Your father is Dad
Which God have I pissed off now? Why am I having such a crappy existence this year?
I should really have a separate journal for all this shit, shouldn't I? Mind you, it would be a depressing place to be, whilst this one would be a manically bubbly place. So keeping the journal-with-bipolar-disorder for now.
I found out at the weekend that my Grandad has died.
Which is sad obviously.
But there's a twist - I've never really met him. This is my Dad's Dad. There's a long backstory that we shouldn't go into right now, but it ends with him trying to contact my parents for the last five years and them not wanting to know. I remember talking about him with my friend at high school when he first starting phoning. I never did get to meet, but I always wanted to, to judge for myself what kind of person he was.
But I guess I'll never really know now.
Light relief: dream diary again.
I had a dream last night that was heading in a crap direction - it was yet another dream about missing an exam and me being in deep trouble. But it gets to the part where I'm waiting to talk to a tutor about it
(by the way, *whose* university was I at? It wasn't mine, that's for sure!)
when who should come out but a younger version of David Arquette and Courtney Cox (amusingly called Monica though. Obviously been hit by the RIP Friends bug). They were both looking smug as they left - looks like they'd wriggled out of missing their exam, lol. So they wander into what looks like a bedroom (in a university? whatever). Five minutes later, he comes out, still smug, and carrying two mugs of coffee. I decide to ask him how he got out of it - via the medium of sign language for some reason.
He continues to smile at me as I silently ask him 'Did you two miss the exam?'.
There's a brief pause. Then he casually asks me if I'd like to *join* him and 'Monica' next week.
The accompanying wink tells me it involves that bedroom.
Blimey. Talk about random.
I should really have a separate journal for all this shit, shouldn't I? Mind you, it would be a depressing place to be, whilst this one would be a manically bubbly place. So keeping the journal-with-bipolar-disorder for now.
I found out at the weekend that my Grandad has died.
Which is sad obviously.
But there's a twist - I've never really met him. This is my Dad's Dad. There's a long backstory that we shouldn't go into right now, but it ends with him trying to contact my parents for the last five years and them not wanting to know. I remember talking about him with my friend at high school when he first starting phoning. I never did get to meet, but I always wanted to, to judge for myself what kind of person he was.
But I guess I'll never really know now.
Light relief: dream diary again.
I had a dream last night that was heading in a crap direction - it was yet another dream about missing an exam and me being in deep trouble. But it gets to the part where I'm waiting to talk to a tutor about it
(by the way, *whose* university was I at? It wasn't mine, that's for sure!)
when who should come out but a younger version of David Arquette and Courtney Cox (amusingly called Monica though. Obviously been hit by the RIP Friends bug). They were both looking smug as they left - looks like they'd wriggled out of missing their exam, lol. So they wander into what looks like a bedroom (in a university? whatever). Five minutes later, he comes out, still smug, and carrying two mugs of coffee. I decide to ask him how he got out of it - via the medium of sign language for some reason.
He continues to smile at me as I silently ask him 'Did you two miss the exam?'.
There's a brief pause. Then he casually asks me if I'd like to *join* him and 'Monica' next week.
The accompanying wink tells me it involves that bedroom.
Blimey. Talk about random.