Post by Skytteflickan88 on Sept 6, 2008 7:25:56 GMT -5
EDIT- I've renamed this thread (formely known as the "What a glorious day"-thread) because I think we need a general complaint thread. It's kinda like the Pet Peeves thread, but we're more specific. We complain about our lives and misfortunates. I'll go first;
You know that moment when you realize that you're parents aren't perfect? I heard that for some, that moment never comes. For me, it came for the first time when I was a pre-teen and had stepped on my mom's last nerve.
Slap.
She's sorry of course, and it only happened every other half year, I think. not really someting I like to remember. Same with my calm dad. Sometimes my strong opinions about the world, injustice and how to raise me properly weren't that welcome.
I've had that moment of disapointment with mom and her rage (I swear, she's been going through menopause for half of my life) a lot of times. Fewer with my dad. But later in my teens, I found out that my dad can't stand the thought of two men kissing, or two women. And he speaks of the romans(gypsies) as if they're the root of criminality in our town. He really surprised me.
But apparently, there's a new low for him.
I wake up, someone's ringing the doorbell(I live in a apartment building, two apartments side to side on each floor). He comes into my room, says it's not our doorbell, it's our neighbor's. Later, worried again, he comes in, telling me that a lady has collapsed outside and there's people everywhere. I ask ”Ambulance?”, he says, ”Yes, someone's called”.
This happens past noon, but I'm not up yet. I lay listening to the TV, snoozing. I feel guilty, not running out. I begin to watch the TV instead, lying in bed, trying to get interested in the story. I feel guilty, goes up and out, look out the peeping hole in our door, seeing movement outside. I walk out on the other side of the apartment, to scared and nervous to actually walk out and say ”Hey, you need help?”.
I walk out on the balcony, see nothing, but I just heard an ambulance. I pace to my room, undo the blinds, see the ambulance outside. My conscious is cleared. But I want to cry.
”Dad, did they knock on our door?”
”Yes.”
”Why didn't you answer?”
”I was too late, they were gone.”
”So!?! What if they needed towels or something? And how did you know if they called the ambulance? ”
I can't remember the conversation that well, mostly my frustration and guilt. I only had to put on some clothes go and and offer my help. Sure, I'm afraid of making contact with new people but that was pathetic. And dad already had clothes on. Even after all his years as a security guard, was he scared too? Afraid to reach out?
I'm still glad that in my quilt I didn't bring up that time my mom spent breathing air into an old non-breathing guy's mouth, doing CPR, although his heart must have stopped beating a long time before. I wanted to tell dad that she was brave, not disgusted, she dared to reach out. That she was a better rolemodel than him.
But I didn't remind dad of that time. I didn't have the heart, or guts.
Because I know that we both are cowards. And we love each other still, fear or no fear.
That my fellow slayalivers, was how I started my day today, the 6th September of 2008.
What a glorious day.
You know that moment when you realize that you're parents aren't perfect? I heard that for some, that moment never comes. For me, it came for the first time when I was a pre-teen and had stepped on my mom's last nerve.
Slap.
She's sorry of course, and it only happened every other half year, I think. not really someting I like to remember. Same with my calm dad. Sometimes my strong opinions about the world, injustice and how to raise me properly weren't that welcome.
I've had that moment of disapointment with mom and her rage (I swear, she's been going through menopause for half of my life) a lot of times. Fewer with my dad. But later in my teens, I found out that my dad can't stand the thought of two men kissing, or two women. And he speaks of the romans(gypsies) as if they're the root of criminality in our town. He really surprised me.
But apparently, there's a new low for him.
I wake up, someone's ringing the doorbell(I live in a apartment building, two apartments side to side on each floor). He comes into my room, says it's not our doorbell, it's our neighbor's. Later, worried again, he comes in, telling me that a lady has collapsed outside and there's people everywhere. I ask ”Ambulance?”, he says, ”Yes, someone's called”.
This happens past noon, but I'm not up yet. I lay listening to the TV, snoozing. I feel guilty, not running out. I begin to watch the TV instead, lying in bed, trying to get interested in the story. I feel guilty, goes up and out, look out the peeping hole in our door, seeing movement outside. I walk out on the other side of the apartment, to scared and nervous to actually walk out and say ”Hey, you need help?”.
I walk out on the balcony, see nothing, but I just heard an ambulance. I pace to my room, undo the blinds, see the ambulance outside. My conscious is cleared. But I want to cry.
”Dad, did they knock on our door?”
”Yes.”
”Why didn't you answer?”
”I was too late, they were gone.”
”So!?! What if they needed towels or something? And how did you know if they called the ambulance? ”
I can't remember the conversation that well, mostly my frustration and guilt. I only had to put on some clothes go and and offer my help. Sure, I'm afraid of making contact with new people but that was pathetic. And dad already had clothes on. Even after all his years as a security guard, was he scared too? Afraid to reach out?
I'm still glad that in my quilt I didn't bring up that time my mom spent breathing air into an old non-breathing guy's mouth, doing CPR, although his heart must have stopped beating a long time before. I wanted to tell dad that she was brave, not disgusted, she dared to reach out. That she was a better rolemodel than him.
But I didn't remind dad of that time. I didn't have the heart, or guts.
Because I know that we both are cowards. And we love each other still, fear or no fear.
That my fellow slayalivers, was how I started my day today, the 6th September of 2008.
What a glorious day.
