day 9: what are we waiting for?
it's april 9th, friends. aka the drunkard's birthday.
this post for a month things has got me feeling really reflective on where i am and where i've been [and lol, i've been saying the same thing, in different words, for at least 6 days now]. it's got me feeling really nostalgic, somehow, and i've found myself going through my old lj and my paper journals more frequently. i was sad this time last year. i was sad this time 2 years ago. i was sad this time 3 years ago. and sure, that could mean nothing. i'm sad a lot. but i don't really sustain sadness. that is, i get sad, i get happy. i move back and forth constantly. but this sadness, it's underneath my happy, underneath my annoyance, underneath my sadness. it sticks and it stains and it gets all over everything. i don't know how to explain it.
two years ago, i didn't get my dad anything for father's day, or his birthday. whichever. he was sooo pissed. he was acting like a fucking child, pouting and whining to grandma, it was fucking disgusting. eventually, a few months later, i was coerced into apologizing by my grandma who had just disappointed me BIG TIME. i've always had feminist tendencies, that i was mostly able to suppress or fight off but for fuck's sake! i don't really want to repeat the shit she said to me that day, about jesus and respecting your elders and the most subservient be a good woman bullshit i've ever fucking heard. she could've pushed me into traffic and i would have been less hurt and disappointed.
a year ago, i forgot his birthday and went through this whole huge question of whether or not i should send him a belated birthday card, here.
today, i forgot as well. i had known it was coming up, and that yesterday was the 8th, but it didn't occur to me until about 12:30 that today was the 9th. fuck. he called me at 11, but i was in class and didn't answer. when i listened to the voicemail, there was like a lot of noise, a lot of feedback and undiscernable background shit. i was thinking, srsly? pocket-dial me? on a flip phone? then he said, "hi baby. i love you." and hung up. i'm like, fuuuuck, how drunk are you!? it's fucking 11 in the morning! i had no intention of calling him back, but when i realized it's his birthday, i knew i had to. i had wanted to rant at mama about it for a while, but she said she was in class [?? my mom doesn't go to school...]. so i just called him to get it over with. he wasn't as drunk as i'd thought he was; apparently linkin park was on the radio and he was playing it for me. he has a shitty phone so it's no surprise i didn't recognize it. but he was still drinking. his excuse: "it's my birthday! fuck it." i refrained from responding, but a what's your excuse the rest of the year? was on the tip of my tongue. the conversation came to a close without argument or insult, and that was good.
but, well, i feel scarred now. i was talking to chloe today, trying to find out if maybe she knew a different way i could tell my dad he has a problem without being confrontational, like i was the last several times it came up. so i asked her without giving away much detail about the situation, but she asked something like how did my mom deal with my dad? and i was like, damn. so i told her i was talking about my dad, and i realized how sensitive the subject is for me. i was trying to convince her i'm fine, as long as i don't have to see him, but i do have to see him. and she was like, giving me sympathy and i just... i just wished i never asked. and that's not her fault. i could like, hear myself saying "eh, it's alright." but it's not. it's not alright at all. i'm not alright. i'm scarred... fucked up... something.
i've spent a little bit too much of my life trying not to be what you expect. trying to be full of surprises. trying not to be predictable, to challenge your assumptions about me. in lecture recently, Dr. Alfonso said something like, "it's similar to kids who grew up with alcoholic parents. they usually either come to drink a lot, or have a problem, an aversion to people who drink." and i felt the indignation and denial rising in my throat. but it's true, of me anyway. and i hated it, hated that i'm so predictable, such a generalization, not a real person, just a statistic, just a product of a certain upbringing. etc.
what does this have to do with anything? you know, i'm not sure.
in closing, lol internet threats. good day.
//edit: so i just watched this and i just don't know what i'm feeling. i mean, i lovelovelove madonna, despite her complete investment in the womyn can't be old fat or ugly bullshit ideals we regurgitate to each new generation. but uhm, i wish she would stop trying to look young. it's freaking me out. and i just don't think she and justin are a good combo. that said, i love her and her dancing and those fucking boots she's wearing. jesus. as for the song, meh.
this post for a month things has got me feeling really reflective on where i am and where i've been [and lol, i've been saying the same thing, in different words, for at least 6 days now]. it's got me feeling really nostalgic, somehow, and i've found myself going through my old lj and my paper journals more frequently. i was sad this time last year. i was sad this time 2 years ago. i was sad this time 3 years ago. and sure, that could mean nothing. i'm sad a lot. but i don't really sustain sadness. that is, i get sad, i get happy. i move back and forth constantly. but this sadness, it's underneath my happy, underneath my annoyance, underneath my sadness. it sticks and it stains and it gets all over everything. i don't know how to explain it.
two years ago, i didn't get my dad anything for father's day, or his birthday. whichever. he was sooo pissed. he was acting like a fucking child, pouting and whining to grandma, it was fucking disgusting. eventually, a few months later, i was coerced into apologizing by my grandma who had just disappointed me BIG TIME. i've always had feminist tendencies, that i was mostly able to suppress or fight off but for fuck's sake! i don't really want to repeat the shit she said to me that day, about jesus and respecting your elders and the most subservient be a good woman bullshit i've ever fucking heard. she could've pushed me into traffic and i would have been less hurt and disappointed.
a year ago, i forgot his birthday and went through this whole huge question of whether or not i should send him a belated birthday card, here.
today, i forgot as well. i had known it was coming up, and that yesterday was the 8th, but it didn't occur to me until about 12:30 that today was the 9th. fuck. he called me at 11, but i was in class and didn't answer. when i listened to the voicemail, there was like a lot of noise, a lot of feedback and undiscernable background shit. i was thinking, srsly? pocket-dial me? on a flip phone? then he said, "hi baby. i love you." and hung up. i'm like, fuuuuck, how drunk are you!? it's fucking 11 in the morning! i had no intention of calling him back, but when i realized it's his birthday, i knew i had to. i had wanted to rant at mama about it for a while, but she said she was in class [?? my mom doesn't go to school...]. so i just called him to get it over with. he wasn't as drunk as i'd thought he was; apparently linkin park was on the radio and he was playing it for me. he has a shitty phone so it's no surprise i didn't recognize it. but he was still drinking. his excuse: "it's my birthday! fuck it." i refrained from responding, but a what's your excuse the rest of the year? was on the tip of my tongue. the conversation came to a close without argument or insult, and that was good.
but, well, i feel scarred now. i was talking to chloe today, trying to find out if maybe she knew a different way i could tell my dad he has a problem without being confrontational, like i was the last several times it came up. so i asked her without giving away much detail about the situation, but she asked something like how did my mom deal with my dad? and i was like, damn. so i told her i was talking about my dad, and i realized how sensitive the subject is for me. i was trying to convince her i'm fine, as long as i don't have to see him, but i do have to see him. and she was like, giving me sympathy and i just... i just wished i never asked. and that's not her fault. i could like, hear myself saying "eh, it's alright." but it's not. it's not alright at all. i'm not alright. i'm scarred... fucked up... something.
i've spent a little bit too much of my life trying not to be what you expect. trying to be full of surprises. trying not to be predictable, to challenge your assumptions about me. in lecture recently, Dr. Alfonso said something like, "it's similar to kids who grew up with alcoholic parents. they usually either come to drink a lot, or have a problem, an aversion to people who drink." and i felt the indignation and denial rising in my throat. but it's true, of me anyway. and i hated it, hated that i'm so predictable, such a generalization, not a real person, just a statistic, just a product of a certain upbringing. etc.
what does this have to do with anything? you know, i'm not sure.
Click to viewin closing, lol internet threats. good day.
//edit: so i just watched this and i just don't know what i'm feeling. i mean, i lovelovelove madonna, despite her complete investment in the womyn can't be old fat or ugly bullshit ideals we regurgitate to each new generation. but uhm, i wish she would stop trying to look young. it's freaking me out. and i just don't think she and justin are a good combo. that said, i love her and her dancing and those fucking boots she's wearing. jesus. as for the song, meh.