lil boodro’s lil thoughts: vol 1: the christmas story
Twas the night of christmas, we gave and received all our shit, not a boodro was worrying, not even a bit. The friends they were talking, around a lil fire, we talked into the night, but we all began to tire. We were laughing and having fun, when a text boodro received, a text from his mother, who was beginning to grieve. She couldn’t fall asleep, with her son out at night, fear of drunk drivers, were giving her a fright. We couldn’t understand the worry, as I had only two beers, and it was two hours ago prior, we remembered yelling cheers. To make my mother happy, would be a good christmas gift, but I also wanted to stop her worrying, to make her perspective shift.
On christmas night I went over to my friends house to catch up with people I have spent many years of my life with. They are some of my best friends, and two of them have been my best friends since kindergarten. Kindergarten! Some of my favorite life memories are hanging out and doing absolutely nothing but talking with these people. I miss talking to them as much as I used to, but that’s just the way the half baked, 24 year old, real life cookie crumbles. The story begins on a cold christmas night chillin and reminiscin reminded us of the bonfires and beers we used to enjoy together. It was the perfect way to end a great holiday weekend at home.
I’m gonna tell you a lil story, but let me give you a lil preface first. I believe, like many others I’m sure, that I could have one of the closest groups of friends of all time. It’s impossible to prove, but hear me out. I’ve had the same group of friends for almost 20 years of my life now. There are six of us who are still close from kindergarten. Four of us went to the same college (14 years of school together), and three of us currently live in san francisco. That’s three to 5 hours together almost every single day for twelve years of grade school and high school. Three of us played on the same basketball team for 8 years. Practice was almost every single day. That is just a stupid ridiculous amount of time to spend with a group of people in the first 24 years of life. We have watched each other grow up.
My full group of friends is now much more spread out and we all work full time jobs. However, we can still talk to each other whenever we want. Technology has enabled us to stay constantly connected with our friends and family. It hasn’t been until the last 15 or so years (not gonna look it up, doesn’t really matter in this context) that this could be possible. But now, with all of those darn phone apps and social medias the young kids are using, we stay connected consistently throughout the day, even indirectly. Omg, did you see my snapchat story?! Has any other group of people in recent history communicated this much while growing up? I ask myself, staring pensively out of a moist, bone chillingly cold window in my small railroad apartment located in the mission district of san francisco california.
I have realized that the conversations I have with my close group of friends are in fact different because we don’t need to include as much context. This form of communication is like a subset of a language that only me and my friends know. Every group of friends has this subset of language, because their shared experiences eliminate the need for the explanation of unknown situational context. Woah. This subset even extends beyond the restrictions of verbal communication. You know what I’m talking about? The talking, without the talking? The absence of words, man. Telepathy, esp, sorcery! In other words, we need no words.
A group of my friends had a christmas dinner before we went our separate ways for the holidays. My friend and I were both eating chips. We made eye contact and noticed we were both nodding our heads. We knew instantly that we were both nodding our heads in approval of the tastiness of the chips. We nodded that we were both nodding in this shared approval. Then, we saw two others in the room nodding and eating chips at the same pace we were. We both continued to look back and forth, observing our friends who were also nodding in an unknowingly shared approval of the tastiness of the chips. We then began nodding at each other for nodding, for the tastiness of the chips, for the pace that the chips were being eaten, and that we both noticed the two others nodding and we instantly started dying laughing.
Although verbal communication is not always necessary, I still prefer communicating with them out loud, using words. I enjoy talking with them so much because the bullshit doesn’t exist between us anymore. This bullshit that I’m referring to is made up of judgements, worries, and self consciousness that one can experience while communicating with less familiar people. It’s usually more difficult to communicate with strangers in comparison to our friends because it’s necessary to include more context for it things to make sense.
Without this bullshit, you can say what you feel without the fear of being judged by the listener(s), and what the listener hears will not make a single difference in the way the listener treats you. This bullshit that exists between others is a societal issue that I will not dive into right now. But good god, the politically fueled name calling going on over social media has really proven that there is an utter lack of uneducated, biased, and thoughtless discussion going on. That’s bullshit.
Okay, back to the story. Around 2 am on christmas night, my mom texted me asking me where I was. She was hoping I would come home soon. Some of you may be thinking, waitttt whattttt??? You’re 24 years old, and your mom is still concerned when you’re out late? However, some of you may know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s all relative, remember? I had driven my friends, so I read them the text and said we should head out. However, I was surprised when one of my friends wasn’t ready to leave. He couldn’t understand why she was worried about me. He probably thought she was exaggerating and would fall asleep. However, I knew she wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep.
I became more frustrated the longer we waited. I began contemplating whether to speak up and get angry with my friend, or to continue waiting silently until he was ready to leave. I knew my mom would be mad the next morning, but knew she would get over it. I contemplated for another 10–15 minutes. I usually take the time to decide whether to get truly serious with my friends because it’s just so much better not to. Cause. Ya know. Silliness. Better. Then I decided I was just going to say something, because my friend was being a lil shit and I was down to make it an intense situation. Sometimes seriousness is good.
I told my friends that they were making my mom worry for no good reason on christmas and that it was their fault that I had to go home the next morning and make my mom cry. Hahaha. They were surprised to hear the last part of that sentence. I explained to them that while I had been trying to decide whether to speak up or not, I had also been thinking about the opportunity this was presenting me as a son. I planned to tell her the whole story about how my friend didn’t want to leave and that I knew she wouldn’t actually be able to fall asleep. I hated that was true. Nothing positive comes from her worrying at this point.
I don’t want her to worry anymore. It’s been too many years of that bullshit. It can’t be healthy for her. I had to take advantage of an opportunity to help my mom in the long run. Her worrying has always bothered me, but I felt it was time to have a real conversation with her about it. She just needs to start practicing. Her worrying, worries me, and at the end of the day, none of this shit matters. None of these words really matter. Time goes on. We all die. Just be happy we are here now. Some parents need to trust in their parenting, that they raised us not to be total dumbasses. They did a good job, we’re just young still. They were young once too. Sometimes it doesn’t matter what people are told. There are just some things that we have to learn on our own.
My mom has taken care of me my entire life. She will do anything for me, and I owe my parents everything. They’ve raised me. They’ve spent their money and time on me, just to watch me grow up and live my own life. It’s so crazy. I know them so well, these two human people that I refer to as “mom” and “dad” because of societal norms and tradition (good morning, creators). They’re the only two humans in this universe I think I’ve spent more time with than that group of friends. I absolutely know that what I do truly affects my parents, and that concerns me. Cause I don’t even do anything that bad, god!
We finally headed out. On the drive home, my friend kept asking me why my mom would be worried. I told him it didn’t matter. I just wanted her to stop worrying, and I thought that should be a good enough reason for him. However, he kept asking the same question. Finally, I understood the answer he was looking for. I decided to take the time to tell him the real reason why she worries. My mom experienced alcoholism in her family growing up and worries every time I’m around alcohol. She has never even told me how bad it was for her, but I can see how much it affected her. She gets so serious, which is something she rarely does with us now, every time she has to bring it up. Knowing that her family’s genes are part of me prevents her from fully trusting me, no matter what.
My friend understood why she was worrying after I explained it to him. Because I told him the reason. The answer. To his question. The actual answer. The one he was looking for. Even though I thought it shouldn’t have mattered. He just couldn’t understand it. Because he was asking a different question. Like a real one. And I wasn’t giving him a real answer. I said it shouldn’t matter. He took that as a non-serious answer. It was a lazy answer. It was the wrong answer. But then I told him the real answer. They were two different contexts. Do you get it? Do you know what I’m saying?!
Anyways, I finally made it home around 3:30 am. I texted my mom to let her know that I was home and told her I would explain everything in the morning. I then started to write out the core emotional aspects of this story. I wrote about my initial confusion of why she was still worrying about me, the anger that arose once my friend didn’t want to go home, the trust in friendship to even get angry. I wrote about the love for my friends who I’ve had serious conversations with, the worrying I experience from my mom’s worrying, the hope I had when I realized that there was a small opportunity to change her perspective, and the love I felt for my parents for trying so hard to raise me right. These were all the emotions that I thought my mom would be able to connect and relate to. I hoped it would resonate with her.
The next morning I showed her everything I wrote down, and of course she began to cry. I told her she had to stop worrying. That she couldn’t keep doing it. That she HAD to try to stop. She says she can’t help it. She believes that she is unable to change at this point, because she has been worrying about us for so long. I know it’s not easy to change the way one thinks. She tells me it’s impossible. She also doesn’t believe that I will convince my dad to become more liberal (just wait for the next article, BRUCE).
As I said in “lil boodro’s thoughts: vol. 1: the election”, life is hard, and my mom has undoubtedly experienced harder parts than me. However, it seems as though the hard parts of life are the ones we most often keep to ourselves. It makes it harder to understand why people are a certain way because the difficult experiences are the ones that consistently shape and form us. It’s impossible to tell anyone actually everything, so it’s rare for a person to know every hard part of someone’s life. Actually, it’s rare for a person to know any part of any person’s life, especially if you look at it on a percentage basis between the people you know and the world population. So next time someone asks why, try to give them the real answer, to help eliminate future miscommunications, and add to that subset of language.
In life, we are continually choosing the subjects we’ll have conversations about. Overall, I think we should have more in depth human conversation with those inside and outside of our close friend groups. Don’t get me wrong, I love bullshitting and being goofy just as much as the next person who loves bullshitting and being goofy. We definitely need to give our brains a break sometimes. However, I think we should all try harder to actually explain our feelings. I truly believe it will help solve many of our differences.
Hold up tho. Let’s not forget the balance that’s needed in all aspects of life. The whole explaining our emotions and opening up thing can be a slippery slope. You could say that many people are too emotional already, and that may be true (except it’s all relative). However, more people are becoming what I like to call “haters” on everything. Our criticism and inability to see why someone has said or done something, is what I call hating. Haters, please, tell me why you’re always hating? YG asks himself staring pensively out of a moist, morning sun warmed window in his big ass house located in compton california. This negativity towards expression and creativity can cause people to be self conscious of their emotions. That’s that bullshit.
My biggest takeaway from christmas night 2016 was the overwhelming feeling of responsibility to try to make my parent’s lives better. Unfortunately, I can’t take care of them financially yet. I still look forward to delicious, scrumptious, but most importantly free food when I visit home. However, I believe that it’s everyone’s duties, as “sons” and “daughters” of two other humans, to teach, or rather, remind our parents about life without the responsibility of children as soon as possible. I want to remind them of their youth. I want them to worry more about themselves again. I want them to focus on what makes them happier. Finally, I want them to be genuinely excited about their continual growth as individual human beings.
We wrap ourselves up in a lot of bullshit. It’s distracting. I think many parents and older humans believe that they are who they are. Many truly believe that it’s almost impossible to change. However, I think they definitely can if they want to. They just need to remember how easy it was to change in their youth. Learning how to experience life in a better way is constant adaptation. I told my friends that night, that every moment that I live from now on is the happiest moment of my life. You may think that’s bullshit, or that I’m trying to sell you on a lifestyle or some shit. I’m not tho. I’m just telling you how I feel. I’m just happy to be here, sitting behind this computer, all comfortable and shit, typing away on my nice ass macbook. I’ve got it too good. You may not believe me, but I believe me, and at the end of the day, it’s all fucking relative. Thanks for reading.
P.S. HAPPY BIRTHDAY MADRE!!!