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On being the genetic descendant….cont.

November 17, 2008

The never ending saga of my crazy father daughter relationship continues.  (Because I just can’t get enough of posting about my pathetic personal life.  Whatever, It’s my blog.)

So I never responded to his last e-mail.  I just let it go.  I didn’t bring up the election, though he continued to send me republican propaganda even on and after election day.   I did not respond.  I said nothing.  I called him before he left the country and we chatted about innocuous things.

So last week I thought it might be safe to finally talk to him.  It’d been a week since the election, he was back from his international travels, all was well.  So i call, we chat about fatherlydaughterly things, and everything is almost okay.

I say almost because now he can’t seem to stop making these sly comments about “Well we all know what YOU think, we just can’t get you to stop telling us what YOU think.”

D-lightful. (D, you will note, also stands for Dick.)

And none of us have any idea what YOU think Dad, I mean, since I’ve been sending you ridiculous articles almost daily and you just haven’t said anything at all about your thoughts on the matter.  Oh wait.  It was the other way around.

I decide to change the subject.   “Oh Dad, good news, I went to see a doctor and I’m totally healthy.”  Oh me, will you never learn that your father cannot simply be happy about good news.  First we have to go through WHY I went to the doctor, I tell him I had pain in my side and he just assumed that I meant while running, promplty stopped listening to what I was sayiing until he deccided to ask “why were you running?”  So I tell him the whole story about 3 times because he keeps not listening any more (Is this a 58 year old thing, or a guy whose wife has had a stroke thing?  Anyone?).

And then we get to the big one, the whopper “Well what did the doctor say about your weight?”

He said it was fine, he said we would keep an eye on it.  (Once he realized that I am in fact 6′ and so not quite as already dead as he had previously thought.)

“Well you know I’m just worried about you because there are a lot of ……………………BLAH blah blah”

Really?  really?  After I go to the doctor and find out that I’m COMPLETELY HEALTHY, in fact the doctor described my lab test results as “beautiful.”  I AM FINE.  But no, no we have to have the health conversation, because obviously I’m just the walking dead and I don’t know it.

Fucking Fuck.

I want to get him Tai Chi lessons for Christmas.  (I think it would be good because 1. he likes chinese culture and 2. he needs to get some excersize and do some meditative stuff because his BP is high and he’s overstressed.)  But I have a feeling he wont go because he’s just so busy.  He’d have to really want to make the time, and I don’t think he’s going to want to make time for anything I suggest.  (Anything I suggest, always wrong until he comes up with it on his own.)  /sigh


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  1. Shinobi, I think you and I have the same father. Srsly.

    We have a great relationship, most of the time. But when it comes to politics, health, or religion he gets so damned self-righteous. And he really has no business being self-righteous (not that anyone does), considering that he’s had many changes of heart and flip-flops over those very same three things. He started as a tree-hugger and went to Bible thumper, started conservative and went Progressive, started fat and went thin and went fat and went thin and went — well, you know the cycle.

    This is a man that should know and respect transformation, growth, etc. But no — if you aren’t him, you’re wrong, regardless of why you think what you think, if you’re healthy, if you’re spiritually fulfilled — if it isn’t HIS idea of health, HIS spirituality, HIS politics, you’re WRONG. I just plain don’t get it.

  2. Woo hoo! I always wanted more siblings.

    My biggest fear is that I will be just like him. Everyone tells me I am just like him, I require constant reassurance that I am not from people who disagree.

  3. Yeesh, I know what you mean. I think sometimes when I get a little lost in the heat of argument, it helps me to pull myself out of it and be more tolerant thinking that he would NOT do that!

    Don’t get me wrong, I love my Dad. And there are some things about him I’m happy passed down to me — he’s friendly, he’s well-spoken, he’s got a beautiful singing voice. But boy, I’m constantly vigilant about his pigheadedness.

    I think I was lucky my biological parents had such conflicting personalities that they had to divorce when I was very young — that means that my mom’s personality tempers my dad’s, and vice versa. Truly, being a divorced kid isn’t all bad sometimes. 😉

  4. Ditto. CONSTANT VIGILANCE! I do wish my mom was more able to call him on his shit right now, I think that’s why he’s gotten so bad. Even when she’s right he just thinks that she’s being crazy. (Classic, She tells him they need to do X. He forgets. She “never told him.” But now that she has severe brain damage it is always her fault, even if it is only really her fault 90% of the time.)

  5. Wicked permalink

    The thing is, I think one of the parts about growing up is realizing your parents aren’t perfect, and can, in fact, sometimes be dinks. I also think that part of this pig-headedness is mostly a male trait, found in men from certain generations, who were raised to believe that because they have y chromosones, means anything coming out of their mouth is gospel, and anything YOU say is just sheer and utter nonsense.

    Of course, that’s just my opinion, and, unlike my dad, I can admit that I could be wrong.

    And, btw, you are right. It IS your blog, and you don’t have to apologize or feel bad or anything for posting whatever you want. Just please, don’t post any Rick Astley pictures. That man gave redheads everywhere a bad name!

  6. With my father, I realized that these horrible, mean things he says are just his twisted way of saying “I love you.” So, basically, when the conversation takes a bad turn, I stop listening and replace everything he says with “I love you.” When he finishes his rant, I say “Thank you for your concern, I love you.” I think he probably gets what I’m doing, but at the same time gets that I’m onto him, so the topic changes after that.

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