So. I was informed tonight that I am a failure in my fathers eyes. I'm sure he feels this way for many reasons, but the reason tonight is because I "quit" dance as a second major in college. Oh gee... didn't realize that mattered to him. I had taken one semester of it my freshman year. And after struggling with college being brand new to me, commuting 4 hours round trip because we couldn't afford for me to live in the city, working part time and realizing that each dance class was only worth 1 credit and would take up much of my time to ever get a degree... and I was only doing it as a second major... kind of just for fun... I knew if I wanted to keep any sanity and do well in my major, I couldn't do dance. Oh well. I wasn't devastated. It wasn't something I had been involved in my whole life, not formally anyway. I was doing it for me, for fun, so why would anyone care if I didn't get a degree in it? No one should of. My dad, is just an ass.
The reason any of this was ever even brought up tonight, was because my father decided to get into a debate with my 13 year old sister about whether wearing shoes while learning to tumble was a good idea or not. My sister is learning it with shoes, because she is a cheerleader, hence the only reason she even tumbles. My dad, thinks she should learn it barefoot... because that is how people tumble. That is how he did it as a gymnast years and years ago. Learning to tumble with sneakers on, is like learning ballet with sneakers on, completely pointless.
Getting mad at the way he was talking to my sister, this is wear I stepped in and said "Uh not really Dad. Bad comparison. People do tumble in sneakers, cheerleaders for example, people however do not ever do ballet with sneakers on."
"How would you know, you've never done it"
Ok. So aside from that being the response of an 8 year old. And the fact that now he is arguing his own point. You don't have to have ever done ballet to know that it is not ever performed in sneakers... unless you do it for fun while you are out and about. On stage, you will not ever see the Nutcracker performed as a ballet in sneakers. It wouldn't be ballet.
Regardless, I answered him with "What? Ballet? Yes. I have."
In his argumentative tone "When you were nine doesn't count."
Getting frustrated with him, I said "I did it in college too..." and was about to tell him what I have just written, that one need not have done ballet to know it is never done in sneakers... when he said with such accusation and malice "Yeah? You mean when you quit?"
Bewildered that the conversation that was never a conversation, but rather a lecture, to my young sister about tumbling and shoes had turned to be about me not getting a degree in dance.
"You quit!" He proceeded to storm away to his bedroom and slam the door.
Really? Did that just happen?
"Yeah dad. I failed. I quit dance, which I had only done formally when I was 9 remember?! Big deal. Saved you money that you bitch about every chance you get for helping me get through college." He was already gone at this point... but I can't help myself.
The sad part is, that I had been writing to my best friend living over seas about how a friend of ours, had just lost her father in a sudden way last week, when this... conversation, altercation, confrontation occurred. It makes me sad, because I know that unlike my friend who lost her dad and is devastated, I would only be sad if it had been my father. Not devastated. I know that's not a nice thing to say... but it's the truth.
My father has provided for us, but only with snide remarks and complaints the whole way. He has cared for us, but only in that pat on the back "good job kid" way. He's not really ever been there the way you think a parent should. If I need money, I go to friends, never him. If I had known he'd hold paying for half my schooling over my head every chance he got, I never would have let him. I prefer to not have to ask him for anything... ever. I think we get an "I love you" maybe 3 times a year. And only two times in my life can I remember him actually having any emotion to it. He never knew how to be a good father. And I think he never cared to try either, that's the sad part.
So as I'm writing about a friends loss and how terribly sad the whole situation has been, my dad is getting into every argument he can while bringing up things that have nothing to do with anything being said and making everyone in the room feel like a piece of shit and that the way they choose to do things is totally wrong. And pointing out that some of us are failures. Even if we personally don't view it that way.
So much for death making people reflect on life and being thankful for what they have. Loving those around them and being extra appreciative.
It apparently makes my father think about... nothing.