Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
It's Been a Long Time
I'm back after a long break, doing this for nothing other than self-clarification. This blog is no longer really meant to be consumed by an audience, though it's perfectly fine if people are interested in my ruminations. I once had a writing teacher who told the class that the vast majority of people in the world fail to realize that their lives just aren't that interesting. It's a lesson that's stuck with me...
Before I was six months old, my father was out the door for good. I never got to know him at all. I saw him maybe a dozen times over the next 35 years. Some of those visits were pretty freaky, and maybe I'll write them down at some point. A few years ago, a sister I barely knew I had called me from out of the blue to tell me that my father had died several years earlier of liver poisoning. The guy liked to drink. I think about this every night as I'm fixing myself a big vodka and cranberry, realizing that I need the drink to relax and feel free of all the low-level shit I have to deal with everyday...
My mom was/is a workaholic and a striver. She subordinated everything, including me, including my real sister, to her career. She says that the 60s passed her by and that she didn't even notice they were happening. This is true up to a point. She was not a beatnik or a hippie. She hates the sound of electric guitars. She never protested or joined any causes opposing the status quo. On the contrary, she was a conformist, singular focussed on money and achievement. Still, her soaring career success probably would not have occurred had it not been for feminism and evolving gender roles. So maybe it's more accurate to say that she was an unwitting product of the 60s, old enough to have one foot still planted in the 50s.
...This is where my family tree starts to get complicated. My mom met my non-biological dad before I was born. I think of him my real dad because he raised me as his son. I have reason to believe that the two of them were romantically involved while she was pregnant with me. She let it slip out once that he was at the hospital on my birthday while my biological father was nowhere to be found. I've tried on occasion to probe for details about the whole dynamic, but it''s uncomfortable and remains murky. She tends to paper over the messy details in her life. My biological father was rarely discussed when I was growing up. I got the unspoken message that he was a part of my life best forgotten.
I've always had a sense that there's something fundamentally wrong with me...
Before I was six months old, my father was out the door for good. I never got to know him at all. I saw him maybe a dozen times over the next 35 years. Some of those visits were pretty freaky, and maybe I'll write them down at some point. A few years ago, a sister I barely knew I had called me from out of the blue to tell me that my father had died several years earlier of liver poisoning. The guy liked to drink. I think about this every night as I'm fixing myself a big vodka and cranberry, realizing that I need the drink to relax and feel free of all the low-level shit I have to deal with everyday...
My mom was/is a workaholic and a striver. She subordinated everything, including me, including my real sister, to her career. She says that the 60s passed her by and that she didn't even notice they were happening. This is true up to a point. She was not a beatnik or a hippie. She hates the sound of electric guitars. She never protested or joined any causes opposing the status quo. On the contrary, she was a conformist, singular focussed on money and achievement. Still, her soaring career success probably would not have occurred had it not been for feminism and evolving gender roles. So maybe it's more accurate to say that she was an unwitting product of the 60s, old enough to have one foot still planted in the 50s.
...This is where my family tree starts to get complicated. My mom met my non-biological dad before I was born. I think of him my real dad because he raised me as his son. I have reason to believe that the two of them were romantically involved while she was pregnant with me. She let it slip out once that he was at the hospital on my birthday while my biological father was nowhere to be found. I've tried on occasion to probe for details about the whole dynamic, but it''s uncomfortable and remains murky. She tends to paper over the messy details in her life. My biological father was rarely discussed when I was growing up. I got the unspoken message that he was a part of my life best forgotten.
I've always had a sense that there's something fundamentally wrong with me...
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