(no subject)
Just read Heather's post about her Dad. I often wonder if I should meet my father too and try to get some closure between us before it's too late. But the same thing gets in the way for me as well. I'm not angry, not usually, and I still haven’t completely been able to let go and forgive him. He's never apologized for the things that he's done. Or has he? Actually, I'm not sure. He sent many birthday cards after the last summer that I visited, but I don't think I cared much to read what he wrote in them. I do remember that it was often too scribbley to make out. His cards became harder to read after Theresa, my step Mom, left him. She always used nice handwriting and stickers to cover all of the blank spots. Maybe there wasn't much to read, anyway. I did enjoy the money, though. For a nine year old, a twenty is a big bill.
I can't say if he is sorry or not, but I'm sure that he's human. And I bet, regardless of how he acts, he's a very scared and insecure person. The truth is that he knows he screwed up but doesn't know how to make up for it. I have to remind myself of this every time. So, in a sense I am kind of a hypocrite when it comes to this matter. I sometimes preach about loving everyone because they are God's children and even having compassion on those who have committed the worst crimes, but when it comes to my own life, my own advice is so very bitter to take. It is a revolting pill that I choke on and makes me want to spit. That is why I don't know if it is right to see him now. I'm not sure that I could say anything good or beneficial.
I made a song yesterday and forgot it. I need to stop doing that.
I also painted Philip's old room. I painted over the dark blue and the green pressed leaves. Well, I actually only primed them, which is merely adding white so that the existing colors don't seep through. It was a lot harder than I thought. I decided that using the ladder took more effort than it was worth to maneuver around the bed in the middle of the room. So, there was a lot of jumping involved. It was a battle, splotching out all that blue, much like the battle between love and pride. I fought until all spaces were at least covered once, then went home. Today I am very sore.
And tired. Twice I almost swerved off of the road. My eyes were resisting terribly. No matter how much I shook my head or how hard I slapped myself, the next second it was creeping up on me like a dream.
Thankfully, Theory and Sight Singing are canceled for today. So, now I only have Creative Writing and time enough to catch up in Environmental Science and Renaissance.