measi's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Home. Thank God. The one on one with my father went horribly. So much so that if there would have been a late flight that night, or if I'd had a bit of extra money on me, I'd have left the house shortly after dinner-- either to grab a plane or get a hotel room. I don't plan on going home for a long, long time. It started off well enough. We went to the Rex, which is one of the older hotels in town that went up with the railroads in the late 1880's. It's a beautifully preserved Western Hotel-- complete with tin engraved ceiling tiles. I've been to the Rex with my dad several times during my life. It was a great place to go. We ordered drinks, and started chatting. It was honest enough... "So, Em, how are you?" he asked, emphasizing the "are" for truth. So I told him. I'm okay. I'm very happy with Erich, worn out at work, and in desperate need of a non-family vacation. But I was hanging in there. He then used that opening to begin criticizing me for the next two hours about my weight and how I need to lose the weight (this coming from the guy who's 5'9" and around 250... and has been for as many years as I can remember), my "dead end job," etc. I was absolutely humiliated by the end of the meal, and fighting to keep from crying since he wasn't exactly talking in hushed tones in the restaurant. While I did get a few words in edge-wise to try to steer the conversation to better things, or at least my concerns-- with him, with Anne, etc., I was sidetracked by random insults. The topper-- and only one I remember clearly because it was such a hellish meal was Dad saying that I was "a know-it-all, and because of that, I was very difficult to be friends with." He then proceeded to state how he was sick of it, my brother (who I talk to... once a year?) was sick of it, and on top of it... my MOM was sick of it. At that point, I retorted that it was interesting he said that, since he hadn't talked to her in three years. He quickly shut up. Of course, when I commented on that remark to JT and Tan this afternoon over 'ritas, they were both shocked at my dad's words, and also quick to countermand them. My dad doesn't know me at all. He has this image of the twelve or thirteen year old who *did* act like a know-it-all, but has never bothered to learn who I am as an adult. He just makes his assumptions, and decides to take any chance he can get to criticize me. I had a wonderful six hours of plane ride Friday to stew on his remarks during dinner. And I was SO thankful to get to my car and get into the traffic in Providence. One of these days, when I have some time to allow this to settle and step away from it a bit, my dad is going to get a letter that he probably won't like too much. But fuck it-- he needs to hear it, because after this past trip home, I question whether I ever want to go back again. ~ Mel. 9:54 a.m. - 29 December 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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