lil ms picky.

dear shadow,


I managed to finish sewing the zips on both the cushions we were working on. i did the measuring and cutting. dad did the round sewing parts and i did the zips! and it is far from perfect. and i went crazy along the way. i took all the stitches off and re-did them because they were not straight enough for me.


my dad asked me why i was taking them off and when i told him why, he just stood there. in disbelief. he grabbed it, looked at it and said it was just fine! so yea. but i simply NEED to make it straight right? so i sat down and unpicked every single stitch. and restitched it. . . .


and you know what my dad said, he said i'm too picky. so i corrected him and said i want it to "be nice and pretty and perfect." and then there was silence. then after hammering away on the keyboard, he said that its his fault that i'm so "picky".


what? your fault? which part?


turns out that when i was young, i was a very keen observer. and i used to observe the way he did things. and followed everything exactly. and he used to work at NIGHT. he'd come to my room to kiss me goodnight long after i slept. but if he ever coughed or cleared his throat, i'd wake up and ask him to give me spelling quizzes while he was doing all the wiring stuff. i also picked up the reading habit from him. i read under the dining table and kept a secret stash of my favourite books there along with my motor city cars, big bird, ernie and my crayon box cuz i loved being in my own world and amusing myself... he thought it was cute that i did all these things. but now its not cute anymore. being too picky is not good for me. noooo. its not. :(


i've to change it cuz its baaaad for me. and i feel more horrible now when i realise that he blames himself if i have a bad habit. like if i'm addicted to root beer, its because he's addicted to coffee. and if i get insect bites all over, its because he gave me eczema and my sensitive skin makes everything worse. gosh. why do parents think in strange ways? i think having a child has to be quite traumatic. it causes women to have postpartum depression and men to have some sort of extended baby blues. and then they blame themselves for every damn thing. i feel like a meanie.


lets see what i inherited from my mom....ohh. yes. i whine. size 5 feet. I type like her. have little respect for authority. and i like to traverse the length and breadth of stationery stores... hmmmm.


i'm happy i read under the dining table. and i shall learn to appreciate not so straight stitches.