Wednesday, June 17, 2009

And Now, Back In AdultLand

Oh, the Angst. The continuing saga of the teenage angst in the apartment next door. It started with a particularly angsty letter . Or maybe with a particularly tenacious bike. And now comes the face-to-face conversation with the owner/mother, which only proved that the apple doesn't fall very far from the tree.

I love that phrase.

I'm not (yet) a mother, but I'd like to think that if/when I am, I wont be the sort that takes my children's words as gospel. I remember spinning the truth (heck, I still do it) for my audience, and if that audience is mom, the spin factor was high. So when someone called me a "fatty-fatty-no-friends", I tended to communicate that they called me a "fat bitch." The impact was stronger. I'd like to think, as a parent, I might discount things by a reasonable margin. Like, 15%. 

Apparently this is an antiquated approach. I was confronted, when speaking with mommy dearest, with a set of facts that were patently false, and a secondary set that were highly spun. You kids were not the only ones that got "shovel the snow!" emails. I find it dubious that they were shoved on the stoop by a 50 year old man. They are not being singled out for their youth, arbitrarily. We've discussed the mouse situation at least 3 times with them - it is not news. 

Great. Just when you thought biblical literalism was bad, you now have offspring literalism. 

Further, apparently the sensitivities of these young souls is to be considered. Now they are offended. If only we came and spoke with them directly, rather than sending emails. Because, a building full of professionals that fly around the country all the time is definitely going to get their shit together to mollycoddle the 21 year old, to ensure that he feels comfortable with the communique. 

I just don't understand what's behind all this entitlement. Maybe it's a sore spot for me this week. Is it at all possible that the world is not out to get you so much as that it is just HARD out here in reality land, where we work for a living and manage our own water heaters - and that shit just happens. Not to you, but near you. And that's, perhaps, the lesson you're meant to learn when you're 21... 

No comments: