"One-way streets and square one, The answers don't come from any one direction"
I live in Chicago with my boyfriend T and our mini-menagerie of 3 cats and 2 dogs. I have very little of world-changing importance to contribute but I like to see my words in print so I blog.
Apropos of Nothing
Awesome
City Wendy in the Windy City
Cruel Irony
Desperate Common Law Wives
Dooce
Eat A Peach for Love
EJShea
Finslippy
Fussy
Go Fug Yourself
Gripe du Jour
In My Life
Jen and Tonic
Jen Fu
Loobylu
Matilda Zine
Mighty Girl
Mihow
Mimi Smartypants
Not Well Planned
Pesky Apostrophe
Pound
Pretty Crabby
Que Sera Sera
Scott Bateman
Sheets and Blankets
Sparkwood & 21
Styrofoam Kitty
Suburban Bliss
Sweetney
The Anchored Nomad
The MidwestGrrl
The Redhead Papers
Things I Am Over
TranceJen
Very Zen
Weetabix
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I have noticed that every day I sit down here with my scraps of paper and various notes to self and end up self-editing away about 90% of what I have written. I will admit that perhaps 80% of what I have made a note of is not necessarily noteworthy to everyone who might stumble across this blog, but I resolve to make this a true journal. I will record the idiot thoughts that occur to me as a record for myself and worry a bit less about presuming that there might be an audience.
That said:
I was driving home from work and I got all caught up in the appearance of the sky. There were dark clouds in the distance with kind of a break and a peek of blue sky. It looked like I was driving into the mountains. It was really quite striking. This lead me to hold a debate with myself (I love that because I always win) about how to photograph the sky and the possibility of capturing the subtleties of the shading with black and white film. I spend a lot of my time viewing things in terms of how they would translate to photograph. Then I decided that I should probably focus a bit more on the actual driving of the car.
This afternoon there was a rain storm in the greater Chicagoland area (as it is generally called). I am a fan of rain and nice thunderstorms occasionally. I like the ominous sky and the sense of impending doom I can create for myself. It appeals to the part of me that sat on the swings at the age of five singing little made-up dirges. I am especially fond of the storms when they do not inconvenience me particularly. I am not a girly-girl about the hairdo getting mussed and I never have an umbrella or any of the other proper wet weather gear. I am not a big fan of driving in the rain mostly because other drivers act as though washers and dryers were falling from the sky instead of a little water. But, as long as I am not required to run through the rain in heels or try to function without electricity for long periods of time, I love the rain.
In keeping with tradition, the promo for the local news featured a close-up shot of a single, pea-sized hailstone on the wet ground. Grrrrrrrr. For what I am sure will not be the last time: THE WEATHER IS NOT NEWS!!!
As I drove to work this morning, I noted that someone had dressed the statue of the Virgin Mary in their front yard in an Illinois sweatshirt. I have no idea if she is a big NCAA basketball fan or if she was just cold. (Note: this same homeowner wraps the statue in plastic wrap over the winter, I have not yet figured out any of this)
The bane of even the short amount of time that I spend in my car is the very bad radio. I do not mean that my particular car stereo is of inferior manufacture but rather that the choices for radio listening range from the truly sucky to the horribly bad. I spend a good deal of my 10-15 minute commute switching radio stations and swearing. I have a cassette deck but who the hell carries cassettes anymore? Anyway, I switch and switch and switch and eventually I reach the point where I turn the radio off and sing to myself. I do not want to hear the Goo Goo Dolls! Ever again! I guess the Dave Matthews band has out a new album because every station was playing crappy Dave Matthews. No more Dave Matthews!
That said, there is one radio station that gives me amusement. (I think they should use that ringing endorsement as their new slogan) About six months ago this new radio station came to Chicago that claims "We play anything!". There is some truth in this advertising. I personally listen to hear the incongruous musical programming. My favorites so far are:
Hmmmm...what's on the list today? I have begun to keep a specific list of fabulous ideas that occur to me throughout my action-packed day. I have realized that my mind has started to function like a sieve and only the most important and relevant information makes the cut to permanent memory. I sometimes picture a warehouse manager like at a records storage company moving things around and disposing of the non-essential items. Ah yes, lyrics to songs stick around forever but the names of people I have met recently are deemed disposable. Premature senility, permanently addled from the drug and alcohol consumption of my youth, in need of gingko biloba, you pick.
Sunday was Easter and it was celebrated in my favorite fashion: sleep in and go for a late brunch. We went to this local Italian place where the owner walks around with a microphone and sings old songs. Frank Sinatra, Bobby Darin, Tony Bennett, etc. It was goofy but the food was pretty good. There is usually some difficulty settling on a place to eat for family gatherings because we have a very particular vegetarian in the group but this fit the bill for everyone. The waiter was Italian, very young and spoke with a bit of an accent. The highlight was the recommendation of the lemon "merengue" pie. I was very interested to see if it would be wearing a shirt with ruffly sleeves or if perhaps the waiter would dance it over to the table. Nope, just plain, old lemon meringue pie.
On my way home from work today, I may have discovered the coolest job ever. There are a number of forest preserves on the route home and today there were billowing clouds of smoke issuing from one of the preserves. At first I was worried that some idiot had started a fire but, as I got closer, I realized that they were doing one of those "controlled burns" to get rid of undergrowth or whatever. Anyway, there were people with flamethrowers. Sure, there was all this wimpy safety gear required but you would get to use a flamethrower. I would like to be able to put that on my resume under "special skills".
Today I was off from work for Good Friday. It seemed like a good day to avail myself of one of the many fine museums in Chicago. Namely: The Art Institute. Apparently, everyone else in the city of Chicago, and perhaps a number of the suburban residents, had the same idea. The crush of humanity was a bit much. I am not the biggest fan of crowds and I highly value my personal space. However, we persevered and a good (and highly aesthetically pleasing) time was had by all.
I did notice that a number of areas in the Contemporay Arts section were closed off and a number of classic paintings that are associated with The Art Institute were not on display. Specifically "American Gothic" and Hopper's "Nighthawks". Not that I have not seen them before but you come to expect them. There is a great deal of other work that I always enjoy seeing. The Miro collection seemed to be more heavily displayed than I remembered, much to my delight. I suppose they change the exhibits to keep things fresh. There was an interesting architectural exhibit featuring current Chicago architects. I also really enjoyed the two Photography exhibits. (Especially since the regular Photography section was closed off.) If you have never been or are visiting Chicago , I would highly recommend it. There are paintings there that I have seen pictures of my entire life and they take my breath away in person.
Okay, enough of the arty-farty stuff.
The highlight of the downtown trip was the sighting of a large gathering of people making some sort of public demonstration of faith. I am sure it had to do with Good Friday although I cannot remember specific Biblical references to marching with signs. I am Catholic but not very much so. Anyway, the best part of the whole thing was that there was a mime (dressed in traditional mime garb and makeup) miming the crucifixtion. I could not decide if this was one of those kooky mime gags where the mime mocks passersby or if the group had made a concious choice to have a mime play Jesus. I guess the crown of thorns was under the beret.
Today I was driving home from work and I was flipping the radio stations and just thinking( you know, "trying to pass the time") when I looked up and noticed the car in front of me. The main reason I noticed it was because the driver had been fairly aggressive and, deciding that I was not driving fast enough, made a very peeved gesture as she went ahead of me. I admit I am a bit oblivious sometimes. I pretty much drive the speed limit and obey the rules because there is nowhere that I need to be that is worth the aggravation of getting stopped. So, as I was saying, I look up and notice the back of this woman's car (because she had progressed to one car in front of me instead of one car behind me what with her spiffy Nascar driving skills). I note the following: a license plate holder with a heart pattern on it, three of those magnetic ribbons (1 for breast cancer, 1 for "support the troops" & 1 I am not sure) plus about four or five large Disney character stuffed animals on the rear window ledge. I think all of this was meant to convey to the world that she was a kind, thoughtful and sometimes whimsical person. The hand gesture she made as she passed made me think perhaps she has a darker side as well.
I was reading this article in Salon about a new book on the subject of sociopaths. It was an interesting perspective on the subject. I have always believed that there were a number of people that you meet that are emotionally detached from the world. Not unaware, just unfeeling. It was one of those things that I struggled with a lot when I was growing up. I am not saying I was an angel, just that it really did not occur to me to be mean or deceptive and so it was difficult for me to spot that behaviour in others. I am still taken by surprise when I come upon people that operate in this way. I am competitive and I like to be recognized as much as the next guy but there are limits to what I will do to that end.
**Special follow up note to yesterday: I drove by the crazy decorating neighbours and they have really slacked off this year. They had an inflatable leprechaun atop a shamrock and not an Easter Bunny in sight.
I have had a relatively calm week at work. The boss was back and we had a four day week (with Good Friday off). I got to do a lot of surfing of the internet and reading of the blogs and thinking and even some reading of an actual book. This leads me to the following mini rant: I am really tired of poorly written books with a decent premise being touted as great literature! If one more person, upon seeing me reading a book, recommends "The DaVinci Code" to me, I will scream shrilly and long. I have not read "The DaVinci Code" and I have no desire to read it. I will admit that I was almost ready to give into the curiousity and attempt to read this book last year. However, I got into a discussion about books with some people in the restaurant and this woman was ranting about how great "The DaVinci Code" is but I should really start with "Angels and Demons" (another book by the author). So, while I was on vacation, I picked up "Angels and Demons" and gave it a read. It was an interesting premise but spectacularly poorly written. The style was almost on a par with the "See Spot Run" books we learned to read from in first grade. I was so put off by this mess of a book (I had to finish it though because I have to finish anything I start to read no matter how bad it is) that I can not begin to read "The DaVinci Code". And people should stop suggesting it because I am going to start being rude instead of smiling and saying, "That's what I hear." So, enough already.
I am highly suspicious, in general, of anything that is hyped as "the next great thing". My skepticism about the standards of the general public (or lack thereof) have served me well in the past and have allowed me to avoid being caught up in such things as the "Titanic" mania or wasting my time on reality tv. I have seen some of the reality tv shows because people would request that we put them on the tv in the bar at work. I cannot say that I have ever seen anything that would make me want to watch this dreck on my own time. Okay, one guilty pleasure, The Surreal World. But, come on people, that's just an accident that you can't not rubberneck. (Oooohhhhh. Double negative and I am just leaving it)
This has been another fun-filled Spring Break '05 day.
The highlights:
I love my TiVO.
It lets me create my own Law and Order Marathons wherein I mix original flavor L&O with L&O: Special Victims and the occasional L&O: Criminal Intent.
I consider my TiVO one of the family but I am beginning to believe that we don't really know each other that well.
A recent sample of TiVO Suggestions that were recorded for my enjoyment:
The Italian Job - in Spanish (Que?)
Hail Bop - "Director Tony Palmer profiles composer John Adams" (As opposed to the profile of 2nd President of the United States John Adams that I had put on my wish list)
TV Detectives - "Bartender Bruce Willis becomes one of Hollywood's biggest stars" ("one of Hollywood's biggest stars" but not "one of Hollywood's most interesting stars")
Ponce de Leon:The First Conquistador - "The Spanish explorer discovers Florida, brutalizing the native population in the quest for riches" (yeah baby, bring on the brutalizing, the subjugation of the native peoples and record me a film about it)
Biography/Helen Gurley Brown - "The publishing legend becomes the toast of Manhattan" (Yuck!! How much of that emaciated freak must I endure?)
OJ: A Study In Black and White - "Race relations in America are examined through the experiences of OJ Simpson, beginning with his football career" (It's good to start out with the good stuff and work your way up to the bad)
James Galway - "The classical flutist embarks on a tour of the United Kingdom" (Gosh, I was hoping to follow that tour and sell tie-dyed flute cases in the parking lot)
Green, Green Grass of Home - "Welsh singer Tom Jones rises to stardom" (Do they think my Mom lives here?)
Box Office Bio - "Sylvester Stallone" (TiVO must be able to see into the deepest depths of my heart and knows that, although I claim to not like the Rocky movies, I have a special place for "Over the Top")
Gypsy Passion:The Making of Joaquin Cortes - "Flamenco fusion dancer Joaquin Cortes and company" (Que?)
Howard Goodall's Organ Works - "The organ in the 20th Century; electronic organs" (The title of this is a bit scary but I am almost sure it is a family program)
John Ratzenberger's Made In America - "Hallmark Cards, American Champion Aircraft, Delta Faucets" (All the things that make America great brought to you by Cliff Clavin)
Every few years I give up on the news.
I read mostly online news these days. Yahoo News, the local paper online and Salon. I tend to focus on the good stuff or the human interest stuff because most of the political news pisses me off and makes me rant at my tv or computer. The news is cyclical, even the human interest/entertainment news cycles from high to low and we are on a long, downhill slope right now.
I can deal with the constant reports on the woes and misdeeds of celebrities (although I do not comprehend the fascination with Paris Hilton). It's okay because I don't have to read about Paris or Michael Jackson (or any of the many other people who should just go away) if I choose not to. I don't have to listen to which celebrity is divorcing which celebrity or which celebrity got caught driving drunk because I can change the channel. I do not blame the media for reporting these people's lives as news because, obviously, there must be an audience. I can understand the argument that the price of celebrity is the media/paparazzi frenzy that accompanies fame but I still find it disturbing.
And I choose not to participate.
I sometimes think that the very worst thing about being famous must be the possibility of something bad or humiliating happening to you. I have had my share of moments (I think we all have) that I would not like photographed, videotaped or otherwise recorded for their entertainment/news value. I think about going through painful moments of breakups and loss and having to deal with everyone watching how you are handling yourself. Or having your mugshot from that DUI (these photos are never flattering) splashed all over the internet or the newspapers. Ye gods, it is difficult enough to deal with the shit that happens everyday without having to worry about whether or not you were polite enough to the girl you buy your coffee from. I think this scrutiny would be paralyzing. Therefore, I vow before everyone here today, that I will never be famous.
I also have a small problem with people who refer to celebrities by their first names. Unless the celebrity in question is of the single name variety (Madonna, Prince, etc.) this is just weird and a little bit scary. I think it is nice to have an interest in what is going on but disturbing to have whole conversations about the rumors surrounding the breakup of "Brad and Jen". Unless, of course, you are referring to that slutty cheerleader and her boyfriend, the guy who threw up on you at the Homecoming Dance. Stop it people, these are not intimate aquaintances.
Coming soon: The Weather is NOT news.
10 Things About Me:
1. I have an unhealthy obsession with Steve Buscemi
2. I like 50 Cent and Ludacris even though I am not the target audience
3. I have visited all 50 states
4. I have a morbid fear of little people
5. I have never seen any Star Wars movie all the way through nor do I intend to
6. I frequently use the word funeral instead of wedding and Halloween instead of Valentines Day
7. I have been married and divorced twice
8. My favorite sports figures of all time are Carlton Fisk and Larry Bird
9. I am not able to take a shower because I am claustrophobic
10. I am unable to whistle
I was having a nice, warm, relaxing bath and letting my mind wander and unwind. I like to just think and follow tangents in my head.
Tonight I was thinking about music. I am reading a book called "Crossing California" by Adam Langer (I highly recommend). The book is set in the late 70's/early 80"s and he references songs and bands from that period to paint a picture of the type of people he is writing about. I, of course, recognize the songs and bands he is referencing and their presence in the scenes really tells me a lot about who the characters are. (Pot-smoking-Molly-Hatchett-listening-teenagers) I went off on this tangent in my mind about how music is so immediately able to evoke memories or feelings and, specifically, the songs or albums that have specific meaning to me. Such as:
The Harder They Come (Soundtrack) - Senior year of high school in Albuquerque, getting stoned with my best pal Amber. Sometimes I can actually feel the sun on the side of my face.
You've Got A Friend - James Taylor - The Catholic Church we attended when I was a kid was very progressive and we would sing this song.
that's almost as embarassing as:
Fire and Rain - James Taylor - When I found out that my Grandpa had died.
Radar Love - Golden Earring - The guy I had a huge crush on ( and with whom I had just had sex) and I were stuck in this really awkward situation together where I could tell he wanted to leave but he was being really polite and trying to escape without being a total ass. (this happened when I was 16 and I still turn this song off if it comes on the radio)
Trace - Son Volt - The album that got me through the hardest of times and the worst breakup I have ever been through.
The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust - David Bowie - Locked in my bedroom with the headphones on trying not to think about anything (and failing miserably). There is this great part of the song Ziggy Stardust where the sound fades from left to right and back again that is truly amazing when listened to through headphones (smoking a lot of pot helps too)
Sexual Healing - Marvin Gaye - Getting ready to go to a Black Sabbath concert with the aforementioned best pal Amber. Her Mom was most amused that I just could not stop singing this song. Oh, I was so very metal.
Melissa - The Allman Brothers - This is the song my older sister named my neice in honor of (my brother in-law was a hippie from Alabama). The song always reminded me of Melissa and it would make me smile. When she was 18, Melissa was killed in a car accident on her way to college. The song was played more than a few times at her funeral. it used to make me cry, now it makes me smile again. (except when I hear it in that damned commercial and then I just threaten to shoot the tv)
My Aim is True - Elvis Costello - The summer I turned 16 and stayed at my Dad's house so that I could work for him. My step-sister and I listened to this a lot. It is still on my top 10 albums of all time list.
Kid - The Pretenders - Always reminds me of my younger sister - this was "our song". Kind of sad.
The Dreaming - Kate Bush - My room (I spent a lot of time there) in Albuquerque and, for some reason, the August rainy season there.
The Wall - Pink Floyd - Midnight movies and we were soooooooooo high.
Monkey Man - The Rolling Stones - The first time I ever saw the guy who would go on to break my heart in ways I had not thought possible.
Brass Monkey - The Beastie Boys - Peeing my pants at Disney World (this is a beautiful story that actually took place at Pleasure Island and it involved a lot of drinking and my boyfriend trying to dance like my 5th grade teacher)
Okay, this is a topic to be continued. I am trying to take all of this stuff out of my head and give it a safe home here where I can visit it when I feel like it. Thank you (my vast audience) for your indulgence.
One last story I cannot resist sharing: My boyfriend has a song that has a memory for him. When he was a kid the only pet he ever had was a guinea pig. When it died, he would get all teary-eyed whenever he would hear Everything I Own by Bread. (now that's embarassing)
This week has felt like a month.
I got my photo project all done and matted. Yeah! I have relatively no experience with matting and yet it went smoothly. I managed to mat 11 prints without cutting myself or having to throw anything out. I may have discovered my hitherto unknown secret power.
Next up: Spring Break! It just does not have the same madcap appeal if you are staying in Chicago and going to work every day. I have threatened to wear a bathing suit and drink margaritas at work but I think it will not fly. Alas, I will not participate in the traditional drunken excesses. One year I went to New Orleans for a vacation the same week as Spring Break. We did not plan it that way. We just discovered it upon arrival. It was a little disconcerting to see young, preppy-looking guys passed out in doorways. Other than that, it was just another weekend in New Orleans.
I am tired of winter and ready for some sunshine and warm air. I am looking forward to getting the patio furniture back out and the barbeque fired up. This is only our second year in this house so the yard is still under construction. There are some nice trees and the area we live in is very quiet and peaceful. I have discovered that I love planting and growing and even weeding and digging. I have seeds ready to plant and there are a lot of perennials that I planted last year to look forward to.
I am taking off school for the summer and I am going to enjoy the time.
Today, I answered the phone at work because that is one of my primary functions. We have caller ID but, even if I know the call will be a telemarketer, I am supposed to answer the phone. The call went a little something like this:
Me: Thank you for calling (Name of Company), this is (insert name here), how may I help you?
Clueless Telemarketer: Hello Mr or Mrs (insert name here), I am calling you today on behalf of (insert name of major bank credit card service) ....blah, blah, blah.
Okay, this was a bit unsettling, mostly because I think I have a pleasant speaking voice that leaves no room for gender identification confusion. I know that the telemarketing industry is not picking from the cream of the employment-seeking crop, but come on.
In other news (and apropos of nothing) I was talking with my friend J. today. She and I worked together for several years. The last job I had before my current job was managing a bar/restaurant. My friend is still an assistant manager for this restaurant. We talk from time to time and she reminds me why I left restaurant management. ( ie. the long hours, the crazy staff, the insane owners and the drunks, etc.) She did remind me of an incident that I believe illustrates just how surreal the restaurant world can be.
One night I came in to work and one of the damned dishwashers had not shown up for his shift. This was a bit strange because he had always been reliable prior to this incident. Finally, he showed up on payday looking for his pay. I sat him down and asked him why he had not come in and emphasized that we valued him as an employee, etc. He explained to me (in very broken English mixed with lots of Spanish) that the Sous Chef had farted on his head when he bent down to put clean pans on the line. Actually, he made the "phftttt" fart sound to indicate what had happened being unsure whether I would understand the word for fart in Spanish. (Ah, he underestimates me) I assured him that this was not tolerated behaviour and that I would take care of the situation immediately. (All the time my mind is boggling and I am trying not to laugh).
The best part of this is that I had to actually discuss this with said Sous Chef. The upshot of this conversation being, "It is not okay to fart on the head of the dishwasher, ever." This was the kind of thing I had supposed went without saying. Live and learn.
Okay, I'll admit it , I own a dog (actually 2 dogs and 4 cats, yikes) and one of the great pleasures of my home life is talking crazy to the animals. They all have multiple nicknames depending on my mood and we spend many fulfilling hours discussing the world and current events. Currently my girl puppy is having her "visitor" and her female parts are quite swollen, so there has been much discussion of her "cooter".
Weird family interaction that is very typical of my mom: A couple of years ago my sister was shopping for Christmas and found what she believed to be a good item for stocking stuffers for my other sister and myself. At Victoria's Secret there were marketing "Vicki Mints". They came in a little tin all sort of pink and cutesy and were shaped like a mouth. (At the time, I believe that Sis#1 was really into Altoids) So, she is showing them to my mom and takes one out to show her and my mom says, "Oh" and sounds a bit surprised. So my sister asks her what's up. And my mom says, "Well, they're shaped like little cooters, why would they do that?" My sister about wet herself and the mints became known as "Cooter Mints". Ah, sometimes it is the little moments that really make Christmas special.
I have one minor (okay major) gripe that I need to air. Today, I am in the Photo Lab at school. The place is a mad house and everyone is flying around trying to finish up projects, etc. So, knowing this, I arm myself with the IPod and keep my head down trying to achieve some sort of Zen photo printing vibe. And, of course, this asshole next to me just feels the need to talk to me. Incessantly, inanely and irrelevantly. The first time he does so, I look a little blank and pull my headphones off and ask him to repeat himself. Which he does. I answer him politely but concisely and make a great show of putting the headphones back on. But apparently my subtlety is lost on him because he continues to repeat the same shit over and over for the next 3 hours. Note #1: I do not know this guy and have never even run into him in the Photo Lab before. Note #2: I was not being dense and missing some guy-trying-to-pick-me-up thing. The guy was apparently just an idiot or rude or both. Grrrrrrrrr....why am I always so surprised when I run into a genuine idiot? Eventually, I started just smiling and nodding whenever he spoke to me but did not remove my headphones.
On the plus side, I did get all of my assigment printed and ready to go. Why? Because I am a trooper. A lesser woman might have given in in the face of great adversity but not I.
On the plus, plus side, today my work computer started functioning normally and my good friend the Internet was back. Yeah!
I am peeved at technology and further peeved by my dependence on technology.
Now, that would seem an odd statement for me having just begun this whole blog thing, but I have no internet at work and no prospect of internet for at least a week. What will I do without my beloved internet? The only thing that makes my work day bearable?
My job, as you may have guessed, is not one that requires a great deal of actual work. In fact, mostly I just get paid to be present. I do some paperwork and answer some phones but it is no real challenge. The phone rang exactly 3 times today. Only one of those calls required me to do more than explain that we were not interested in what the caller was selling. "Why do you stay?", you might ask. The short answer is that I do not really want a job that requires a great deal of me and ...I get paid quite nicely. It also involves the fact that jeans and Converse sneakers are considered acceptable office attire.
So, I depend on my gadgets for diversion. I read several online news sources. I look up information on subjects that are of interest to me. I peruse several blogs. I pass the time until can go home.
I go to school and take art classes. Maybe the classes will result in a degree. Maybe they will not. The plan is a bit open and my interests change daily. Trying to decide what I will be when I grow up. There is plenty of time for that.
This is my new blog. Hmmmm a chance to share my vast wisdom and keep the world up to date on my life. Poor world.
Actually, this seemed like a good forum for me to vent about all the crap that is going on in my little universe. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. I am prone to fits of irrational rage and childish pique.
My father, from whom I have been estranged for many years, has recently contacted me to let me know that he is dying. To be more precise, the woman we call "stepmonster" has contacted me to let me know that I have been ungrateful and uncaring .....and that my father is dying. Of cancer. Who knew that smoking 3 packs a day and drinking a fifth of bourbon a night would shorten your life?
God, that sounds so harsh, but that was the first thought I had when the woman contacted me. Then I got mad and sad and all the other things you get when you find out someone you love is dying. Eventually I made reservations and flew down to see him.
I had not seen my father in about 10 years. He lives in Albuquerque and I live in Chicago. The distance has not been the factor , as I have frequently visited my mother and sister in New Hampshire. I just made a decision that the guilt and the unpleasantness of visiting were not worth it. Not to mention the ever-present stepmonster. Even calling became a task I had to work up to. Inevitably, my stepmonster would answer the phone and sigh heavily before droning out my name to my father and handing over the phone. Then the deep meaningful discussion of the weather would commence. This seemed to be the main content of the conversations we had. I don't know about you but I only have about 2 or 3 good minutes on the weather and then I am ready to move on.
There are many complaints that I could make about my childhood experience with my father. He was distant , absent and unable to express affection. The complaints have worn thin over the years and I have grown tired of placing blame. I have not exactly resolved my issues with my father but I had put them at a comfortable arm's length where I could live with them. I always kind of figured I had plenty of time to deal with those things sometime in the future. When I was mature.
Needless to say, I have not made sufficient progress on the maturity front by my calculations.
I did, however, fly to Albuquerque and made an attempt at a resolution. In time-honored family tradition, I made this attempt by pretending that nothing had ever been wrong and that we were just one big, happy family.
Strangely enough, this time it was okay.
There really was nothing left to fight about. We did have one discussion in which my father told me that he loved me and I told him that I knew that he loved me and that I loved him. I also told him I was sorry that we had not understood each other a little better.
Now, that sounds a bit "made for the Lifetime Channel", but it really is what happened.
I still do not understand my father or the choices that he made with regard to his relationship with my sister and me, but I am beginning to let go of my anger and resentment.
