Maybe I'm experiencing a quarter life crisis. Okay, not maybe.
(I am such a cliche in the worst way possible. I just want to escape to the middle of nowhere and be alone with my thoughts. Or maybe even without my thoughts. Ah, how luxurious would it be to detach myself from my mind?! It was this slew of notions that made me look into a silent mediation camp. If only I was gutsy enough to be one of those people that just goes where the wind takes them, sort of like Jack/Leonardo in Titanic.)
Anyway, the more I observe my parents, the more different from them I feel.
Sure, I inherited my father's work ethic and my mother's chocolate brown, almond shaped eyes, but it seems like that's where the similarities end. At least, that's how it has seemed for a few weeks.
A recent conversation. (Please keep in mind that my P.M.S. seems to be getting worse with age. Also, please keep in mind that talking about relationship etiquette ranks as one of the most awkward things I could do with them, right up there with watching an unexpected X Rated scene in a movie. )
Saumya: "If I plan to have a full time career, I don't think it's fair that I cook everyday for my family."
Dad: "Then you better find a husband who will help out."
Mom: "You won't find that. Even if you do, it'll somehow be put back on you. Just wait and see."
Saumya: "I'm not going to wait and see. This will be one of those things I say up front, before he would even think of popping the question. 'Hey, if we're both up at the crack of down and back after sundown, I expect you to split the domestic duties with me. And you can kiss me goodbye RIGHT NOW if you think I'm making you Indian food everyday. Take. It. Or. Leave. It. "
Dad: "Don't ever say that to a guy! If he knows this is how you think, he'll never marry you."
Saumya: "So, I'm just not supposed to say anything? That's crap. Unfair crap. "
Dad: "Say all you want. But only after marriage. He doesn't need to know this before."