Question Existing

Somewhere in the City of Angels, there's a part of the family that I rarely talk about. Well, almost never.

No, not because I'm ashamed. Few Mrs Rochesters locked up in the attic for sure. Far from being deranged oddities not fit to be seen outside of an asylum ( those are my nutty cousins from my dad's side up north! ), they are actually regular average joes.

Sure the two might be the bastard children of my maternal uncle's unsanctioned second 'marriage' but hey, who's counting the occasional illegitimacy. Serves for interesting family dynamics.

But eh, they couldn't be worse than the children from the first marriage - the spineless samaritan and the snake-oil salesman. Long backstory there that would only raise my blood pressure if I were to recount their numerous failings from unfilial piety to financial irresponsibility. No matter truthfully ( no water off my back ) if only their problems hadn't served to inconvenience us.

Again and again.


Certainly not close enough for a family huddle yet...
But I've never actually gotten close to the candystriper and the coach - yes, I describe them as such since it would be nigh impossible to recall their true Thai names, long as they are. And yes, I do have an embarassing habit of making up nicknames for most everyone I meet.

Reason I never got close to the candystriper and the coach is a serious lack of communication. At best, we converse using a rojak mixture of garbled English, babbled Chinese - and sign language mostly! Not exactly conducive. Makes it hard to cement cousinly bonds when we can barely understand each other.

The last time I spent half a day trolling the stores in Chatuchak with my younger cousin - the shy teenage boy named Coach who was then still training as a teacher - and all we talked about were bargaining tactics with the shopkeepers. Then again, maybe the boy was deathly-afraid since I was flirting shamelessly with the cuter male shopkeepers, giving them suggestive looks all the while. But Coach remained bashful throughout, stumbling through the halting conversation with his charmingly accented English.

Maybe I should have tried harder. A pity I didn't - especially for a guy like me who stresses so much importance on family relations. So I sent him an email today. Which left me worried after a while. Seeing as half of my readers don't understand my gobbledygook, I wonder if he actually managed to finish even half the mail. :)

Hope he doesn't accidentally misinterpret it as an incestuous come-on.