Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Apparently something about Wendy coming in and coming up to my room and saying that she was stopping by just to see my finally perked my father's ears.
My mom told him that she was helping me pack.
He asked "for what"
She told him "seattle. She's going for two weeks."
He said "what about work?"
She told him "She quit three weeks ago"

when I came down he had that look on his face. The one that's just seconds away from an abuse rant. The kind I used to hide from.
he said "you know, you need to keep me UPDATED. I didn't know you quit. I didn't know you were going anywhere. Your mother doesn't tell me anything."
I just muttered a sorry.

What I wanted to say was...
"well, you never ask. If you showed the slightest amount of interest, you wouldn't have to ask. You'd know. Because I'd tell you. If you talked to me about anything other than what YOU do at work or about YOUR opinions on what's filtering through the glass tit at you then perhaps you might know *something* about me. There was a time when your inattention was a godsend. When you not paying any attention meant that I could actually BREATH that day. But now... and for the last several years... heh...
You've lost me. You don't know me anymore. You're looking at a fucking stranger. I've been a stranger for many years. Becuase you stopped bothering. And ya know.. I'm grateful. It's meant that I can do what I need to do without your bullshit advice or "guidance". But it's also meant that I live with someone who's less than a roomate. Becuase at least I talk to my roomates when I pass them in the hall. When it comes right down to it, you don't NEED to know anything. So you don't. And since you only very occasionally lift your head up and look around you long enough to notice my presence I don't think that this has been exactly nagging on you. I'd tell you to fuck off, but it's a little late for that."

Or something like that.



( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Oct. 19th, 2001 01:52 am (UTC)
I feel you, "less than a roomate" sounds a lot like my relationship with my dad. I find myself just taking the "I'm sorry" route also, whenever he scolds me for not informing him enough as to what I'm doing...I pretty much know what he's doin, my dad gets drunk and passes out in front of the western movie channel every day...
The only thing we talk about is the stupid mariners. Even then, he just spouts off the sports headlines like they're his original thoughts or sumthin. *shakes head in digust*

Oct. 19th, 2001 05:56 am (UTC)
Add a severe need to be right all the time, a military careeer where he's used to being obeyed, take out the alcohol and you've got mine.

A whole generation of men seem to be like this. The ones who had fathers in world war one.

And... yeah man, I feel ya.

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )


A Non-Newtonian Fluid

Latest Month

March 2010

Page Summary

Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Tiffany Chow