Dissappointments

I've realised with some hesitation, that I am to the Chinese what the anti-Christ is to the Christians.

No, I was not some demon child bent on raising hell (though some may disagree), but I also was not what my parents had in mind when they had a child. I think every Asian parent believes that their new bundle of joy will also bring them a bundle of cash; That their newly swaddled child would bring wattles of cash; That their bouncing baby would study to become a successful doctor, businessperson, dentist or lawyer.

Little did they know the shameful path I would take - I am what you would call a disappointment to my parents. well, maybe dissappointment is a harsh word, but I definitely did not maake them proud to be parents. I am sure they would not say this to my face, but like most Asians, would do it in gossip behind my back.

Instead of a successful son in business, married to a beautiful fruitful wife, with 3 children (mostly boys), I turned out to be a whorish fag, who studied Psychology & Art History and theory in University. I suppose I redeemed some of my parents respect when I went back to college for I.T studies, and now work as a data specialist, but the fact of the matter remains that I did not turn out the way they wanted. My older brother (god bless him) is a successful Analyst, married to a beautiful kind wife, with a new home, who is I am sure well on his way to conceiving a child in the next few years (well his wife, not him). The pressure has been somewhat alleviated, and I am glad for it. Nevertheless, I feel terrible that the entire genealogical onus is now on my brother to be the one that bears our fathers’ name.

Anyhow, it was shameful enough that I didn’t pursue medicine, but as a child I was horrendous at arithmetic, and every person knows that Asians are mathematical geniuses. Sadly, my year-end average would still have been a fail if I reversed the digits. In an effort to make me more Asian-friendly for presentation to friends and family, my parents put me in piano studies, which again was a foolish attempt on their part. After 7-8 years of study, I quit upon reaching Grade 3. I was not a very astute pupil.

My parents during family or social gatherings would try to stay quiet about my studies and piano lessons. However, Asian families love to compare their children and highlight each childs' achievements in an effort to determine the hierarchy of their childs' intelligence. Of course when doing such a comparison, one always starts with the best or most intelligent child. I still remember one such conversation:

Mrs. Li: Oh yes, son number one now in gifted class. Get straight A’s and finish Royal conservatory for piano. Maybe now study violin. Son number two now get scholarship for school. He also play at Kiwanis festival. Win prize for piano! How your son’s do? Must be finish piano now after 6 years play!

Mum & Dad: Well, Justin is doing really well with straight A’s. His piano classes are also going very well, and he is now in the gifted class as well! He is also very good at sports, and has joined the math and chess clubs.

Mrs. Li: Oh fantastic! How about Son number 2?

M&D: Yes, well Son number 2 is a very...what would you say he is? Um, a very creative child. He also has quite the fascinating character, with many interesting qualities.

You know it’s bad when your parents are trying to inflate or boost your achievements by using adjectives to make you sound less retarded. It's like pimping your resume to make you sound more educated, experienced or qualified.

I still remember Report Card Day, when report cards were handed out, for us to give to our parents. Who does such a thing? I was terrified, and upon opening it to see a plethora of C’s, D’s and the occasional E, I decided it would be a brilliant idea to use Liquid paper to cover them over and write in a more acceptable grade. Completely oblivious to my own stupidity, I also decided it would be completely unnoticeable if I liquid papered the scathing comments section:

Alex , although bright, is , often lazy and un willing to do homework. His lack of focus is evident in his lack of rewards and accomplishments in class.

I looked upon my handy work and thought how brilliant I truly was, and how my teacher was more of an idiot for failing to see my hidden genius. I thought the mark of an intelligent man was in how they covered up a major fuck up. Of course, my parents weren’t stupid. They knew something was up, upon opening an already opened report card to see half the report card covered in crackling lumpy liquid paper. It might have worked a little better had I given the liquid paper time to dry, instead of trying to score the letter into the moist liquid paper like a kid carving his name in wet cement. Needless-to-say, the whole plot blew up in my face.

In a way, I feel sorry for my parents. To have dreams of a successful child dashed on the rocks of reality. A number of years ago my parents confided in me that they actually thought I was retarded (their words, not mine). Apparently, as the story goes, when I first came to Canada at 9 months old, I would bang my head in the crib so violently like an autistic child that the crib would move across the wooden floors to the other side of the room. This story brings no end of laughter at Christmas parties and family events where they reminisce about our childhood follies. I think they actually tell the story to comfort themselves and say,

See, how retarded and crazy he was? Now, he is doing quite well. We really must have been exceptional parents, because we took the retarded ness out of him. We are truly amazing parents!

Yes, Mum and Dad, you truly are! Thanks and I love you!