When people who are “filming” at my house stay til 12:30am. People who are loud and keep my father up when HE’S ALREADY IN BED. People like that are inconsiderate. People who do not respect their “set” as someones home. A place where a family lives.
Is it not enough that we let you in the sanctuary of our home to film your little web series? You have the gall to stand in my kitchen and act as if I care that you have to talk to your cast about moving the film date, because you planned on coming Saturday morning at 8AM? Again, NOT CONSIDERATE AT ALL. This is a summer project for crying out loud. It not like you work for Paramount or anything, its going on youtube.
Geezus Christ. The least you can do is be respectful and wrap it up at a decent time. And how about never coming back ever again.
If my Father were to be described as a car, I would describe him as a minimalist car that would be coasting on neutral.
So hearing my dad saying anything vicious, heated, passionate, or just any ol’ plain emotion is pretty shocking.
I remember a couple years ago, I was hanging out with some cousins and they kept calling my Uncle, Bo (the equivalent of Dad in Vietnamese). What threw me off was, why didn’t I call my dad, Bo? Why did I call my dad, Ba (same thing as parenthesized above)?
"Because you’re Uncle is an idiot" came a snarl for my dad. I was taken aback from my dads tone.
As we learned in our History classes, but more so for me, Vietnam was split into 2 regions- the North and the South. Apparently, Southern vernacular coined Ba the preferred way to call dads, and in the North it was Bo.
My Uncle had taken a Northern Vietnamese refugee as his wife here in a America and did not attempt to curb his wife, my aunt, from having their children call him Ba versus Bo.
My dad sees it as my uncle allowing the Northern culture take our their Southern upbringing and it pits his teeth on edge, always.
In between the two avocado tress in my old house, one which held the most EPIC tree house as I was growing up, was strung up a hammock.
It had a pinkish beige tinge to it, and two huge white wooden pieces that kept the hammock in its shape.
I used to lay it with my dad. It doubled as a “wall” that countless play times was used on hours at end. I used to demand my mom to stand there and swing me in it.
So just the other day, we had a family bbq and the corn on the cob was fresh off the grill with its husks on. My mother shaved off the corn, and onto my plate.
Sweet, white corn exploded in my mouth and I was immediately reminded of my old house, the backyard, and the hammock.
It was a perfect summer day. Bright out, but shaded by the tress. My mother and father had sent me outside, since my brother was out on a playdate with his friends, with a can of corn. I wiggled myself through the side of the hammock and into the middle making a giant hole but perfect for me to keep my feet on the ground and swing myself back and forth.
I was so surprised and happy oh-my-gosh mom and dad gave me my OWN can of corn!
I contentedly swung back and forth while spooning canned corn into my over zealous little mouth.
PERFECT! Because I got 9 hours of sleep, and I feel more than rested to begin my July 4th festivities starting in t-minus 2 hours and 30 mins!
I’ll be jetting over to Lauren’s for her day time rager right after work (memo to self: buy the cups) and then SLIP’N’ SLIDING ALL DAY! Well, really only until 4:30, I have to go back to work and finish of this weeks of lessons strong.
Tomorrow is LA adventure day (I think) or picture adventure with my girls, and topping it off at Bigley’s. NEVER GOING HOME REALLY. I’ll be bounching around from house to house and living it up while Meg is in town and HOMG, I am so excited!!!