My life is different. I take a minute to look at the sky and reflect on my life. All I can see is the absence of my father. I try to understand why most of my friends perceive me as different but I remember that I am just ordinary. “Maybe they think I am different because they do not know my background, all that they know is that we are schoolmates, period, am ordinary and not different.” I convince myself and start wondering if, the sky is grey or the grey color I am seeing is because of pollution. I keep wondering if it is the season or perhaps it is just my mind which seems never to be at ease. Staring at the traffic light, as it turned red and green then red again, I feel like the change exhibited by the traffic light is the change in patterns of my thinking; I am different, no I just normal like anyone else. As the lights kept changing, I found myself searching and hoping that my father would show up to my student-parent conference. Starring at my wristwatch, I saw it was remaining only 5 minutes before the conference could begin. As I started counting down the minutes before the conference began, I felt the ticking of the clock in my eardrums getting louder and louder as every second passed. As I watched the other kids rush to their conference with their parents, the last glimmer of hope started to fade. I concluded, this was a no different day, it was just a day like the others. (passing grades essay)
It will be unfair to blame my father for my lonely experiences; the truth is that my father supported me in many ways. However, a concern that I deem worth to note is the fact that even though he supported me in chasing my dreams, still he actually never took part in them. Now, when I think about it, the whole situation seems to be entirely contradicted. He supported me by trying to give me the ‘best life.’ I have attended private schools my whole life, grew up with two nannies and learned to play piano with a private teacher. The price of this luxury stayed hidden for a long time. The third seat at our dinner table was always empty. The dust piled upon the razor on our bathroom shelf. The sports channel never showed on the TV. That was when I realized what kept my father away from home (passing grades essay)
In my entire life, my father has never attended any of my conferences because he has always been at work. It is sad to note that he did not even make it to my high school graduation. However, I will not be lying saying that I felt everything was normal and I was not upset. Contrarily, I had a strange feeling, the feeling of embarrassment. During the summer of my sophomore year, I went to Boston University for two weeks for a summer program. That was the first time I traveled to the United States, and my parents did not come with me. I was only 66 years old in a foreign country but did not care a thing. Did I really care about my broken English? No, I did not care a bit. According to me, was being independent by going to another country where I was alone, and I was extremely proud of myself. (passing grades essay)
I remember very well that day like it was yesterday, it was just before the orientation. All the students lined up eager to get their room keys and move in. The line was long, and I kept moving my eyes from one side to another looking at the diverse faces around me. Their parents accompanied all the students, and here there was a young hero alone. I decided to put my earphones in my ears quickly and pretended like I was busy on the phone. Why did I do that? Was there any reason really, probably it is because I did not want to be the only kid without parents there. Or maybe I did not want to be different; I might have wanted to be like the others. During the two weeks in Boston University, I quickly got along with my new friends. As I almost forgot the embarrassment I secretly felt when checking in, I was reminded again at the end of the program. (passing grades essay)
It was the morning of the last day. I remember getting out of my dorm and heading to the airport. I was waiting for the train to the airport, at the train station right across from my dorm; I saw many of my friends came out from the dorm with their luggage. Then I saw some of them hugging their parents with smiling faces, and some of them even cried when they saw their parents. “It must be their first time staying away from home!” I thought. Then I realized, it was my first time away from home too. Many of them are from across the country but still within the United States. For me, my case was different; I am from the other side of the world. I thought I was way too independent than them. However, I was not trying to look down on them for being kids. I was not trying to mock them either. Because it was also my first time stay in a place that is not my home for two weeks. I guess it was because my parents were not there with me. During the entire duration, I thought I was being independent by being here, an unfamiliar country, by myself. But then I realized that I was wrong. I was worried that they saw me alone standing at the train station. Therefore, I pushed down my hat, and I hoped the train could come faster. That was when I realized that as much as I want to be independent, I hate to be different and I hate more being treated differently. As I sat on the train, I decided to define the term differently. (passing grades essay)
dif·fer·ent
ˈdif(ə)rənt/
Different (Adjective):
1. Not the same as another or each other; unlike in nature, form, or quality.
For example; “You can play this game in different ways”
2. Distinct; separate.
What made me see that I was different is because every event that my dad was absent, my friends would come to me and say: “It’s okay, we don’t really want our parents to be here anyway.” Yes, I was not that sad when my father traveled to work. No, don’t get me wrong, I do love my father a lot. But I, guess I am just used to it., I am so used to the fact that my father is often not at home. I have been brought up not seeing him even when I was young. So whenever I saw him, I usually cried. Even though I do not remember crying, it is obvious that my mother cannot lie to me, I was young then. Now I usually find myself thinking about it. I don’t know if it is because I did not spend enough time with him as a kid, so he seems like a stranger to me. But I always think my relationship with my father is what makes me more independent. I don’t think I really care about my dad’s attendance, but I hate to let others think they need to be sympathetic to me because of my father’s absence. (passing grades essay)
Do I really hate to be different that much? No, I think all this is bullshit. I am not saying that I have been lying my entire experience. I did feel embarrassed, but it was only because I was being different by myself. And to me, that was being different in a bad way, at least that was what I thought. In Harry Frankfurt’s book On Bullshit he tries to define bullshit and there is a part that he mentions about Max Black and his essay “The Prevalence of Humbug.”
Rather, just as Black’s account suggests, the orator intends these statements to convey a certain impression of himself. He is not trying to deceive anyone concerning American history. What he cares about is what people think of him. He wants them to think of him as a patriot, as someone who has deep thoughts and feelings about the origins and the mission of our country, who appreciates the importance of religion, who is sensitive to the greatness of our history, whose pride in that history is combined with humility before God, and so on.” (Frankfurt, pg18) Black’s situation can perfectly reflect my case. I am bullshitting about the real reason that I want my father to be present at all these events. Because I care so much about the impression, not the fact that my father is absent, not the fact that my friend’s sympathies for me, but the fact that they might think of me as an outsider. I don’t think I purposely want to hide the fact that I care what others think of me. It is more like a grey area within me. When I was completely sure of the true reason so that I assume one, does it count as bullshit? It is not a makeup reason because that was what I thought it was. Of course, I know that I did not want others to see me when I pushed down my hat at Boston University. I know I felt awkward when others came to me and said: “It is okay!” But I never fully came to the realization that this is because I care about others’ impressions toward me. This reminds me of Joan Didion’s essay “On keeping a notebook.” Didion has a notebook where she writes down whatever she sees or thinks of, she later looks back, and the notebook can remind her what had happened in the past. However, what she writes down might not be wholly accurate or true. It is what she thinks it is, and therefore, the notebook itself might be bullshit. In my case, I thought I did not like my father’s absent because of I hate to be different, which I thought it was true. But in fact, it is because I worried too much about how others think of me. That is why my father’s absence become way more important than it should ever be. (passing grades essay)
Word Count: 1751
Work Cited:
Didion, Joan. Slouching Towards Bethlehem: Essays. Reissue ed. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2008. Print.
Frankfurt, Harry. On Bullshit. Princeton University Press, 2005. Print.
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