of the scorpions. Handled a few myself. I was scared of their ignorance and what I judged to be their stupidity.

After a five minute standoff, we were drawing a crowd.

So I crushed their pets with a big log. Made sick crunching sounds. One of the tough guys cried. I killed their pets. And dirtied my shirt with the huge log.

One of those kids died recently. He left behind a family of seven, most of them kids. They got no money and no place to stay. They shacked up in a hut beside the mosque, but some people were unhappy. The guy was an alleged junkie.

So now, the village council is taking care of 40% of their rent, in a temporary refuge.

I was approached with plans to build a RM15,000 house for the family. Once I get all the information and the proper plans, it would be time to work at getting the funds.

The only difference between that guy who died and me, who is still alive, was simply luck.

Same environment. Same people. Same culture. Presented with a choice, I decided to be on my own while he decided to blend in. I never did conform. To anything. Or anyone. That led to other choices for me.

Just a few wrong turns, and that would have been me. If I had compromised on some shit, if I went left and not right.

I believe that everything that happens to us is by choice. There is no magic. No destiny. That's all bullshit. You have no one else to blame but yourself. And blaming yourself is stupid.

It is easy to fall into the ego's trap and become addicted to pain. To being a victim. I understand that. Been there myself. It is very comforting.

Unfortunately, that is not the path I chose for myself. And I will not enable any of you to do the same. Some of you, anyway.