Every good story has some sort of conflict and resolution. The story aspect of this blog just happened to progress rather precipitously.
The conflict: my attempt to correct cognitive dissonance by going on a truth-telling spree
The one side: I would be telling the truth, which is usually a good thing. Some people have an abnormal hatred of liars, and some of those people have guns. I don’t want to be shot, so therefore I should tell the truth. That's pretty flimsy logic, but people do hate liars.
The other side: My family would be largely hurt if they ever come across my blog or my book if it gets published. To spare their feelings would involve a little lying, but not to an excessive amount.
--
So what is the resolution? Why am I shutting down this particular blog?
At the climax of my story, I faced a decision to lie to my grandmother or to tell the truth and risk hurting her. As I got to that point, it was very obvious what I was going to do: I lied a little white lie.
I have revealed my big black lie already, so a little white lie here and there to spare grandma’s feelings won’t hurt. If you’re calling me a hypocrite or that I take the easy road, so be it. Families are held together by little white lies.
Apart from that, why am I stopping the posts about my life story as it pertains to family? Well, I can’t do it without losing control of my emotions and insulting my parents. And by withholding this part of my life, it is not lying; it is not even a lie of omission. It is simply a matter of selective privacy.
If I get into a serious relationship, I will discuss it openly and frankly. I will share my feelings and all that good stuff. And I will buy bags from French Luxury Houses, overly expensive kicks, and shiny trinkets. (Ladies, better get on the g-train quick before it leaves the terminal for good!).
Thank you to all my friends, especially my followers, who’ve been along for the ride. Please visit and follow my new blog LikeTheLetterG.blogspot.com. It promises to be more fun, less sad, with shorter posts and even some poetry. Better taste, fewer calories! Or as the cute drug rep says (while you’re imagining her in nothing but heels and black-rimmed glasses), 'by modifying one little functional group, we’ve made this drug 10x more effective.' Except I'm not lying!
On this little journey, I’ve figured out how to deal with the topic of my family and my life thus far. It has been truly enlightening for me. I hope you’ve learned a little bit about me, about who I really am. It’s been refreshing to be so honest, but some honesty can be a bit much, perhaps even bordering on indecent exposure. TMI, g. TMI.
Thank you and goodbye for now. See you at LikeTheLetterG.blogspot.com
-g
Sunday, December 6, 2009
The Conclusion
I repented the evil I was about to commit. I was going to out my mother as a liar in front of my grandmother in order to gain some sort of solace from all my years of deceit. But I didn’t. Better to be a liar than a bastard son.
This is not the old country, but my parents and grandparents are products of the old country. And although I consider myself more American than Vietnamese, I am still of Viet ancestry. My country no longer exists in geography; it exists only in hearts and minds of its expatriates. And it exists in the hearts of its expatriates’ sons, even if it doesn’t exist in their minds. Communist Vietnam is not my Vietnam.
As I was about to tell my grandmother the truth, I saw the look in her eyes. The truth doesn’t matter to her. The only thing that mattered was the well-being of her kids and grandkids. My immediate family, my parents and my brother and myself, have never had any kind of family experience that would be termed ‘normal.’ It wasn’t even the typical Asian American experience (I wasn’t asked to play tennis or a musical instrument). But we had each other, and that is the absolute most important thing in the world. I realize that now.
There was an actress, Mackenzie Phillips, who outted her father for committing incest with her when she was younger. This past Thanksgiving, her step mother didn’t invite her back home. She made headlines and her book sold well.
I don’t want to gain fame that way (not that there was any incest or anything). I don’t want to be uninvited to Viet New Years. I don’t want my family to hate me. And with this blog, my thoughts and writing are coming out almost unfiltered, as they are written on a daily basis. Looking back, there were several posts which probably should have been kept private, especially the last post.
Although it was therapeutic to put this out to where everyone can potentially read it, it was largely a diatribe that should have been kept secret. And I doubt anyone would benefit much from my blasting my family, but my family would be largely hurt by my disrespect.
So I’m going to restart one of my personal journals again to reflect on the parts of my life which should be kept private for now. I am still writing my memoirs about my life, but I am reconsidering trying to get it published. I had mentioned that the memoirs were largely for me to make sense of where I came from to get a feeling of where I was going (or needed to be). The difference between the memoirs and this blog is that the memoirs would undergo extensive revision before it reached the public.
The memoirs would have a cohesive message with a happy ending. It would encourage readers to seek for their passion but to first take care of their family. It would document my coming of age story with some angst, but would leave the readers with feel-good warmth afterward. Not this blog. I hesitate to imagine what people felt after reading that last entry. At the very least, it would have been confusion.
So this is the end of ‘The Dreamer’s Son’ blog. I am not going to leave you humor junkies high and dry though. I am starting the like the letter g blog to continue my thoughts sans any ill-feeling toward my family. You may see posts which look oddly familiar as I reserve the right to plagiarize my own work.
Unfortunately, posts about the objectification of women may continue for a brief while as I attempt to study the mostly apocryphal subject of feminine wiles. There will be posts on personal development, essential male knowledge (do you know how to tie a tie?), and Viet lessons.
The pharmacist lessons may stop because I consider my profession of pharmacy to be just that: professional. I wouldn’t want my pharmacist insulting me even if it was done anonymously. And I wouldn’t want my pharmacist posting about how he objectifies customers while he counsels them. I take my duties and responsibilities as a pharmacist very seriously, and I aim to be professional.
Also, I feel that connecting the writer and pharmacist limits the expression of the writer. For example, I bet those writers who have health degrees and write about health subjects are largely tame in their discussion of other topics (if they even write about other topics).
One of my professors had asked if I was going to use my pharmacist knowledge in my writing. I suppose I wouldn’t be able to help it, but pharmacy probably won't be a focus. I want to be a writer who happens to be a pharmacist, not a pharmacist who writes about pharmacy stuff.
...to be continued in the epilogue...
This is not the old country, but my parents and grandparents are products of the old country. And although I consider myself more American than Vietnamese, I am still of Viet ancestry. My country no longer exists in geography; it exists only in hearts and minds of its expatriates. And it exists in the hearts of its expatriates’ sons, even if it doesn’t exist in their minds. Communist Vietnam is not my Vietnam.
As I was about to tell my grandmother the truth, I saw the look in her eyes. The truth doesn’t matter to her. The only thing that mattered was the well-being of her kids and grandkids. My immediate family, my parents and my brother and myself, have never had any kind of family experience that would be termed ‘normal.’ It wasn’t even the typical Asian American experience (I wasn’t asked to play tennis or a musical instrument). But we had each other, and that is the absolute most important thing in the world. I realize that now.
There was an actress, Mackenzie Phillips, who outted her father for committing incest with her when she was younger. This past Thanksgiving, her step mother didn’t invite her back home. She made headlines and her book sold well.
I don’t want to gain fame that way (not that there was any incest or anything). I don’t want to be uninvited to Viet New Years. I don’t want my family to hate me. And with this blog, my thoughts and writing are coming out almost unfiltered, as they are written on a daily basis. Looking back, there were several posts which probably should have been kept private, especially the last post.
Although it was therapeutic to put this out to where everyone can potentially read it, it was largely a diatribe that should have been kept secret. And I doubt anyone would benefit much from my blasting my family, but my family would be largely hurt by my disrespect.
So I’m going to restart one of my personal journals again to reflect on the parts of my life which should be kept private for now. I am still writing my memoirs about my life, but I am reconsidering trying to get it published. I had mentioned that the memoirs were largely for me to make sense of where I came from to get a feeling of where I was going (or needed to be). The difference between the memoirs and this blog is that the memoirs would undergo extensive revision before it reached the public.
The memoirs would have a cohesive message with a happy ending. It would encourage readers to seek for their passion but to first take care of their family. It would document my coming of age story with some angst, but would leave the readers with feel-good warmth afterward. Not this blog. I hesitate to imagine what people felt after reading that last entry. At the very least, it would have been confusion.
So this is the end of ‘The Dreamer’s Son’ blog. I am not going to leave you humor junkies high and dry though. I am starting the like the letter g blog to continue my thoughts sans any ill-feeling toward my family. You may see posts which look oddly familiar as I reserve the right to plagiarize my own work.
Unfortunately, posts about the objectification of women may continue for a brief while as I attempt to study the mostly apocryphal subject of feminine wiles. There will be posts on personal development, essential male knowledge (do you know how to tie a tie?), and Viet lessons.
The pharmacist lessons may stop because I consider my profession of pharmacy to be just that: professional. I wouldn’t want my pharmacist insulting me even if it was done anonymously. And I wouldn’t want my pharmacist posting about how he objectifies customers while he counsels them. I take my duties and responsibilities as a pharmacist very seriously, and I aim to be professional.
Also, I feel that connecting the writer and pharmacist limits the expression of the writer. For example, I bet those writers who have health degrees and write about health subjects are largely tame in their discussion of other topics (if they even write about other topics).
One of my professors had asked if I was going to use my pharmacist knowledge in my writing. I suppose I wouldn’t be able to help it, but pharmacy probably won't be a focus. I want to be a writer who happens to be a pharmacist, not a pharmacist who writes about pharmacy stuff.
...to be continued in the epilogue...
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