Thursday, May 11, 2006

My dad and I had a big falling-out yesterday, in three parts.

The first occured as he and I were waiting in the lounge section of the student union for my sister to get done with work (we work in the same building that he manages the food service in). He was watching TV and I was chatting. I don't quite remember how I got called over, but it was something irrelevant. I went over, and he told me to sit down, meaning a long "discussion" was going to ensue. Here's the breakdown:

He tells me I'm going to have to go to a church camp my youth group is going to called "Super Summer". I obviously need say no more than the name and the fact that it's with the youth group. I tell him there's a music festival this summer, Cornerstone, that my older sister has told me I could go to with her and a group of her friends, and I'd rather go to that instead.

He tells me that I'm not going to spend the whole summer on the computer and that I need to get involved with the youth group. I tell him that going to the camp just to do something during the summer is not a logical decision, because that something is just a week of me being miserable, and I ask him why I need to get involved with the youth group.

He tells me I need to learn how to communicate with people and build relationships. I tell him that I'm perfectly capable of communicating, and I can do that and build relationships with whomever I choose if I ever feel that I want or need to. He doesn't believe me, and I ask him at what time I've ever actually needed to build a relationship in my life so far. He basically says "never", but in a half-assed, roundabout way, so that he can stick to his guns anyway. Somewhere or other in this, he throws out that the people I talk to online aren't "real" people.

He tells me I need to go out and do other stuff (he's never given me any really valid examples of "other stuff" to do), because it will harm me later in life if I don't. He gives me the example that if I never, for instance, learn to play baseball, when my son wants to go outside and play baseball, I won't be able to show him how. I tell him that both my brother and I have wanted to learn to play guitar, but my dad never learned. I asked him if he felt regretful about this, and of course he didn't, because we're able to learn through other, equally accessible routes. I tell him that this is an exact correlation with my future baseball-playin' son. He agrees, in order to seem like he's looking at both sides of this conversation, and proceeds to forget that he ever did.

It goes on like this, with him going into various issues, me telling him why he's wrong, and him moving on to keep the conversation away from his wrongs. Another hilight is my telling him that the computer is more than just a screen, but where I learn about various things I'd never know about without it, my main method of talking to friends both online and off, how I entertain myself, and where I flex my artistic muscle. He agrees again, but goes on to blatantly contradict himself on this many times and tries to forget anything I've said. So you get the gist.

About an hour later, he finally wraps it up with a "the bottom line is" argument that he knows I'm going down a path that will lead to me being miserable later in life, and that it's his duty as a parent to keep me from it. The debate is through, he turns the TV back on, and I go back to the glowy white screen where I stare hypnotized whiling away a childhood that could be better spent going out and relating to more people than I do at my high school, in which case I could be productively getting slammed on the weekends and date-raping chicks with makeup plastered liberally across their faces. Alas.

Thus ends Part One of the night.

My sister gets off work, and we go home, with my dad following after he runs a few errands. I was in the middle of a conversation with Kevin at the time, and he was in an immeasurably shittier situation than me, so I naturally decided to finish the conversation at home instead of cutting it off at the drop of a hat because it was taking place on the computer. (I was talking to Alan too, but we all know how much he matters. olololol). Dad gets home, sees me on the computer again, and explodes. I tell him I'm having a pretty serious conversation with a friend, and he asks me what it's about. I give him a look of surprise, and tell him I just told him it was serious and would rather keep it between me and Kevin. He explodes bigger-like, accuses me of respecting Kevin more than him (ironically, before this, that wasn't necessarily true). He keeps asking what we're talking about, says he's (Kevin) not a real person, that he doesn't care about me, and that for all I know he might be a "pedophilia" (side note: Kevin, are you a pedophilia? I'll be pretty disappointed if you are, man. >:O). By now I'm furious with him, but I've got enough self-control to not yell or make any smart-ass remarks. He goes on, yelling loudly and animatedly about how I didn't listen to anything he said before, and finally says how it does no good to even talk to me about it (a conclusion I had come to with him months ago). He storms off, I tell everyone I'm talking to that I have to go, and shut the computer just to avoid sending him into further tantrums. I was too pissed to do anything, so I just went into my room and went to bed. Thus, Part Two.

A little later, right as I was about to go to sleep, he comes back into my room and starts talking to me again, as I knew he would. No apologies from him, no, he just says most of the same things, but not so childishly this time, for another hour or so, trying to tack a guilt trip onto me in the process. But by now I'm not even listening. I'm just trying to decide if there's anything I can do to alter his point of view, or if I'm just going to have to wait it out until he changes by himself. If there is, it won't be through talking. I've tried that countless times before. He finally leaves, and I go to sleep. Fin.

I'd love to believe that he knows something I don't, and that I've got any reason, any at all, to change, but hours of conversation have taught me otherwise. My point in posting this, really, is that I'm not sure if it'll be a small turning point in my life or not. He's repeatedly said that he'll either let me choose to change my life, or he'll force it on me (not much of a choice, is it?). Unless he goes with his tendency and doesn't follow up on that once again, there's going to be a lot more friction between us in the coming two years after my sister leaves for college.
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