05.06.04 - 4:08 a.m.
daddy dearest

it's been awhile since i've written an entry with any kind of substance to it. heck, i don't really give a shit...but right now i've got something on my mind.

earlier today i wrote up one of those "101 things about me" type things, and it actually really made me think about some things that i haven't put much thought into lately.

for instance, my father. i haven't seen or spoken to the guy in 10 years. i don't really need him, but the situation still sucks...especially now that i live with my brother james who was actually raised by him.

people often ask me why i don't talk to my father, and to tell you the honest to goodness truth...i don't really know. all i DO know is that i never really liked him or had any kind of connection with him. many people have family members that they don't necessarily like but still tolerate. i can not tolerate him.

when i was kid and had to go to his house for the weekend or whatever (my parents were divorced by the time i was 5) i always remember behaving as though i had to impress someone. i was always on my best behavior...careful not to say the wrong thing or break something...almost like i feel when in the company of my boss or something. that's not love.

not to mention the fact that i remember him stealing my blanket from me. every little kid has their own special 'something', and mine was my blanket. i woke up one morning at his house to find it gone. it was quite traumatic at the time, but the thing that pisses me off the most now is that he had thrown it away...a childhood keepsake, if you will, thrown out in the trash like orange peels. who does that?

i also remember him talking about how he didn't like "kids", but i was his kid...so where the hell did that put me? and when he got remarried he never even told my brother and me. one day it was just "oh yeah, jill and i got married, but don't worry about us having kids". heck, i wouldn't have minded one bit...but i guess it didn't really matter.

i didn't talk to him much or spend time with him all through high school, and when i got kicked out of my mom's house at 18 he finally decided to call me. but he had ulterior motives...he was pissed off that i was living with my boyfriend at such a young age, even though i was only doing it temporarily and out of necessity, so he was trying to coherce me into living with him. my father lives out in the boondocks while my entire life was in milwaukee. he said he'd pay for me to go to school (but it would have to be some uw extension school out where he lives) and i wouldn't have to work or anything...AS LONG AS I LIVED WITH HIM.

here's a guy that i hardly knew, lived at least an hour away from anything and everything that i had anything to do with, and didn't know the slightest thing about WHO or WHAT i was. the way i saw it was that he just wanted to get his way...i already knew that he thought of my mom as a total failure, and i wasn't about to let him get me.

he had always talked poorly of my mom, but she was the one that ended up sacrificing more than he ever did. she used government assistance and went to school to be a nurse and worked AND still took care of 2 kids while he didn't even pay child support. heck, we hardly saw the guy the first few years after the divorce. granted, we spent many weekends with our grandparents, but that was so great and i wouldn't have had it any other way. i was so lucky to have grandparents that were alive and young enough to spend quality time with me...i never even missed my dad.

but the thing that always bites me in the ass to this day is the whole thing about me not calling him when he had a heart attack. ok, fine, a heart attack is serious...i understand this...but here's the deal...right after i turned 19 i had a serious injury at work and almost lost my foot. i was living on my own and needed all the help i could get considering the fact that i was out of work for awhile. did my good father ever call to see how i was? nope. so a month later when he had his heart attack at the ripe old age of 39 (while deer hunting, i might add), did i call him? absolutely not. i was young and insanely bitter...does that make it right? no, i know it doesn't...but the thing is he's not any better.

dammit, this all makes me sound so selfish and lame, but it's all so fucking hard to explain.

i just feel like everything he ever tried to do for me had conditions...but love for your kids shouldn't. to this day i get pissed off about little things like when james has car trouble and our dad takes care of it and it's no big deal. right now my car is dead in my alley because i can't afford a new one yet, but james has THREE cars to his name because our dad has connections like that. not to mention the fact that he's loaded and owns something like 8 classic mustangs that he restored himself.

it's all so ridiculous and petty. but to tell you the truth, i've gotten pretty darn used to not having a dad. and i like it this way. i just wish that things never would've gone this way though. i never wanted this.

oh yeah, my dad's a hardcore republican too. lifetime nra member...the whole nine. nothing spells M E S S like clashing political views.

one of my best friends from high school lost her father around the age of 12...she was very close to him despite the fact that her parents were divorced. through the years we've talked quite a bit about her dad and my dad, and i always feel so guilty and selfish about my situation. i always tell her how bad i feel that i actually HAVE a dad, but she lost her's who she loved so dearly. and you know what she always says? "nicki, i'd rather have wonderful memories of my dad who loved me more than anything than have someone who's still around that doesn't give two shits about me."

and i guess that's what it comes down to.

enough said.

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