The F word

My immigrant parents never failed to remind me of the sacrifices they made when they made the move to Canada. Making sure to tell me all the gory details, and how their unwavering conviction saw them through the hardest of times. They lived a life not for pleasure’s sake but for righteousness itself. Always noble and always in the name of the big old F word…Family.

Its that guilt that made me promise to become something I don’t really care to be; a big shot. Mum, but mostly Dad, egged me on to be so audacious as to say I was going to be the bloody Prime Minister! I was just a 10 year old jerk kid. But the pride of it all and the honour I would bestow upon my family was paramount to everything…so I kinda tried for a little while.

Pretty early on I figured I’d best stay out of politics…if you know me, you’ll laugh because you know me. Any who, I tried for other fancy titles. And failed. Why? Because I didn’t really want it.

What I did want was quite simple in fact. What I wanted, is what I want still. And when I say it, its going to sound stupid as hell.

Fun. I just want to have fun.

Yes, I know that doesn’t sound special, because who doesn’t want to have fun? I get that. But what you might not understand is, my only goal in life IS to have fun.

And when I tried to explain this to my folks…well, all I got was that tilted head thing that dog’s do when they don’t comprehend what you’re saying. Because fun is not a job. Fun doesn’t pay the bills. Fun is a child’s endeavour. But for a full grown adult, it suddenly drops in priority. All those other boring expectations bump it down. And I completely understand why. You need to look after necessities first. And its not like I haven’t. I’ve sufficiently held down jobs and often did a pretty good job doing it. Which then provides me with money, yes, to pay for rent, food and all that kinda crap. But the second I get a penny more…

I spend it on having fun. I even married a guy because he was a hoot. Still is. So I guess I’ll keep him. But that’s as far as I’m willing to commit to adult things. Job and partner = money to play and someone to play with. Kids are out of the question. Too much effort.

And that’s about it. My whole life’s ambition is to just have a good time. That’s it.

Is there something wrong with that? Should I aspire to make a difference in the world? A world so flawed and in desperate need of repair. Is it plain irresponsible of me to ignore my civic duty and just party on?

Not sure.

Though I may have come up with a somewhat self-serving justification for my personal priorities. Which brings me back to my parents and the culture they grew up in. Middle Eastern society has a tendency to glorify martyrs. When I say martyrs I’m not talking about extreme examples. I mean the modern definition of ‘a person who displays or exaggerates their discomfort or distress in order to obtain sympathy or admiration.’ Yup, that’s the one. And my family eats that shit up. You could literally get a trough and fill it till it pours over the sides and they’d still beg for more!

Its ridiculous.

And I was born in Toronto, so I never really cared for it. Then again, my life was easy. All that suffering my folks did, during revolutionary and war times, I’ll never know. As far as I’m concerned, I came out scot-free.

So for this reason, my resolution to enjoy my existence as much as possible, somehow makes sense. Why did my family go through so much hardship only for their first born on a new continent to do the same? Wouldn’t it be more rewarding for all if the outcome of such strife was the pursuit of happiness?

Maybe I should change my title to that…

Or the dilemma of an immigrant’s kid. Either way you get my point. I’m overdosing on fun and good times because they were pretty much starved. And don’t take me as an ungrateful son of a… because what I’m trying to say is I am grateful. VERY.

So grateful that I’ve dedicated my entire life to the one thing my parents couldn’t have…

FUN.