(Troubadour Mom is the loudest one in the audience telling the drivers to "Turn, turn, TURN!" at the end. I love her.)
Keep in mind that, because of his work hours and cultural conditioning, Troubadour Dad didn't really play with us when we were kids (aside from the occasional Monopoly game, during which he would clean us out so thoroughly that we weren't inclined to ask him to play again anytime soon). So introducing our dad to the Wii as a bonding tool has been kind of momentous.
While we were visiting, my sisters and I also pulled out some ancient home videos from our childhood. I used to be embarrassed to see myself on tape (unlike my sisters, I was not a cute kid when I knew the camera was rolling -- more like awkward). While I was being filmed, I was always afraid I'd be corrected or chastised, which happened enough to make me dread the camera's awful record-keeping power -- and fear the obligation to perform at all, wherever and whenever I might be judged, on video or otherwise. But instead of being openly fearful or shy, I'd try to cover up my discomfort with silly faces and voices, things that invited correction.
And so, the vicious cycle began, until I learned how to avoid situations that demanded performance. Well, no, that's actually not true. I enjoy teaching, which is a fairly performative job, if you want to engage your students. It's certain kinds of audiences I avoid, ones where I'm clearly at a hierarchical disadvantage. Perhaps this is why it is so hard to spend time with Troubadour Dad even now that I'm an adult. I can't really be myself around him because he is so judgmental in certain ways, and as much as I want to believe his judgment shouldn't matter, it still does to the little girl in me who just wants to be accepted.
Part of me still cringes a little when I see myself on those old videos, but it's because I can see now what I was really feeling. I think these last few months of thinking and writing about childhood have let me understand that. As I think about those tapes, I no longer hear the voice that tells me I should have acted differently -- just the voice of the child asking her parents, as best she could, to put the camera away.
4 comments:
Awkward on camera over here, too!!! I also cannot stand to hear my voice recorded--cringe!
My voice always sounds way deeper than I expect it to. If I didn't already know I was the person speaking, I'm sure I'd wonder who the guy in the background was! (There is, legitimately, a guy in the background of this video, though: D.)
Such a funny video CT. I laughed out loud at the enthusiastic spectator involvement with the Kart.
As I read about your discomfort about Troubadour Dad, I started to wonder if find it hard to write honestly in the work you're doing. Do you feel as if family members are looking over your shoulder? I often feel as if my need to people please is one of the things that keeps me from writing well.
I'm actually not as uncomfortable writing, believe it or not, GEW :). I think part of that is because Troubadour Dad, who is the one person who can drive me absolutely nuts by looking over my shoulder in other parts of my life, does not read my work. I've never offered it; he's never asked. If I'm lucky enough to get my work published someday, it'll be under a pseudonym to protect us from each other more than anything else.
My sisters and mother have read my writing. And even if they don't always agree with what I write, they're all right with my doing the writing. So I don't feel like they're looking over my shoulder. They've been quite supportive, in fact. They're very kind that way.
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