i'm running away from home, but my parents will pay my credit card bill

The reasons why I love my parents, why I prefer them to any others, have become the reasons why I am running away from home tonight. Well, I am sitting in the dorms right now, waiting for my laundry to get done, but when I go home this Sunday, I am going to turn right back around and run towards Glen Rock. My parents want me to have fun and not worry about money. It infuriates me.

I was on the phone with my mother a few minutes ago, and we began to talk about summer plans. I mentioned one of my very close friends decided against a certain program that cost money to volunteer; my mother thought that should have never even been a consideration, for students are already giving their time, and should not have to also give their money. While I whole-heartedly agreed with her, and have always thought that paying money to volunteer was a luxury, I mentioned that I was doing the same thing for my Global Outreach trip. She said it was entirely different because I was going on the trip mainly for fun, adding that my father wanted to get me a better camera so I could take pictures, since my trip would be very "scenic." I told her, for the nth time, that this trip was not all fun and games, and that, while I was looking forward to gaining a new community of friends, that this wasn't simply a hippie road trip with my closest friends to celebrate graduation. She remained silent, and then asked why I don't do Habitat for Humanity in Paterson and then go to Spain for the rest of the month, to finally embrace my dream of spending time aimlessly in Europe. I paused, and told her that besides that issue, I was also extremely stressed about gathering funds for the trip.

She laughed.

I emphasized that I thought I would be able to gather much more money, but the only thing anyone was doing was to send letters for donations. I then hinted that I had no one to send letters to, alluding to the fact that my parents completely rejected the idea of my sending requests for donations to anyone. It is an Indian pride issue, which I have never really understood. We can't ask for money from anyone. Yes, Indians can count very well, and I am sure the numbers are crunching in everyone's minds, but we won't ever ask for money. My mother continued to giggle, acknowledging that I had sent out about 3 letters (2 of which I did in secret for fear of her tampering with the mail).

The funny thing is, my parents are extremely generous, compassionate, and very liberally donate their money to all sorts of charities and fundraisers. In this specific case, they are willing to fund my western rural poverty antics. However, I decided that this project would be my own; I wanted to take complete control of it. I didn't want my parents to just fund what they thought was a post-graduation, peripherally service-oriented trip focusing on cowboys and mountains. I wanted to be independent, raising enough money on my own to completely take charge of myself on this trip.

She continued to laugh. I knew what she was thinking--why start now?

My family has always been very communist about our money; there is no concept of ownership with our money. Mine (which is none) is my mother's is my father's is my sister's (which is surprisingly a small fortune.) This time, I wanted the trip to be funded by the capitalist version of myself.

I told my mother I had decided on many ventures to raise the funds, ventures that failed before they even came to fruition.

I thought about writing papers for people, guaranteeing A's for $50. But, I haven't been writing my own papers; I have barely read a thing since Spring Break, and should probably guarantee a passing grade for myself before raising everyone else's GPA for $50.

I thought I would vacuum people's apartments for $20. But, my own apartment remains completely filthy, and I decided that I should probably attack the monsters under our couch, first.

I thought I would tutor people in French, teach Bollywood workshops, thread people's eyebrows. And then I realized I am barely articulate in French, no one cares to pay to learn Bollywood dancing as long as they can pet the dog and screw the light bulb, and my own eyebrows need tending to.

I thought I would cook for people, and even bring them food to their rooms. I have not eaten a hot meal in 3 days. I am still wondering whether or not people would pay for me to pour milk in their cereal.

My mother continued to laugh. She told me I shouldn't worry; I would definitely make the $800 in 3 weeks. Between her chuckles, I could make out the words "resourceful" and "busy" and "youth." I appreciated the essence of what she was saying, but I was still mad that I was so crippled, that I had such generous and supportive parents. Then she told me to have a good night, and not forget my allergy medicine.

This Sunday, I am going to give my parents the silent treatment. That's what they get for paying for things and forcing me to have fun.