How I was Raised

Today is Mothers’ Day so I thought I’d write an appreciative blog post for my parents, but also since they wont read this I can be completely honest.

Over the years I have had a slight resentment for how I was raised. I believe it contributed to my disconnect with people and my inability to attach to others or get close to them. Growing up we never discussed anything personal. I spent a lot of time confused and unsure of what I was doing as far as anything goes.

Recently however, living alone, I have realized the benefits to this. As far as politics go, my parents never told me their views. If I had a question they answered it completely unbiased. I later came to find out their views, but they never influenced my political information. This allowed me to form my own opinion and they never tried to sway me from making up my own mind.

In addition to becoming my own person, not being directed in much has left me rather helpless when I comes to a lot of things. However, this has allowed my to learn how to manipulate those around me.. which sounds bad.. but I’m really good at getting things done.. or I guess, getting other people to get things done for me.

While not as beneficial as knowing how to do something, I will always know how to get help from others.

This blog post didn’t really sound very appreciative…

Oh well.

Happy Mothers’ Day!

Jessi

Elementary Gangs and Paper Writing

Please note that I do not share my grandmother’s views, except her view on cake. We both love a good cake. 

I thought I’d take a break from the mind numbing process of writing a five page “mini” paper about the history of media to update the world on my extremely racist grandmother.

Why? Well, procrastination mostly.

So she came over when I was mid-thesis writing because she wanted me to give my brother a birthday card (which probably contains a large amount of undeserved money, as she loves her 22 year old grandson best. pfft).

Anyway.

She asked me if I had seen my little cousin lately, and I told her I did about a month ago. To which she replied by telling me how tall my cousin has grown since I’d last seen her (she said it like I hadn’t seen her in years), and informed me she has started first grade (like I’ve been living under a rock and had no idea). Oh grandmothers.

On to the good part.

My grandmother then informed me that she did not like the school my cousin was starting at.

“Oh, why is that?” I inquired. (look I used inquired instead of asked, how fancy!)

“All the Bosnians and gangs.”

I thought she was joking.

Nope. In our small city, where we have very little crime of any sort, to the point where somebody stealing $50 from the local gas station will have their face thrown up on the news and talked about like it’s the most exciting thing since the discovery of the red panda (aren’t they just the cutest though?), my grandmother is convinced my 1st grade cousin is attending a gang ridden elementary school.

 

I have nothing more for you today, because.. I.. just.. ugh. Grandma.

 

Jessi

 

P.s. also note that I love my grandmother, but jeez.