Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go.
Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you.
- Pueblo Blessing

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Tuesday, Oct. 12, 2004 - 2:39 a.m.

This from over at Sugaslice's:

Where do you fall on the liberal - conservative political spectrum? (United States)
brought to you by Quizilla

This is the third entry today I think... the others are mostly quick to read here:

Dad fax
A day in the life

I'll put more real entry later. I'm actually working.
tah!
wenchie

4:48 am

Hullo! I'm back! I figured that only two people have read this so I will add to it instead of writing a fourth entry tonight.

Quiches in the oven, copyright 2004 wench77

Well, I DID peruse the 9 page fax from Dad... starting with the last paragraph, which usually tells one the tone without all the actual nasty hurtful words, and it wasn't that bad, so I perused the rest. It seems to have a lot of "I was like this, I went through that, I am different now" stuff, a wee bit of "I'm sorry you are so full of old hurt, like a boil with a scab that if you bump it blows up and spills old wounds all over, I'm sorry you're not happier in life", some explanation of him disappearing, and actually some positive words about what he hopes to accomplish in his life in the future, including being a better dad than he was when I was a kid. So that is sort of cool, but does nothing to point out he has any realization that it is his NOW behaviour, not his past behaviour, that drives me insane. It is only when he says "why the hell are you defensive?" or "Why would you think I'd judge you?" that I bring up the examples from my childhood. Believe me I haven't been wallowing in childhood nastiness from him for a good 10-15 years now.

But you saw the examples of conversation with him now... imagine that for ten days, morning and night, work and play, and tell me you wouldn't be frustrated too. ack. "DID IT EVER OCCUR TO YOU THAT YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO IS FRUSTRATED BY ME??" he said three times in a row on the street corner, his face all screwed up in disgust like he wanted to puke on me, his body all hunched over. Um. No, it did not occur to me. shyster.

It is sort of interesting to see that he thinks I made it obvious I wanted him out of the house before I returned on Saturday afternoon. Interesting since it wasn't obvious to myself. I was in fact asking people about what hotels they recommended, intending to come back and find one to take him to in a taxi, to give him a copy of the Bear book I illustrated, and make plans to have brunch with him in a restaurant before he took the plane on Sunday. I just wanted him out of my hair so we'd stop having meltdowns with that TONE of voice he uses "oh, you're PERfect, you're PERfect" "You are ALWAYS right, I am wrong I am wrong, I'm sorry I'm not PERfect like you. I used to have to always be right like you". aACK.

I put a check and a ticket for the bus to the airport on his bed, and he took them and apparently didn't know where the bus left from (I think there is a phone # on the ticket) so he took a taxi (which charged him $36, which is weird cuz there is a $25 flat rate to the airport from downtown, and he gave the taxi driver the ticket and the difference in cash. And tried to get a standby plane ticket and ended up spending the whole night I think at the airport.

That shows ya what you'll get when you read everyone as totally rejecting you and taking a hissy fit. I wanted him to stay in a hotel, and would have accompanied him there, including finding one for him, and I assumed once there he'd enjoy the afternoon at the botanical gardens since he said "fine I'll go myself", and then get his first decent night's sleep, not being kept awake by me and the neighbors moving around all night, have a nice brunch and maybe shopping downtown Sunday morning... he didn't need to leave for the airport til 2:30 pm. But he left without saying goodbye. I just went to the coffeeshop to draw my comics page like every other afternoon he was here. He seems to have realized that wasn't my intention when he called his wife, and I had already called to see if he'd mentioned what hotel he'd booked into. Jeesh.

I just wish he'd realize it is his behaviour in the here and now (except for my general defensiveness about my housekeeping and upkeep of my building and yard, which is totally internalized in myself for inviting anyone into my life...that comes from my childhood training, but so does most people's comfort level with their home tidiness) that drives me to such frustration. I spoke with my friend l'Ecrivaine, and she said my father definitely seemed only engaged and animated when the conversation revolved around himself (uhuh),

and acted quite weird to always walk ahead of us, and even when we didn't have the dogs with us (he maintains he walked 50 feet ahead because the dogs leashes caught in his legs... I understand 5 feet ahead of the dogs but 50??). She wondered if he was homophobic since he seemed quite hostile. Ah, see it is not only me who thinks he was acting bizarre.

I mean really... any time he tells me my tone of voice is bugging him I am supposed to change it. But any time I tell him his tone of voice is bugging me, or what he says is so defensive and negative or uncalled for, then again it is me who is unable to deal with anyone who doesn't say exactly what I want them to say. No, ANY response other than defensive and attacking would be lovely and acceptable. hell. I hate to put yet another example, but here is the other wonderful sane conversation we had on Saturday... yes, that's right, in less than an hour, two insane conversations that ended up with snide sneering bitching at me about how I' m PERFECT and he's ALWAYS WRONG (yes that would be said in a sarcastic tone):

"So, what's on the agenda for this afternoon?"
"Well, the botanical gardens and the insectarium. But it isn't much of a rush since they're open til 9pm... i called. We just have to think about daylight"
"Mhhhmph"
"Oh, do you not want to go anymore?"
"What, wasn't my response "enthusiastic enough" for you?"
"There is no "enthusiastic enough for me"... you didn't sound so into it so I wondered if you weren't so thrilled about going..."
"Well, excuse me for not expressing enough enthusiasm for your tastes"
"Dad, it has nothing to do with "for my tastes"... I just want to do something with you that you want to do..."
"No, I wasn't enthusiastic enough for you. What do I have to do to be acceptably enthusiastic for you?"
"Dad, do you still want to go to the botanical gardens? It's normal that I wonder when you answer "mhhmph" in that tone of voice"
"WHAT tone of voice? I didn't have enough emotion for you? You want me to hop up and down and show enthusiasm? I'm sorry that I'm not perfect and answer the way you want me to answer. And anyways why the hell wouldn't I want to go? We've been talking about it all week!"
"But you could've changed your mind... you could not feel like it, or be tired, or want to finish a project... I dunno... you sounded like you might not want to go.. what's wrong with me checking in??"
"I'm sorry dear Wenchie if I don't always reply in the exact perfect way that you want me to reply. You really are going to have problems in your life if you get all upset and frustrated every time someone doesn't reply to you to some script you have in your head."
"Dad, you're doing it again! You didn't sound enthusiastic so I was just checking in so we could do what you wanted to do this afternoon"
"You're raising your voice again!"
(attempts to lower her voice)"Of course I'm raising my voice, I'm getting frustrated. My god, I didn't ask you to answer in any particular manner, I was CHECKING IN WITH HOW YOU FELT"
"You really are just a well of anger aren't you. You're just ready to go off at any moment. Look at you. The slightest thing and you are frustrated and shouting"
"Look Dad, I don't think I want to walk around the botanical gardens with you if it's gonna be like this"
"fine, i'll go by myself"
"ok, fine"....

So, will I write my father anytime soon? Maybe I'll contact him for Christmas.

By the way, for those wondering how I could be so unforgiving to my father at Thanksgiving no less when he was so lovely and nice to do all that work around the house for me (which in general, yes I appreciate)... please don't ask that. Some guy who walked by (actually rolled by on an electric wheelchair) said that to me today cuz he saw my dad working outside on my stairs on Saturday. Well, my dear dad who helps me out of the goodness of his heart actually gets paid to work, I gave him $600. Considering that at home he gets paid $1200 a month to do the same thing for a 50 plus unit apartment block, $600 and a stay in Montreal seems a pretty good payoff to me.

And I couldn't STOP him from working. He kept suggesting to do things I wanted to pay a contracter specialist to do. When we had a fight I came back and he'd totally sketched out my whole bathroom to scale and was busy deciding how to renovate the whole thing. Hello! that is MY bathroom, not yours. Please do not take over my bathroom. Stop. Now. I realize how much he is like my ex Mr. Black, who "helps" about three times as much as you desire and then gets resentful that you don't appreciate being indebted to him for his generous "help". Ack.

Isn't it boggling to see that every lover you've had is a replicant of your parents?? eek

Well, sorry folks, I wrote a fun entry last night about having coffee and sucking face with extract-guy and biting-girl from the Toronto Kink weekend on Sunday, but my puter froze and ate it. So you missed that and got another "damn, I perused the 9page fax" rant about dear Dad.

But he has improved, and seems to be still trying. I guess that's good.

night night,

Me, wenchie

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previous meanderings - future past

Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Taking Care of Your Cows - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Saint Joseph robs the cradle and eats spaghetti - Sunday, Jun. 14, 2009
sticky notes and broken irises - Friday, Jun. 12, 2009
The FOODCOMMANDER - Monday, Jun. 08, 2009

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