They aren't bad people but...

(I just thought that I should let you know, Ms. Abrams, that I don't normally condone blog posts about the utter tragedy of having slightly overbearing parents, but most of the assigned words have a negative tilt, and this was the only topic that I could incorporate them into.)

I like to consider myself a rather impartial character in the land of politics, not because I'm not old enough to vote and have a say in anything, but because I will always walk the middle line. I like to stay aloof from fanatics and those on the lunatic fringe, but that's not always easy when some of them are my parents.

My parents find homosexuals anathemas, verbally castigate anyone they consider to be too "poufy" or "fruity," and would like to rescind any laws that allow homosexuals the same marital rights as a heterosexual couple. Never mind that they have never actually met or conversed with a gay person; obviously they all deserve to be disparaged for loving someone because their love is unnatural and disgusting. My nine-year-old little brother has picked this up and says he will not watch American Idol ever again because "there's gay people on it and I hate them."

My mother is a steadfast Roman Catholic. My family attends church every Sunday. We observe every holiday that requires a moratorium on meat or other indulgent comestibles. My father, having come from rural, communist China, does not have a declared religion but does believe in a paramount deity. When I was eleven and told him I didn't believe in god, he accosted me for being a "godless communist."

I do not care who marries who because it's none of my business. I don't believe in god because I can't. However, I keep my views surreptitious, stay laconic when my parents speak about things I don't agree with. I have scruples about doing so, but unfortunately I value a quiet, peaceful house and not being kicked out of said house more than trying to change viewpoints that have been in place for decades. So I cede any freedom of speech I might have to my parents, and let them think I am a good homophobic Catholic because I know they would love me less otherwise.

These are the little things that I give up so that my parents let me do whatever I want, go to concerts until one in the morning sometimes, go to the city on a train without them, give me money. Every time I wonder if it's a fair trade.

Olympians

I like to watch the Olympics mostly because it's a show in which every character is a protagonist, there is no cryptic storyline or treacherous perfidy, and requires me to actually watch the screen only occasionally. It's also nice to see the overt passion of the competitors and ebullient faces of the victorious, but I like it mostly because it's comforting in its repitition.

I don't have to hold my breath or hands in front of my face, wary of unexpected or unwanted endings. I can give my mind permission to meander off because there will always be an immediate replay or recap of anything I might have missed. Even though injustice is omnipresent, in the Olympics, victories are won more linearly: people win because they win, not because they might have paid off a judge or killed a man or had incredible luck. They work hard despite injuries and fatigue, have incredible sang-froid when facing the monster that will not be satiated until all their dreams are either shattered or placed on a ribbon around their neck. They are Olympians;they are mere men. That's probably the part I like most.