Sad to say, my hangover is from parental visitation, not from alcohol--yet the effects are rather similar in that I had to sleep it off for a couple of hours today. And this was a visit from the less stressful set of parents. Still, my mom can be a little high-energy (okay, a LOT) and so visits tend to exhaust me. I won't go into detail. It'll just make me tired all over again.
Of course, my dad inflicted his own unique form of stress on me this week, too, via telephone. I'm never sure whether he says these things to be motivational (however misguidedly), or if he's trying to shame me into reconsidering my career path. Anyway, he told me about the son of a family friend, a guy my age who I used to play with when we were kids (incidentally also the product of a very similar mixed marriage, only he's half Afghani). I get occasional updates about this guy from my dad--he got his MD and is working for the military; he's working in Afghanistan for Doctors Without Borders, etc. etc. Anyway, now he's apparently going back to school to get a second master's in public health or something. I mean, great for him and all, but is my dad trying to tell me something? He did spend an awful lot of time lecturing me when I was a kid about becoming a doctor, lawyer, scientist, or engineer. 
I'm probably the black sheep of that side of the family.
On another topic, here, finally, is the promised JPEG of my latest poster for the Prospect Theater. Rob did the little drawing of Shakespeare, as well as the sketch of the skull which I then experimented with in Photoshop.
Also, here is a scan of a very interesting piece of misdirected mail we got. It belongs to a neighbor around the corner who is evidently on the aged side of life. 
I used to think Sunset was an old-person's magazine when I was a kid, mainly because my grandfather got it, but now I actually like Sunset, and after seeing this magazine cover, I realize that THIS, people, is truly an Old Person's Magazine. In case you can't read the tiny print on the scan, it says "The magazine that brings back more good times." Good Lord.
And, oh yeah--I've been crazy hella busy. No rest for Sarah. Not much blogging, either.
5 comments:
Oh, yes. Back to those good times where Certain People stayed on the back of the bus and in their own neighborhoods where they belonged.
(Shudder.)
You know, with the Dad thing, I've decided thusly: If you have something to say, SAY IT. Otherwise I'm going to assume you're speaking Sanskrit and just smile blandly at you and go on with MY LIFE.
It's so much better than trying to translate.
Who needs a translator? After all, we've been married for, what, 13 years now? Only last year they were still trying to hook me up with some girl I had a crush on in like the 3rd grade.
They never learn. You just learn to cope with it. Preferably by writing about them in your book so transparently that they can identify themselves, and so that they can (hopefully) feel some shame.
Or not.
Oh, no doubt your dad is saying something. Definitely funny that he should beat around the bush. My dad would compare me and my sisters and us and our cousins all the time. Very unsubtly. My dad prefers brutal honesty. Stuff like, "Well, that's not the only big mistake you're going to make in your life," "You can go ahead and do that if you want, but there's no way you'll actually succeed," or "It's too bad you're so dumb. Your little sister is really smart." Those first two things he actually said to my sister about some recent big life decisions and the last two he said to me when I was a pre-teen and already feeling inadequate! :D Parents, gotta love 'em!
My father did this too! What a relief to know that I'm not the only one. Even if I'd gotten an M.D., PhD, eight books published, etc., it would never have been enough for him. God save me from doing this to my children!
On my father's one and only trip to Japan, I served as his informal interpreter, taking him around to see various Japanese scientists he was interesting in meeting. I had just passed my Japanese proficiency exam and I was puffed up with pride. My father took it all very much in stride and seemed profoundly unimpressed. Then I happened to mention my Vietnamese students, and he asked me how well I spoke Vietnamese. I told him that I didn't speak it at all; and that even if I did, I certainly wouldn't speak it when I was teaching a multilingual group how to speak English. "You limit yourself!" he said despairingly. "You should speak six or seven foreign languages by now!" Bless his heart.
When I got my M.A., the first thing he said was "When are you going to get your PhD? You're old enough to have that by now!"
S i g h.
I've written 'interesting' instead of 'interested' -- sorry -- I hate infelicities!
That magazine cover is so pathetically out of touch. Reminisce? I'd say 'Delusion' was more appropriate. Dad's hat and mom's belt -- what relics of the past...
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