Carte blanche.

Bobby Drake was wrong: I still can't find it within myself to blame my parents for the way that everything's turned out. When you're given a bit of pocket money and free reign over your life, you either become incredibly disciplined and productive, or you fall into the trap of wanting material excess. It's not too difficult in figuring out which camp I belong to.

I could probably blame my father for not being here when I needed him most. He's admitted it to me on various occasions that he feels that he messed up, which led me to mess up. There was no father figure to look up to, because I was too young to look up to him (prior to the complicated aspects of the fiasco that was the marriage), and because there wasn't much of a man to look up to (during the overly dramatic bits of the fiasco).

I'm constantly worried about taking after my father. I'm not saying he's a bad example; he pulled himself and his family out of poverty and a zinc roofed kampung house into the cushy neighbourhood I'm in today --- singlehandedly. It's resilience and determination like that which deserves emulation from everyone. The problem is, despite his technical proficiency at his job and the accolades and awards he's received, he only latched onto his emotional quotient when he needed it the least.

My mother might be a little eccentric, but I can only blame my father for it. A certain part of me feels that he didn't really put his heart into it --- that I was more of a product of a passing thought than anything else. Did I save the marriage the first time round by simply being born? Probably --- the same can be said for most marriages.

My mother was probably happy as a cow in grass when we moved to New York. She'd relate to me later in the future over how a married couple should just consist of the basic nest, and not the extended family --- her wisdom to what would make a coupling work. The problem is, it wasn't what my father wanted.

His elder brother (let's call him the Kajang Uncle) had choked at the responsibility of having to care for my grandparents and my uncle (let's call him the Seputeh Uncle). At the same time, he had to see my aunt through law school in England and support his wife and child. I think my father still holds this against the K.U. and his wife; for not taking up the bare minimum duties of the eldest son in the family by taking care of the parents.

Heavy, no? It's all about tradition.

I suppose my father had the belief in me that I'd follow in his footsteps and be a decent (I use this term liberally in light of the circumstances), hard-working Chinaboy that I was (sometimes) raised to be. Instead, I had, and still have, the attention span of a goldfish, the appetite of a goat and I've been more demotivated by the world around me than Ron Jeremy would be if he shrunk.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely, no? As does unchecked, absolute freedom. It's always worst when you lose your resources to fund your unchecked, absolutely bummingly wonderful lifestyle. When the well's dry, you have to wait. And wait. And wait.

But was it all worth it? I'd still have to say yes. I hate people who'd think that years of slacking can't teach anyone anything. At the very least, it can teach someone that somethings can be done better with a little, just a fucking tad modicum little, of application and work. Also, life's simple pleasures probably mean more to me now than they did aeons ago.

The best I can do is to learn from all this and just float on, with the inkling to make myself a little different from the man who I owe the most to. Just a little.