Yeah, yeah, it's a cute video. Oooooh, loooook, it's got a cartoon cat. BIG DEAL. Paula Abdul, despite the fact that your song came out after I was born, and despite the fact that you didn't actually coin the phrase or develop the theory of "opposites attract," I'm going to go ahead and blame you for my mental issues.
You made it all seem so magical. One likes it neat, one makes a mess. One takes it easy, one gets all obsessed. When you, the hot cheerleader, and rogue-ish anima-cat get together, though, oh, you just have NOTHING but fun. Wheeeeeee.
But what if... what IF... instead of a hot cheerleader and a rogue-ish, suspendered cat, you were a hyper-logical yet anxious Indian woman and the cat were a colorful, knavish Indian man?
Do you still take things seriously? Yes. Does he still take them light(ly)? Yes. Do you still go to bed early? You betcha. Does he still party all night? OH yeah. So far so good. But Paula, dearie, you didn't tell us the whole story.
What happens when these opposites combine forces in the form of a CHILD?
I'm not going to cause family drama by calling one parent an angel and the other a devil, but suffice to say my parents are opposing forces. My dad is charming, he's quick-witted. He's a storyteller. He's confident to the point of delusion (almost), taking risks without thinking of a Plan B or even Plan A-and-a-half. My mother doesn't do anything without blueprinting Plans B-Z. She is annoyingly intelligent, naively honest, and hasn't quite grasped the concept of sarcasm. My mom will buy a new gizmo, read and annotate the instruction manual, and have the gizmo working correctly the first time she switches it on. At the first sign of trouble, she will take the whole day off to call customer support and nurse the gadget back to health -- but not before letting us all know (WHILE CRYING) that she has taken the whole day off to call customer support and nurse the gadget back to health, meaning she will get in trouble at work, maybe lose her job, maybe have to move to a different state and take a new license exam, maybe have to tap into her savings account. My dad will either (a) dump everything out of the box and fumble with the wires the whole day, yelling at them and threatening them until they decide to connect properly in fear of losing their wives and children or (b) charm the salesperson at the store to come to our house, hook up the gizmo for free, and give us a free warranty and upgrade. "Haha! Oh, those Natarajs and their antics!" Sure. But try living with both of them in your brain.
It could be a match made in heaven! Fun AND organized?? Creative AND logical? I've hit the SAT jackpot! But, alas. 'Twas not to be.
The Dad side of my brain tells me to focus on having fun, to take things lightly, to keep 'em laughing. The Mom side of my brain tells me to focus on making smart decisions, to take every decision seriously, to not make everything into a joke. The end result is basically a split personality. I seem happy-go-lucky and somewhat fun. (Yes, yes, keyword: somewhat ... You're SOOOO funny. Kick rocks.) Then I come home and worry for an hour about why I said half of the things I said and think about how I can fix my image. I call and leave breezy voicemails, but then I panic and leave five more to make sure my first message wasn't taken the wrong way. I create a logical plan of action, and then on a whim, I do the exact opposite and ruin everything.
As my parents duke it out in the inner recesses of my mind, I sit paralyzed. I want to sit at home and allow my depression to wash over me, but then when I am forced to go out, I overdo it and chatter to the point of being obnoxious, only to come home and feel like a total moron who should be banned from all gatherings involving more than two people. So instead of being both fun AND organized, I'm EITHER fun OR organized. Instead of being creative AND logical, I'm creative enough to come up with something humorous, and later, I become logical enough to realize that what I said wasn't funny. You might say that I take... two steps forward... and then I take two steps... back.
Side effects include dizziness, nausea, paranoia, and serious issues with self-doubt.
I supported you, Paula. I created an embarrassing dance routine to "Straight Up." I put "Cold-Hearted Snake" on my list of possible karaoke tunes. I even forgave you for "Rush Rush." But now, thanks to you and that damn cat, opposites that should never come together are producing generations of dual-personality freaks.
Let's hope they don't start engaging in bestiality, too.
You made it all seem so magical. One likes it neat, one makes a mess. One takes it easy, one gets all obsessed. When you, the hot cheerleader, and rogue-ish anima-cat get together, though, oh, you just have NOTHING but fun. Wheeeeeee.
But what if... what IF... instead of a hot cheerleader and a rogue-ish, suspendered cat, you were a hyper-logical yet anxious Indian woman and the cat were a colorful, knavish Indian man?
Do you still take things seriously? Yes. Does he still take them light(ly)? Yes. Do you still go to bed early? You betcha. Does he still party all night? OH yeah. So far so good. But Paula, dearie, you didn't tell us the whole story.
What happens when these opposites combine forces in the form of a CHILD?
I'm not going to cause family drama by calling one parent an angel and the other a devil, but suffice to say my parents are opposing forces. My dad is charming, he's quick-witted. He's a storyteller. He's confident to the point of delusion (almost), taking risks without thinking of a Plan B or even Plan A-and-a-half. My mother doesn't do anything without blueprinting Plans B-Z. She is annoyingly intelligent, naively honest, and hasn't quite grasped the concept of sarcasm. My mom will buy a new gizmo, read and annotate the instruction manual, and have the gizmo working correctly the first time she switches it on. At the first sign of trouble, she will take the whole day off to call customer support and nurse the gadget back to health -- but not before letting us all know (WHILE CRYING) that she has taken the whole day off to call customer support and nurse the gadget back to health, meaning she will get in trouble at work, maybe lose her job, maybe have to move to a different state and take a new license exam, maybe have to tap into her savings account. My dad will either (a) dump everything out of the box and fumble with the wires the whole day, yelling at them and threatening them until they decide to connect properly in fear of losing their wives and children or (b) charm the salesperson at the store to come to our house, hook up the gizmo for free, and give us a free warranty and upgrade. "Haha! Oh, those Natarajs and their antics!" Sure. But try living with both of them in your brain.
It could be a match made in heaven! Fun AND organized?? Creative AND logical? I've hit the SAT jackpot! But, alas. 'Twas not to be.
The Dad side of my brain tells me to focus on having fun, to take things lightly, to keep 'em laughing. The Mom side of my brain tells me to focus on making smart decisions, to take every decision seriously, to not make everything into a joke. The end result is basically a split personality. I seem happy-go-lucky and somewhat fun. (Yes, yes, keyword: somewhat ... You're SOOOO funny. Kick rocks.) Then I come home and worry for an hour about why I said half of the things I said and think about how I can fix my image. I call and leave breezy voicemails, but then I panic and leave five more to make sure my first message wasn't taken the wrong way. I create a logical plan of action, and then on a whim, I do the exact opposite and ruin everything.
As my parents duke it out in the inner recesses of my mind, I sit paralyzed. I want to sit at home and allow my depression to wash over me, but then when I am forced to go out, I overdo it and chatter to the point of being obnoxious, only to come home and feel like a total moron who should be banned from all gatherings involving more than two people. So instead of being both fun AND organized, I'm EITHER fun OR organized. Instead of being creative AND logical, I'm creative enough to come up with something humorous, and later, I become logical enough to realize that what I said wasn't funny. You might say that I take... two steps forward... and then I take two steps... back.
Side effects include dizziness, nausea, paranoia, and serious issues with self-doubt.
I supported you, Paula. I created an embarrassing dance routine to "Straight Up." I put "Cold-Hearted Snake" on my list of possible karaoke tunes. I even forgave you for "Rush Rush." But now, thanks to you and that damn cat, opposites that should never come together are producing generations of dual-personality freaks.
Let's hope they don't start engaging in bestiality, too.
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