After going Mr. Robot on my Indian family today, I’ve come back with sad news: my roomlord is a Trump supporter. I thought this man was ironically supporting Trump, but it turns out you can’t really do that. It’s not a thing. If you support Trump, it’s not ironic – you’re just an asshole. And so, it is with a heavy heart that I will no longer go on this man’s Walmart runs. Sorry roomlord. You’ve greatly disappointed me and my war-torn immigrant family. I don’t care how rich you are. I don’t care that me and Sad Gal Riri are broke twentysomethings living in a two million dollar-valued house. I will always be for the underdogs.
I emailed Nims with a list of observations about my family and asked her to please explain these Desi cultural and societal dynamics I’m recognizing, but not completely understanding. The response she wrote made me laugh for the entirety of my 10-minute break at work. I think most people in my position would’ve been like, yeah, I’m here and they’re there, whatever. But I’m like, “Okay, so roomlord does this and this, and roomlord’s wife does this and this, and they have so and so kids, and roomlord’s wife left a note for one of the kids on the fridge talking about ‘Yogurt Rice dinners’ for an entire week, and what does this and this, and all of that, mean?”
I came back home and immediately told Riri all the new things I learned. She called her boyfriend and immediately told him, too. We all “What The Fuck” at the Trump thing together. It’s fun trying to figure this family out. I’m starting to think they were really wealthy in India, moved to California to pursue a more liberated life, and are just taking pity on me and Riri whilst we pay off a chunk of their mortgage and live like the feeble young people we are. I think they still have time to come around to… you know… not supporting Trump…
I failed at not spending this month. Even if I’m treating myself so much less, every treat feels like a backspace. I’ll take not spending more seriously in October because I’ll be taking everything more seriously in October. It’s October – my favorite month. And it’ll have been 11 months since grandma died. And it’ll be the last month before it’s been a whole year. I need to have something to prove I have made the most of this year because I am ever more aware of days passing.
A STOR¥ BY ? 