|From father to son, the blood runs thin ...
||[14 March 2004|01:13 pm]
|||||'Desire (20 November 1989)' by U2||]|
I confess. I'm scared. Why? Because I'm going to confront my father once and for all tonight. I'm not going to take his nonsense any more, and I'm going to wipe away his delusions about who I am and am not. This is going to take guts. He's really the only person I'm afraid of, and he's who I get my debating talent off. I've wondered what would've happened to him had he joined the debating rather than the soccer team at school. He's a very hard, firm arguer, so this isn't going to be easy. But basically, he's got to accept that I've grown up, I'm my own person, that going to NZ is a pointless waste of money, and I'm not the little boy he'd like to still think I am. I have my views on things, I'm nearly an adult, I'm under no obligation to visit him, and it's HIS fault he doesn't get to see me regularly.
So, uh, this won't be easy tonight. If he asks me if I want to come to New Zealand, I'm just going to tell him flat-out that I don't, and an argument will almost certainly develop. I've got to be ready for this, this will easily be the hardest 'debate' I've ever done, but I have to tell him the truth. I can't lie to him any more - besides the moral issues related to it, he needs to know the truth, and I'm sick of trying to weave stuff to make him stop asking me. I love my father, I really do, but love does not have to equate into seeing. I don't enjoy being at his house, it's dull and lifeless and I've done everything there possibly is to do around Wellington, and we do nothing there that we couldn't do over the phone. I just spend my time reading, wearing down the batteries in my discman, or being otherwise bored and counting down the days - sometimes hours and minutes - until I can come home. I don't want to waste my holidays there. We have thirteen days for Easter break this year, two are already taken up by the forty-hour walk, Dad will want me over for a week, and that leaves me with a pathetic four days to actually do my own thing during, and one of them will be recovering from the walk. Might as well not have a holiday! I'd get the four days anyway from weekends and ... gah, it's just stupid. I'm not going to NZ, I'm not, and Dad's just going to have to accept that. He can't make me go, and I'm not being guilt-tripped. Sorry Dad. I love you but ... no. I'll see you some other time.
On a happier note, two things;
1. Desire, 20 November 1989, Sydney is just AMAZING. Best Desire by a huge freakin' kilometre. Edge plays an awesome solo right at the end.
2. Tasha's inspired me to write to U2. So I shall. I don't know how, but I will, and it'll be good and great.
--- 4:10pm ---
Eeee, Lauren and I talked on the phone! It was such grandness! What fun! We so have to do that more often. Despite the impending doom of Dad calling me in about an hour, I'm still happy, because that phone call was such joy. Eee. I <3 Lauren. Yes, I less than three you. That made my week, it really did.
--- 6:13pm ---
Well, I've been off the phone from Dad for a little while and I have VERY GOOD NEWS to report. The call went really well, I derailed it and babbled on about nonsense, told him just how busy I am at school (the level of exaggeration is arguable, I feel), and gave the very distinct impression that I am going to be way too busy until winter, which is probably true. So he didn't ask me to go over to NZ and this pleases me. I didn't want him to bring the topic up in the first place. Now I'm forcing him to leave things really late and I'm just betting on the fact he simply won't ask. This should mean I'm safe. I'm so relieved. This will also allow us to discuss issues in a more mature setting than a phone argument. I hope.
I would just like to thank very muchly all those who prayed; I appreciate it.