Saturday, November 6, 2010

An official notice of surrender

Dear Dad's "Worried Voice";
(Not to be confused with his normal voice, which is kind of awesome, mostly due to the fact that it can change a couple of octaves at a second's notice. Also not to be confused with the actual personality or being of Dad, in all its 6 foot 4 inch 210 pound glory).

Alright. We've done this tango before and I always lose without you realizing it. What am I supposed to do? You never let me accomplish my goal which is not surprising because you're a Dad voice that loves me and all that crap. It starts with a phone call, where you try to appear cheery and not tired and I try to avoid telling you how much the school situation sucks right now without actually...you know...lying or anything like that. But then you accost me with peppered questions here and there trying to determine the state of my education and graduation and paperwork and of course that silly nonsense called self preservation where I attempt to keep a tight hold on my sanity. I mean you have to give me credit: I do try as hard as possible because I hate when you show up--it's just that you are far too good at what you do, trying to look out for my well being and all.
We've both grown up in a family of shameless phlegmatics who do all kinds of things to try to protect each other. However we always tend to end up in this messy dance of trying to make life a little easier on each other that my mind becomes twisted quite easily. "Did you have a good day?" It sucked: I was slusheed at lunch, I bombed my Algebra test and I earned a detention when I punched this girl in the face for attempting to pants my brother. But I'm not going to tell you any of this because I don't want you to become anxious. "It was pretty good. yours?" It's not exactly a dishonest lifestyle. Just a weird one. Every family has they're quirks, after all, and its not like this happens every day the exact same way. Here, let me give you another example.
Friday= I receive really crappy news from the education department, slip up, and call mom crying.
Friday evening= You call in you're voice and tell me I should get coffee or ice cream or something, on dad.
Later Friday evening= I got get ice cream for the sole purpose of being able to tell you I got ice cream in order to feel better so you can feel better about me feeling better.
Yes. We are THAT family.
But it's not without justification. After all, I never sleep, and my dad, who comes from a long family line of heart problems and stress malfunctions, works 10 hours a day, doesn't like going on vacation and probably hasn't had a nap in the last ten years. Either way, fine. I'm waving the white flag, Worried Dad Voice. You win this time. But don't get used to it. I was totally serious about marrying a doctor and buying you a lake house. Don't think I won't.
Loooooooooove.
-Melinda

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