I had a long uneventful weekend as always. Except this weekend did not go as I had hoped it would. I had a song in my head when I went home this weekend. It seemingly follows me home every time I go home too, like the weather is for some people, like when weather follows a person from town to city, to city to state. This song seems to place itself in my head like an unwanted visitor..silent but unwanted. It crawls into my head unknowingly to me and it stays there. Up until this weekend I never knew the name of the song or sang it...the only clue I had to it was that it was by Peter Gabriel...I was wrong. It's by Mike and the Mechanics and It's called "The Living Years". (If you want to watch the video go here.) I'm almost positive that every human being has heard this song whether they know it or not. It's an amazing song about a father and son, and how the son never had enough time to tell his father all the the things he needed to say. If anyone who reads this has read my previous blogs you will know how much I worry about my father and I worry about how much longer my father will be alive. I've never been afraid to tell my dad what's on my mind, but there are things I wish I could tell him, in a way that he would understand. There are sometimes where he just doesn't listen and it becomes such a battle to talk to him. The biggest problem with my dad is that he has a certain duality to him, that he can be completely calm one second and flip out the next. It seems that both of my parents have this problem. They don't realize that this is the bitterness and stupidity that has ruined our relationship. I try so hard sometimes to love my parents, but they make it so hard to love them. I yell at them a lot and they yell at me and nothing gets resolved we just scream. I think they get frustrated because none of us know what the other is trying to say, because none of us have the ability to say something clearly. I think because of this we've all pushed each other away and we've all tried to go our separate ways, the only problem is we live with each other. I love my father to death but he has so many bad habits. He isolates himself from the rest of the world and I don't know how to break his shell. Ever since his dad died he's been so cold. I think my dad has the living years problem, he never got to tell his father everything he needed to. I remember the night my grandfather died. My uncle who is a large burly man called us and told me to give the phone to my dad, my uncle was crying. My dad did not cry at all. I remember playing Toy Story 2 for the N64 and my dad just came up and sat down next to me Indian Style and all and he just talked to me and the saddest part was that he was trying to hold back the tears. I stopped playing and I just gave him a huge hug. I love my father because of the fact that even though he rarely praises me to my face he tells everyone else what a wonderful kid I am, and I think that's why I love him the most. I love him because he tries to hide how much he's proud of me by telling other people how proud he is of me. I don't think I could be any happier with that.
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I seriously wonder about people some times. Like why my aunts at every holiday find it acceptable to get completely wasted at a family party. What the hell is that? Why do people feel it is acceptable at every holiday to get drunk and just ruin a good family party because they don't know the meaning of the word "family"? I hate to say this, I really do because some of my cousins are really great people, but my family sucks. My cousin Craig whose mom is the biggest drunk at the family parties must embarrass the hell out of him. My other cousin Zina(yes,pronounced like Xena warrior princess.) her aunt has the most obnoxious laugh and the strangest sense of humor and honestly my dad hates her. I don't mind her so much, but she has a real tendency to be annoying. My aunt Noreen has no children, but has two Sheltie dogs and she treats them like real people. The weirder thing is she asks everyone if they think her dogs are cute...what the fuck kind of question is that??? Who cares? It's a fucking dog, it's not like it's the ugliest thing that ever walked the earth. In fact, they are probably two of the cutest dogs I've seen, but in any case my aunt is a weird one. I'm just glad my aunt Barb wasn't there...sweet Jesus, that's a whole nother story. I really hate going to family parties because my mom is always a bitch right before we go, then she's a bitch when we get there....oye.
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I'm glad I was able to fight my way out of not going to church today. I hate going to church, it's so pointless. I don't feel any better when I leave, if anything I feel worse because some guy just preached at me for an hour about how horrible of a person I am. Shit...I think I might just become a Buddhist. I might be a little to angry for it, but hell who knows, maybe I'll find my center, my chi. Who knows? But for now I must simply hope and pray that I find some guidance in my life (ironic isn't it?).
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