Dinner
rArAr and I organized a post-birthday dinner for LF last night, back at Lemon Grass at Village Centre. We tried to have a little surprise for her (which would be more of a surprise if there was no surprise) and I got a surprise myself instead.
I sms-ed rArAr to buy a ‘mini’ cake, thinking of a small cake, perhaps a slice of it.
She happily bought a cake that is smaller than usual, but still enough to feed 8 people. haha…
Anyways, it was a good dinner out. The food was nice as usual. The glass noodle was so nice, we had a 2nd serving (I didn’t know there was a mini cake mah…) and the dry curry chicken was also tasty. We also had mixed vegetable, which was OK, and steamed egg tofu, which was also ok.
Anyways, we talked about possible plans for a SEA backpacking. Even before we got started real, I asked rArAr the BIG question: Your mum will allow you meh?
Apparently, her mum even disapproves of taking budget airlines…
That was her opinion lah, which I think should be quite normal. Just a few other stuff which irks me.
Actually, there are a lot of funny parents out there (which makes such atrocious phenomenon quite common), that they tend to see their kids as kids.
I mean, if I were to be a parent myself, I will really see my kid as a kid, but not as a kid kid when he is an adult le.
Some parents were so obsessive over their adult kids, as though the kids won’t be able to survive under their constant supervision. But the fact that the kid survived into an adult just meant that he is able to take care of himself. Getting robbed in a foreign country? That’s just part of growing up. Don’t tell me the kids didn’t get bullied in school when they were younger.
There’s also this myth that other countries are much unsafe than Singapore. But that doesn’t mean that we should stay here for all our lives. What’s the use of living a long monotonous life in Singapore, when we can maybe have a shorter, but more meaningful life? Human beings are born to explore the earth, and we should not hinder such acts.
Whatever.
Some parents just believe that they know the best for their kids when all they did were to stifle them under their constant care.
And then, after the dinner, some time into the night, rArAr told me about how her bf opposed to lying to her mum.
haha…
I expected said bf to be morally upright, but not to the extent of morally rigid.
This, I can’t really comment. I grew up in an environment where ethics were not apparent. As long as I survived, it doesn’t matter what I did.
The only considerations for not resorting to robbing the bank or something like that when we were poor was that it was a plain stupid idea. Why risk going to jail and suffer when I can resort to other means to survive? If there was no jail term or corporal punishment for robbing, I would definitely have done that.
Heck the glares of other people.
I observed that people who have an atrociously rigid moral spirit tend to be people from very good families. You know, they grew up comfortably, that their needs and desires are usually satisfied easily. Toys, gadgets, new textbooks etc. They never had to apply moral values in practice under severe circumstances that they tend to have an idealized view for ethics.
Some (and most prob from the above-mentioned group of people) may say, it’s just toys! How will the lack of it drive someone to consider moral values, and in turn, abandon moral values?
But for a kid, having toys to play with is something like a basic need to feed their curiosity and stuff like that. Add on to the fact that 90% of his peers have toys, won’t the pressure of the lack of toys be pressing?
I can’t really argue about such things. It’s just like arguing the existence of God with Christians. Each camp has a different kind of life experience that leads to different arguments, ie we are arguing on different grounds.
But somehow, I really believe that ethics are just a form of idealized set of rules set by those in the comfort zone. Think the developed countries asking the developing countries to cut down on carbon emissions and sacrificing growth.
