I was driving across Jakarta and my parents were not making any sound. I looked to my side, and my father’s head was bobbing of dozed-ness. Yep, he’s almost there. I looked up to the rear view mirror and sure indeed, my mother was conveniently napping. I checked the time, it’s 3 PM. I said to myself, fair enough, it’s their nap time anyway. A minute later I was amazed at how the scene took place and I naturally thought of it as normal. It was not the first time I noticed that I was the only one who was awake in the car but this time the follow-up thoughts enthralled me.
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We had just finished a family lunch and (I) had somehow agreed that we hadn’t had enough time spent with our extended family, so off we went to a cousin’s house; and no, it was not close by, it was a forty five minutes drive. It was quite pleasant, I have to admit; I skipped a significant number of family gatherings so that when I really need to attend I would be able to find it enjoyable. This time it was nice. We left before anyone – but the babies – got cranky. On our drive back home, I commented my observations of the parents role in the family; I told my parents how as adults we needed to be more aware in the way we intercept and handle relationships with other adults and, specifically, the kids we were dealing with, to avoid sending confusing messages for this young sprouts; I told them that in a way some cousins and aunts were being quite judgmental and insensitive regarding the issue. I was consulting to them how offsprings grow reflecting the parents’ ability to cope with life, that kids were mirrors of parents’ vulnerability; and thus while parenting can be challenging and filled with insecurities, parents and adults can be very judgemental when conducting themselves. Adults can be quite the bullies.
I told my parents how I knew a mother who said that she aims her 18 year old daughter to get married after she completes her undergrad, and that the daughter seem to be equally excited; and I found myself quite disturbed. This particular friend’s daughter was more excited to for the vision of a husband than the challenging fun of college life that she would begin in a couple of weeks. Perhaps it’s just a matter of perspective, perhaps it was just something that she preferred and I didn’t. I just saw it as something that I wouldn’t have wanted to do. I mentioned how adults can mess up a child’s perspective, and as I thought that I should impose my idea of pursuing life, I am actually contributing to the mess. I dug more of this disturbance and found that perhaps I found it so relevant because I was her. I thought of being married at 24, when I was 18. I didn’t have references of alternatives, of other options that might work; however, I do have friends whose idea of an ideal future is children and family at a young age, and have always reflected that consistency. But as this particular mother continuously throw the idea of, “Do you know anyone for my daughter? A foreigner is much preferable, Americans. No, make that Australians, cause then the travel time when I need to visit wouldn’t be too long,” I just wonder how much of the want is of the daughter’s, and how much was of her mother’s. In a way, I really wanted to infiltrate this 18 year old just so she could have options of alternative, I want to be the devil’s advocate.
And so, as I started to listen to myself bringing this topic to my parents, I was astounded at how comfortable I was getting lost in (one of the few) the path of adulthood. As the realisation hit me, I started to feel apprehensive.
My brain went for a check-up on other aspects of life: on how I see money and work (important, meaningful, and pleasant, but should be under your control, not controlling you); on how I see beliefs and behaviours (I have my own, people have theirs, and we all need our spaces to make our choices. Of course I think what I believe is right, but does that mean you’re a less person than I? Not really); on how I see the essence of family and family events (cherish both for short interaction, anything more than four hours may result in severe crankiness); on how I see my future companionship (call me if you’re interested to know); on how my personal style is (getting more and more resembling to a best friend’s and my mom’s.) I am quite content with how I perceived these issues, but that I have started perceiving these issues (that I thought of as old people’s issues) is quite alarming, adulthood is here and it had been filled with compromises.
Making compromises can be quite dreadful if you think over, because how would you be the best of yourself when you have to be less of yourself? True, compromises may unlock doors, and less of you may open spaces for people to fit in – people with keys. For some people, this is a routine practice, an I-don’t-mind-it-at-all, a matter-of-fact; for others it’s appalling to just even consider. (Recalling Big Fish’s forest scene with Edward trying to cut the harrowing shortcut, while Carl the giant rather take a detour to get where he wanted to be.) Adulthood is a wood, and passing it is a bit like unraveling vulnerabilities with (forced) confidence. ‘Wood’ is indeed more frightening than ‘hood’, it is dense, it causes scratches and you tumble down the hidden showing root and you let yourself lay unmoving for quite a time. Perhaps they (whoever ‘they’ are) call it ‘adulthood’ to console humans’ brain who would relate hood as a more warming and embracing milieu; perhaps they wanted us relate to the idea to ‘childhood’ when things are playful and amusing; perhaps they had wanted us to keep on seeing it as playful and amusing.
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I remember that I always looked forward for the next phase in life to embark when I wasn’t even there yet – I couldn’t wait to be in junior high when I was in elementary school , a high schooler when I was a junior high, a college student when I was seventeen; I couldn’t wait to make my own money when I was in college, and so on, and so forth. I was aware of these ‘awaiting’ moments. I thought the next phase in life would be more certain, but, truth be told, I have been guessing every step of the way.
There is no closing to this entry, because, well, I haven’t find any. My only resolution is to watch Big Fish again. I’d find the old Edward retelling a fairytale of his life, because he can; and that is very comforting. In my attempt to conclude, I was wise enough to do a research on Glastonbury and found how it is also the site where King Arthur and Queen Guinevere were said to be buried. I thought it was comforting to know that something as closely related to mortality, as a burial ground is also a known as this legendary music festival.
May this ‘wood’ be as audacious.
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