conversations | with my parents | again

obedienceSo in the spirt of trying to make my parents happy or maybe just trying to play smart, I enrolled in GMAT review classes. My parents, who will pay for pretty much anything having to do with school, paid for these classes. But after a while, I got kinda bored. I dont like math and the teacher was kinda mean (he called me an emotional tester). I didn’t really study and quite honestly, I just couldn’t convince myself that I cared. This may have something to do with finding out the application deadline was in May and not November (how could I confuse those two?) or perhaps it was because I just didn’t care. So whatever. I changed my goal, stopped going, and did what I do best – wasted my parents money.

Having done this and feeling slightly guilty, I decided that I should tell them. They suffered a loss and they should know. For the most part, I tell them everything but only because they don’t ever think I’m serious. For instance, I tell them almost on a weekly basis that I’m getting a tattoo and that they can’t stop me. They haha but I’m the one who is really haha’ing with two of them. So anyway, I’m having dinner with them and Charlene is there. They’re already mad at something I’ve already said and we’re all silent and I’m uncomfortable. So I break the silence.

Diana: So…I’ve been thinking. Mayber, perhaps, I won’t go to Business School. Maybe, perhaps.

Now my dad is sitting directly across from and he stops eating and looks at me.

Diana: Maybe I’ll go get my MFA or something. Lit degree. I don’t know.
Mom: I’m so sick of you already.
Diana: Because I waste your money?
Mom: No, I’m just sick of you. And do whatever you want. I’m not paying for it anymore.
Diana: It’s not a waste. I can utilize what I’ve learned on another test.
Dad: And what are you going to do with this degree?
Diana: Oh, I don’t know. Maybe teach? Write a book? Tutor little kids?
Dad: We talked about this already. You don’t have to go to school to be a writer.
Diana: Yeah, you know.. I don’t think Business School is for me. I kinda just want you to pay money so that I can read. Why don’t you understand me?
Dad: Do you know the economy right now? Where will you teach? They’re cutting budgets.. (blah, blah, making sense, blah, blah).
Diana: Right. You’re right. So what you’re saying here is that I have to go Business School. I was born for it.
Dad: Yes.
Diana: Right. Great. I’m so excited. This is great news. I can’t wait.

This is the problem with people – they don’t learn from their mistakes. Because the last time I decided to go to Business School, I ended up getting a Liberal Arts degree. At a business school rate.


1 Comment

Filed under ass | face

One response to “conversations | with my parents | again

  1. dick

    parents aren’t for everyone.

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