I don’t know why it’s so bloody difficult to speak with him. As if we haven’t learnt that anything at all can ignite explosions. Has happened countless times before, and it will happen again. A helpful earworm to have at that point would be one of the Black Eyed Peas: “Shut up, just shut up shut up“. It might save my skin.
He never listens properly; he hears what he wants to hear, says what he doesn’t mean and means what he doesn’t say and expects me to know when he does mean what he says and when he doesn’t mean what he says he doesn’t mean, twists my words, and dismisses my views as illegitimate. It is not that my opinions are “not valid”, it is that he doesn’t like them. Can’t my stand be one of impartiality? I see pros and cons for each choice and I would much prefer to make an informed, collective decision after discussing with all who are involved. I would be happy with any outcome, since I hold no particular preference. But no, if I have no sided opinion of my own, I am apparently a person of poor conviction and a follower like 99% of the rest of the world, and I am “癲”.
And then, when I exasperatedly repeat what I had originally said, he questions pointedly, “Why didn’t you say that at the beginning?” The more I assert that I did say so in the very first place, the more he says I am lying.
I could do with a dictaphone as a friend. Seriously.
When I’ve had enough of being yelled “黐線!” at or being accused of “K型” thinking, I just want to barricade myself in my room and avoid all confrontation while I calm down. And until he calms down.
* * * * *
But no, 10 minutes later he takes his keys and barges in, no matter how desperately I try to distance myself.
Then, part deux.
* * * * *
Am being driven to self-destruction no thanks to the great generational and cultural divides. It’s all so overwhelmingly suffocatingly Confucian, the roots of their chagrin. And Cantonese can be a sharp, harsh language and its words can pierce like no English can.
Anger? A little. More of sadness, perhaps.