I only have one ninang, and when I was younger, it pissed me off to no end. In a culture where godparents are Santa Clauses all year round, not having at least a pair is a serious handicap come gift-haul seasons. Now, you'd think that with only one godparent, I'd be particularly close and clingy to my ninang. But as it turns out, I am unable to find a common ground with my godmother.
Which is really kind of disappointing. Ever since I watched Harry Potter and the Order of the Pheonix, I sort of fell in love with the idea of having a godparent, granted that they were as cool as Sirius Black. Who wouldn't want to have Gary Oldman as your alternative old man?
Aside from the occasional hi and hello on FB, I basically don't have a relationship with my ninang. The last time she came to visit, I was struck with the realization that we're just like oil and water. We can't/won't/shouldn't/don't mix. Our personalities our polar opposites - I'm droll and melancholic, she's a wee bit bossy and extroverted. She drinks beer, I don't. She gives me blouses, towels and bible verses when I'm a blatant bookworm to the core.
She doesn't know these things because we barely talk anyways. We run out of conversation fodder to sustain our talks. This is how our latest conversation went, the last time she was here:
Her: How are you?
Me: I'm fine.
Her: Are you working?
Me: Yes. I work at so-and-so as a so-and-so.
Her: Mmmm.
Me: Mmmm.
...
And that's basically it.
To be honest? Since she's supposed to be my second mother, I wish my ninang would take the time to know me. Understand my passion for books, writing and anime. To not see everything I do as a mistake, to not see my career choice as something that can always be improved on with suggestions to work at a call center.
Realizing this, I now understand that just because my family knows someone or someone knows my family, it does not mean that I'm obligated to believe everything they say or do. I can disagree with their thoughts and ideas. I can measure them against my own standard, quirky as they may seem, and that it's alright to do so. That I am entitled to have an opinion of them. Most important of all, (and I cannot stress how important this is), I don't have to like them. I am not required to like them. Respect is, after all, still earned and not given.
That it is OK to find one's family less than perfect - aunts can be snobbish and self-righteous, cousins can be pests, mothers can be stifling. That you won't get struck by lighting for thinking about these things.
It's quite liberating, really.
Which is really kind of disappointing. Ever since I watched Harry Potter and the Order of the Pheonix, I sort of fell in love with the idea of having a godparent, granted that they were as cool as Sirius Black. Who wouldn't want to have Gary Oldman as your alternative old man?
Aside from the occasional hi and hello on FB, I basically don't have a relationship with my ninang. The last time she came to visit, I was struck with the realization that we're just like oil and water. We can't/won't/shouldn't/don't mix. Our personalities our polar opposites - I'm droll and melancholic, she's a wee bit bossy and extroverted. She drinks beer, I don't. She gives me blouses, towels and bible verses when I'm a blatant bookworm to the core.
She doesn't know these things because we barely talk anyways. We run out of conversation fodder to sustain our talks. This is how our latest conversation went, the last time she was here:
Her: How are you?
Me: I'm fine.
Her: Are you working?
Me: Yes. I work at so-and-so as a so-and-so.
Her: Mmmm.
Me: Mmmm.
...
And that's basically it.
To be honest? Since she's supposed to be my second mother, I wish my ninang would take the time to know me. Understand my passion for books, writing and anime. To not see everything I do as a mistake, to not see my career choice as something that can always be improved on with suggestions to work at a call center.
Realizing this, I now understand that just because my family knows someone or someone knows my family, it does not mean that I'm obligated to believe everything they say or do. I can disagree with their thoughts and ideas. I can measure them against my own standard, quirky as they may seem, and that it's alright to do so. That I am entitled to have an opinion of them. Most important of all, (and I cannot stress how important this is), I don't have to like them. I am not required to like them. Respect is, after all, still earned and not given.
That it is OK to find one's family less than perfect - aunts can be snobbish and self-righteous, cousins can be pests, mothers can be stifling. That you won't get struck by lighting for thinking about these things.
It's quite liberating, really.
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