Axver (axver) wrote,
Axver
axver

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I don't have an appropriate subject line.

I suppose some of you are wondering about my rather vague post last night. I don't feel like writing a long explanation right now; I don't have the energy to do it anyway. It's a topic I'm sick of writing about, something I didn't want to update about again. I think ... yes, this may just shed some light.

Some of you will have already seen the video for Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own. Besides being one of U2's best videos, there's one moment that really got me. Right at the start, there are notes handwritten by Bono. They read:

My father Bob worked in the Post Office by day and sang opera by night. We lived on the north side of Dublin in a place called Cedarwood Road. He had a lot of attitude. He gave some to me - and a voice. I wish I'd known him better.

I so nearly lost it. This is my version:

My father Douglas worked in the National Bank by day and tasted wine by night. We lived on the north side of Wellington in a place called Raumati Beach. He had a lot of attitude. He gave some to me - and debating talent. I wish I knew him better.

Dad phoned last night, and before speaking to me, he gave my poor mother the third degree. I'm really angry about this. My mother's been through enough with him, and it breaks my heart to hear her say things like "how did I make such a mistake?" and "the thing that really hurts me is that he's your father". He just has no grasp of reality at all. And he had the nerve to speak to me as if everything's fine. I sat down and spoke to Mum afterwards, and she relayed the details of the conversation. Essentially, he has lost all touch on reality. Apparently, the year I go to university makes all the difference. He is so against deferment that he refuses to offer me any help at all if I begin next year rather than this. His logic? Because he went straight to university, I should too. The man thinks that if he did it, that's how everyone should. He doesn't know or understand me. My mother had to remind him that I'm eighteen now, a young adult quite capable of making my own decisions, and that still didn't persuade him, he still thinks Mum should control my life and force me to go to university. And he is TOTALLY obsessed with money. He is vehemently opposed to my trip to the US, he thinks it's a waste of money, and he doesn't think I should have fun, he thinks I should be going straight to university. He doesn't want me to make my own decisions, choices I can be happy with.

I just don't understand. I'm thoroughly baffled. I don't know what I've done. Or haven't done. Why doesn't he trust me to make my own decisions? I'm starting to wonder if he feels threatened because he knows I'm more intelligent than he is and I'm becoming independent. But ... I just don't understand. All I wanted was to make my father proud. I want him to be proud of his boy. I don't know why he isn't. I don't know what more I have to do or what I have done wrong. I don't want to hurt him. I love him so much and I want to make him proud. Instead ... this is the situation.

We fight all the time
You and I, that's alright
We're the same soul
I don't need
I don't need to hear you say
That if we weren't so alike
You'd like me a whole lot more
[...]
And it's you when I look in the mirror
And it's you when I don't pick up the phone ...

- Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own

Thank you to everyone who realised something was wrong and offered support. It means a lot. Particular thanks to purplicious, for putting up with me so much. I hate this. I don't want to be a bother to anyone. And I hate this entry, because I feel like I've just written one of those silly whiny entries.

I've been listening to a loop of Smile, Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own, City Of Blinding Lights, and Miracle Drug, with a little bit of A Sort Of Homecoming and One Tree Hill (26 December 1989) thrown in for good measure. It's healing. I said something like this in a comment yesterday: Most bands make crap, some bands make music, U2 make healing and perfection.
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