Parent Children Relationship

There are people out there who genuinely believe that parents should be parents and they’re not the child’s friends. I think that’s stupid. I hope it’s not true but I wouldn’t be surprised if it were true for most people because most people are genetically stupid. It’s definitely easier to ensure a child doesn’t get spoiled by playing the role of a “bad guy”, but there has to be a better way. A lot of miserable and depressed people have no friends. Most of them still have parents. Wouldn’t their lives be much better if they had 1 friend? Also, while you’re friends with someone, you’re with them a lot more and you’ll have more opportunities to parent them. If anything, it just seems like more parents aren’t willing to put in the time and effort to do it right.

Without friendship, how can two people truly love one another? Most people I see seem to be playing the role of a good child or a good parent. They’re acting. They’re pretending. There’s no genuine relationship there. I’m not saying any of these people are assholes or anything. They truly want to be good parents and good children. But they’re not. The best they can do is pretend to be the thing they want to be.

I’ve been living at my aunt’s house lately and this whole acting thing is becoming more apparent to me. It’s not like I never noticed it before, but I just decided to write about it now. Without writing out everyone’s life stories, my uncle’s had cancer for years now and is very sickly and one of his daughters tries to be a really good daughter. She tries to do things for him like helping him walk and stuff. Let’s look at the walking. She holds him while he walks, which is a very good girl thing to do. Unlike some white families, Chinese families tend to have very little physical contact. She obviously doesn’t want to be touching him. Not because he’s sick or germy or anything. Touching’s just naturally a little uncomfortable to us because it feels alien. She wants to help and she wants to show that she wants to help, but the awkward touching probably does more harm than good. That’s not true. It’s probably not doing any harm, but it’s not doing much good either is my point.

She tends to him very well. An excellence performance indeed. But at the end of the day, how much does she actually care? My uncle spends the other 23 ½ hours sitting by himself with no one to talk to. Because they’re not friends, they cannot carry out prolonged conversations. She’ll try to include him when she talks about her day or something, but it’s not a conversation. I’ve seen my uncle talk to other people. It’s not like he doesn’t have the energy to talk. It does exhaust him a little to make sounds, but it’s at least more enjoyable than slowly dying. But he doesn’t talk much with his family, because they’re not friends, because it’s not worth the energy.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe there’s genuine love there. If love means leaving the guy alone for most of his day and watching him die slowly, then I don’t want any part in that kind of love. I want more than that. If I ever have a child, I’ll make sure to do a better job. If I end up raising a fucked up criminal for a child, at least I’ll be friends with him/her.

Sad, Funny, and Truthful Thoughts

Lately, I’ve been sadder and truer to myself but unfortunately not any funnier. I’m wrestling with depression and it’s pinning me down on my bed all day. I’ve been lacking a reason to do anything, lacking a reason to live, so I’ve just been pretty much waiting to die… at the age of 22. It’s going to be a long ass wait.

Girls never have to wait to die. Even if they just lie in bed and not go out, horny guys will find them somehow.

Girls never have to wait to die. Even if they just lie in bed and not go out, horny guys will find them somehow.

I tried to give myself reasons to live and do things. That’s just a nice way of saying I’ve been hitting on every girl who crosses my path on the internet. It’s sad how it actually surprised me that all I was able to accomplish was creep girls away. Even blogging is feeling more and more pointless to me. I really love it when people enjoy reading the things I write. When you guys leave a comment, it brightens me up for about 2 minutes and then I go back to feeling miserable for the remaining 23 hours and 58 minutes of the day. If I earn one new follower for each entry I write, I would need to write 720 entries and then continue writing everyday in order to feel alive. But sadly, I don’t even earn 1 new follower per entry so I would need to write more than that already retardedly high number. If blogging would get me anywhere, I would probably do it more but if I wanted to get anywhere with blogging, simply writing more isn’t the way to go. I would need to do annoying twitter, tumblr, reddit, diggs, diggit, or whatever there’s available out there. I’m the most un-tech savvy techy guy ever. It’d be great if someone would do all that for me.

Boy that's a lot of numbers. We'll research what it means by using my ass to point at things on the blackboard.

Boy that’s a lot of numbers. We’ll research what it means by using my ass to point at things on the blackboard.

A little while ago, someone asked me what I wanted to be in the future and I jokingly said that I wanted to be a parasite, living off other people. That was just a dumb joke. Then I thought about it for real and I think I want to be a stay at home dad. And then I realized that that was actually just a sugar coated parasite. This isn’t just some dumb joke. Well… it is, but it’s also true. I think about whether I want kids or not and I think I do, but I know I don’t want shitty kids. Because I’m kind of a shitty person, there’s a damn good chance my kids will turn out shitty. The best chance I have at nonshitty kids is if I can actually have the time and energy to parent the child to the best of my abilities. At that point, even if the kid is still shitty, at least it’s my little piece of shit. Most parents are all busy working and making money. They spend too much time away from the child and the times that they are home, they’re too tired to spend any quality time with the child.

If she was a mom, she'd be too busy posing in front mirrors to spend time with her child. She is blinded to her own poor parenting by that stupid hat.

If she was a mom, she’d be too busy posing in front mirrors to spend time with her child. She is blinded to her own poor parenting by that stupid hat.

When I watch Two and a Half Men, it’s sad that Alan Harper is actually the character I empathize with the most because I’m the most similar to him. Alan Harper is not a character that any respectable human being should identify with. What’s even sadder is that I’m a prettier version of Alan Harper but I get laid a lot less.


Alan Harper got to hit that.

Alan Harper got to hit that.

And that.

And that.

Childhood (Comment Topic)

My stupid brain decided to not let me fall asleep so I’m going to write this comment topic that I put off for almost a week. I wonder if my anonymous follower is still following this blog. I don’t think this entry is going to be too long but we’ll see. This entry is also not going to be comedy-driven. However, I like to think that everything I write is funny and interesting and since no one has told me otherwise, I’m going to keep assuming that it’s true.

I’ve always been a pretty depressed person. On my extra depressed days, childhood is actually a topic I spend a lot of time thinking about. I analyze how screwed up my life is, how much of it is my fault, and then I think about how many of my flaws are rooted in me from my childhood. It turns out that I can blame my parents for everything. Although I’ve thought about this topic a lot, it’s one of those things that you think about a lot but the thoughts aren’t necessarily cohesive and doesn’t translate well into written form. I will be trying my best to cover the key points.

First I will write about my cheapness. I’m so cheap to the point that it should be diagnosed as an illness. Everytime I eat out, it pains me to know they profit off me. On a regular basis, my spending is asymptotic to zero. I’ve been this way all my life because it’s the way I was raised. Although it’s obviously problematic, I’m going to go ahead and elaborate on some of the ways my cheapness screws with me. Well, the obvious one would be spending money on dating and meeting girls. You need to understand a cheap mindset to know that basically my cheapness means zero dating. Simply leaving the house costs money for transportation so every outing starts off with ridiculously high expectations because I’m spending “so much money” that it better be worth it. “So much money” is relative to zero of course, so any amount of spending is a lot. This relates to childhood because both the transportation and food thing are things that my parents have nailed into my head again and again, even to this day. The biggest problem with this cheapness in combination with depression is that if I don’t really need to spend any money, why bother working to make money.

The other big issue is raising children when it is appropriate to speak. I was raised to make as little noise as possible. My parents took the easy (but bad) route. Basically, if I never say anything, I’ll never say anything wrong. However, this is obviously the wrong way to raise a child because I’ve never said anything to any of my relatives (including my parents) and therefore never formed any connection with them. I care about them less than someone I just met and have a good 5 minute conversation with like the milf in the last entry. Not only that, but I also severely lack conversational and other social skills because of this. This way of being raised is so wrong because I’m essentially a pet brick who greets people on command. That is no way to raise a human.

All I do is point out how bad my parents were at parenting but I’ve got no solution. That’s my biggest hesitation to having a child, not that any girl wants to have my child mind you. Although I’m extremely cynical, hateful, narcissistic, depressed, and suicidal, I think I turned out okay, intellectually. Maybe I don’t give my parents enough credit. At the cost of all forms of happiness, at least I can do math and write a fucking blog.

Yet Another Complaint

I always complain about my parents, almost as much as they complain about me. Everything’s a potential subject for complaint. The biggest one is probably the lack of respect for my opinions. I’m not allowed to have any thoughts that don’t align with theirs. And of course, not having an opinion is not an option either. People who can’t complain about a lack of something are amateurs. Food’s another big issue. My dad always forces me to eat his shit. Not literally of course but I really dislike his cooking.

…yup, I wrote that whole thing just to sneak that line in there…

Preconception of a New Blog

As I’ve mentioned in some earlier entries, even though I’ve practically given up on life, I’m still vain and materialistic enough to wish for fame and fortune. For that reason, I try to implement ads into the blog in an attempt to monetize it. However, I made the request to google adsense twice and was rejected both times. They don’t provide any reason but I’m guessing it might be because of the high level of profanity. I’m actually normally not an angry person so I guess it was a dumb decision to hyperbolize my anger. Well, I don’t know if it’s really dumb because it did make certain things funnier, like calling the guy a fuckin’ Chinaman.

I might start a new blog called “The Opinions of an Un-Opinionated Person” that won’t contain any profanity and focuses more on being funny and thoughtful as opposed to being depressed and suicidal. I haven’t decided if I’m actually going to start that blog yet. I’m actually in the middle of a project that I really should be wrapping up but I’m being an unmotivated fuck. For anyone who might be interested, I’m working on and here’s a good summary of the current project:

            I think one of the reasons I’m not sure about starting the new blog is because I have this fear of wasting time. My behavior revolves around my aversion to wasting my time as well as other people’s time. For that reason, I don’t do a lot of things, because it could potentially be a waste of time. Ironically, because I’m not doing things, I’m actually wasting a lot more time behaving the way I do.
This aversion for wasting time has been planted in me since childhood. Back in elementary school, I often needed parent signatures for test, school trips, or whatever. And whenever I asked my dad to sign it, he’ll grunt and moan and complain that it’s a waste of his time. It’s not like he reads it or anything because he doesn’t care. But it wasn’t really an option since he can’t read English anyway. I bring the paper and pen up to him and he considers the two seconds it takes for him to sign it to be a waste of time. Thanks dad for fucking up my perception of what wastes time.