January 6th, 2005

Eyes

Difference between LiveJournal and a personal/independent blog.

On an independent blog, you can't be sure who would be reading it.  It can feel as if you were printing out flyers with your thoughts and distributing them in a busy square.  It could be a friendly eye, a stranger, or even your enemy that would be reading the flyer.  That kind of uncertainty makes you nervous and puts you on the defensive.  You feel more self-conscious, and feel compelled to let out only refined thoughts and ideas.

On the other hand, LiveJournal is friend-oriented.  You know that your entries will be read mostly by people that care about you, through their friends syndication.  It can make you feel at ease, and you can actually think out loud without having to worry about saving your face or being branded immature.  When in doubt, you can even make some of your cruder entries friends-only on LiveJournal.

Now if LJ only supported trackback... :D  I'd submit a patch (because LJ is open-source), but I'm too lazy.

Eyes

Becoming responsible for one's own life

vhg posted a comment on fujiwara's recent journal entry:

Third, sometimes moving out forces you to live a healthy life because it's, more or less, do or die.  I did NOT know how to take care of myself when I first moved out for school, but I managed.  Sure, my parents taught me how to cook, but they never taught me how to plan ahead for meals or make sure I eat at a decent time (read as: BEFORE 10 p.m.). *shrug* Like I said: you deal with it; sometimes the best thing to do is to listen to your parents so that they build up some degree of trust in you.  It sucks monkey balls, but eventually they'll learn to respect you; most of the time they *do* know what's best.

The first part -- that moving out forces one to live a healthy life -- is very true.  Once you're out there to live on your own, it really gets to you that there's nobody to help you out.

I landed in the bay area back in 1997, when I was 22.  I was all by myself.  The rest of my family was back in Korea, and the closest relatives (aunt's family) were in SoCal.  You'd never know how psyched up I was up until the summer next year, when mom came over to the states to live with me.  The 9-month period between 1997 and 1998 has changed me probably more than anything else did in the rest of my life.  It was such a powerful experience.  For the first time, I was in complete control over my life.  I had nobody to fall back on.  I had nobody to blame if something went wrong.  It was very stressful, but also very empowering at the same time.


Now the second part (gaining parents' trust)...  Actually, things aren't as simple when it comes to parent-child relationship.  Let me quote Kahlil Gibran here:

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They came through you but not from you
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

I observe a lot of parents either fail to realize this, or realize it too late, i.e. after ruining the relationship.

Gaining parents' trust is a slippery thing.  Ideally, your parents would give you true trust because they realized you've now become an adult and it's time to let you go your own way.  However, a lot of times, parents give you trust simply because you don't deviate from what they think is good for you.

In this sense, just listening to your parents is not exactly enough.  What makes them truly trust you is to realize that you become responsible for your own life.  The actual direction that you're going is less important than to show them that you indeed think hard to find and follow the best path for yourself.

Talk to your parents.  Share your worries with them, and show that you indeed care about a lot of things as a grown-up individual.  Even when you aren't really seeking for their advice because you think they don't know much about what worries you, share your worries anyways.  Because it's an evidence.  Because it helps them realize that you've become mature, and that it's indeed time to let you go.