It just occurred to me that I am more upset over the death of Patrick Swayze... (and Michael Jackson and Natasha Richardson) than over my own grandfather. Who produced my mother. Who produced me. What the heck?
Family has always come in a stark second in my life (if that even...) and I don't know whether it's because I grew up away from the extended family and therefore they just didn't figure in my life and therefore are "not important". I totally think that one's value system is built upon how one was brought up... and that's the only reasonable explanation I can think of. Bizarro.
I'm such a terrible child. I'd be better off as a piece of char siu... Oh well.
God bless.
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