Done, done, done! Yeah! Essay done. Now, I’ve got to catch up on readings, assignments, and not to mention review notes for midterms coming up. But for now, I’m just lying down for a few more minutes listening to my fav song at the mo.

Robin Thicke – I need Love.

This is by no means to initiate an argument about whether or not he was mentally capable or incapable. This is just to give an insight into his troubled life. And to show how far I’ve come on my essay! Yea, I just have two hundred more words to fill although my problem now is trying to fit it all in two hundred words.

Uggh. I didn’t have a great weekend. It went so fast, I barely saw it come or go. I had a plan and right when I realized I wouldn’t get my essay done in the time I wanted, the plan went out the door. Needless to say, I’m behind on reading, on assignments, and especially on my youtube stuff.

My favorite part of my essay.

According to Eysenck, certain personality features which are inherited can lead to anti-social behaviour depending on the various interactions an individual has. He suggested that characteristics of the nervous system can affect an individual’s response to discipline which can lead to a lack of behavioural control. Eysenck made sure that his theory did not “suggest that environmental influences cannot also be very… important” (Crime and Personality, 1977) but emphasizes that along with biological factors, “the very notion of criminality or crime would be meaningless without a context of learning or social” (Crime and Personality, 1977) Applying this aspect, it is clear that Bundy’s childhood may have foreshadowed his future adventures. From the beginning, Bundy’s life circumstances were not of the norm; he was born Theodore Robert Cowell on November 24, 1946 to a mother who abandoned him for three months until she was ready to accept him in her life again. Bundy was raised thinking that his grandparents were his parents and that his own mother was his older sister, Louise; this evidently created an already distant relationship between real mother and child but also exemplifying that Bundy did not have either a conventional family or a usual childhood. Bundy did, however, form a strong relationship with his grandfather, James Cowell, who he respected and adored. Unfortunately, for Bundy, Cowell was not the type of role model any child should learn from or inspire to be. Bundy stated that his grandfather was a racist who “hated blacks, Italians, Catholics, and Jews”, was “sadistic with animals”, “kept a large collection of pornography” and often “sent his family scattering” with his “temper” (Stranger Beside Me). Having to witness many of the abuse but still remembering his grandfather as a “Santa-Clause kind of grandfather” demonstrates that in order to have survived in that household, Bundy may very likely have become emotionally detached; it is not implausible to think that given the environment Bundy grew up in, his conscience died in his youth and a significant portion of him was psychologically disconnected before he was five years old. (Rule, 1989) For Bundy, who was, quite possibly, mentally disturbed early on, which can be observed when his aunt recalled a time where she “awakened from a nap to find that her body was surrounded by knives” and “looked up to see her three-year-old nephew”, his childhood did not stir him from mental corruption but rather amplified his interest in dishonest behaviour and secured his position as a future psychopath. =)

I don’t have a very good relationship with God -

Actually, scratch that, I don’t have a relationship with God. Not that I prefer not to have one, but for some reason still unknown to me, I can’t bring myself to give in to a higher being. Along with the skeptism in me, I sort of feel it was my mom’s fault for not encouraging me. At the same time, I understand that I am an adult now and should be able to make my own decisions. The only problem is I don’t even know what the options are.

Having come from a mother who is born Catholic and a father who is born Buddhist, I’m not exactly sure where I stand.

Merry Christmas!

So this was it.

This was what I was going to inherit. This being. This sleeping being. The house. His house.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I had to take a step back and register the week’s events. Amazing to think that one chance, one opportunity could have such a significant impact. That with one small cause, the effect could be so damaging.

One minute I breathed, ate, and dreamt words; my passion for writing together with my high degree of admiration for the English language drove me study journalism. But, selfish perception changed and transformed into self degradation when I received the call. Instantly, I wondered if all these years, I was really doing a favour by keeping away or was I in reality, shunning myself out for my own personal reasons; shunning myself to prevent the pain, prevent the hurt, prevent the promises. Again, it wasn’t time to dwell on the past.

I needed to see him now. See how he was doing; how he was coping; how he was living.

And yet, I was afraid. Afraid of what he thought of me. Did he think I had become like my mother? Was he aware that my relationship with my father deteriorated after his fourth marriage? Did he think of me often? Did he miss me? I miss him…

Swallowing a lump and then another in my throat, I grabbed the knob for support. Whatever past lay between us, it was not the time to awake them; there would be time later. Actually… I wasn’t certain there was even time to pursue those memories. All I knew was my need to see him.

Did he still use his trademark Calvin Klein cologne? Is Hilfiger still his favorite brand? Does he still love Thai cuisine? Or had things changed within these four years?

Pulsing through my mind for days now, I ridiculously wondered…
Would he remember me?

Would my grandfather remember me?