Last night I went out to dinner with my Dad at this bistro down the road from where we live. It was mostly nice. It's a fairly new place, but there were a fair amount of people there, and there was even a man playing covers of classic rock songs. ("You can't always get what you want...")
I had fish, even though what I really wanted is steak. We have very little meat in our house. The caf spoiled me terribly, and I often find myself craving something higher in protein. This is especially ironic, since my Mom believes my lack of protein is why I have such terrible hair.
Mostly, my Dad talked to me about plans for the future. That's all anyone can talk to me about these days. It's sort of frustrating, since I'm already bored with my future.
He wants me to retake the GRE, since he thinks it's the best way I can guarantee getting into grad school. Maybe. I suspect it has less to do with me and more to do with money.
I noticed that one of the waiters was watching me from his seat at the bar. Seriously, boys, I can tell when someone is watching me and trying for me to not notice. Don't bother hiding it.
Showing posts with label Dad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dad. Show all posts
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Saturday, May 15, 2010
This Morning
I slept in today. Sleeping in at home is usually a bad idea. For whatever reason, my Mom looks down on sleeping in. I'm not sure why exactly, given that I don't have anywhere in particular to be today. But if she was home, she would taunt me about it, or, if she was in an especially bad mood, she'd pick a fight with me over it.
Which is why I was so pleased that she isn't home today. I can sleep in without drama.
Getting up was another matter. I went down to the kitchen, where my sister was eating. I scavenged around a bit. There's nothing to eat here. I should be more specific: there's nothing to eat here I haven't had twelve times already this week or isn't bad for me. So I'm often left wondering what I should eat. Skipping meals is bad for you, but I often find, despite my hunger, that there's nothing here I want to eat, and end up not eating. I go for the not eating.
Then I'm back up in my room, turning the computer on. And there's no internet. There's internet for everyone else in the house, but not me and my computer Stella. No. This would be too easy. I mess around with it for a minute. Nothing.
I just got a new device a few days ago that was suppose to make it so I could get internet easier. It was working perfectly for the last few days. My Dad asked how it was last night at dinner. "Great," I said. Should have knocked on wood. I went to go get my Dad and asked him to look at it, since if anything should happen to Stella when I'm using it, I'm in trouble. If anyone else messes it up, it's the universe's fault.
So I'm back downstairs in the kitchen, again, rummaging, looking for something to eat. Still nothing. I consider one of my usual techniques for not being hungry while at home: drinking water. It's the sort of terrible thing an anorexic does, but it gives me the brief allusion that I'm full. I go with it. As I'm opening the fridge, one of the magnets falls off the door and breaks.
That's it. It's official: today is crappy. I've been up for a whole nine minutes and I've gotten frustrated by three things already. Now you wonder why I hate being at home? My minimum for frustration at school is usually three hours.
My Dad comes down and asks if he can reboot the computer. Seriously? I could have done that. I thought about doing that, but considering how bad it is for Stella, I decided against it, because there must be some other way to fix the problem. "Don't you think it's bad that it has to be rebooted?" I ask him.
"Look, there's no other way to fix it. If you have a suggestion, I'd love to hear it."
Woha. That was uncalled for. I asked a question, one that, given the circumstances, is valid. Rebooting is not good for a computer. You should do it only in extreme circumstances. Like, you know, when there is no other way to fix something.
This is one of the things I really struggle with when it comes to my Dad. He doesn't take criticism at all, to the point where it's impossible to have a conversation with him, even a calm one, over a problem. As bad as I am with criticism, I am not nearly this bad. This is one of the ways I hope I am never like my Father. If you have a problem with him, you're stuck, because he'll never listen to you. He'll never consider that you might have feelings and that he is (unintentionally or not) stepping all over them.
He goes back upstairs to mess around with the computer, but has no luck with it, and gives up after ten minutes
Oh, and now I'm hungry again. Perfect.
Which is why I was so pleased that she isn't home today. I can sleep in without drama.
Getting up was another matter. I went down to the kitchen, where my sister was eating. I scavenged around a bit. There's nothing to eat here. I should be more specific: there's nothing to eat here I haven't had twelve times already this week or isn't bad for me. So I'm often left wondering what I should eat. Skipping meals is bad for you, but I often find, despite my hunger, that there's nothing here I want to eat, and end up not eating. I go for the not eating.
Then I'm back up in my room, turning the computer on. And there's no internet. There's internet for everyone else in the house, but not me and my computer Stella. No. This would be too easy. I mess around with it for a minute. Nothing.
I just got a new device a few days ago that was suppose to make it so I could get internet easier. It was working perfectly for the last few days. My Dad asked how it was last night at dinner. "Great," I said. Should have knocked on wood. I went to go get my Dad and asked him to look at it, since if anything should happen to Stella when I'm using it, I'm in trouble. If anyone else messes it up, it's the universe's fault.
So I'm back downstairs in the kitchen, again, rummaging, looking for something to eat. Still nothing. I consider one of my usual techniques for not being hungry while at home: drinking water. It's the sort of terrible thing an anorexic does, but it gives me the brief allusion that I'm full. I go with it. As I'm opening the fridge, one of the magnets falls off the door and breaks.
That's it. It's official: today is crappy. I've been up for a whole nine minutes and I've gotten frustrated by three things already. Now you wonder why I hate being at home? My minimum for frustration at school is usually three hours.
My Dad comes down and asks if he can reboot the computer. Seriously? I could have done that. I thought about doing that, but considering how bad it is for Stella, I decided against it, because there must be some other way to fix the problem. "Don't you think it's bad that it has to be rebooted?" I ask him.
"Look, there's no other way to fix it. If you have a suggestion, I'd love to hear it."
Woha. That was uncalled for. I asked a question, one that, given the circumstances, is valid. Rebooting is not good for a computer. You should do it only in extreme circumstances. Like, you know, when there is no other way to fix something.
This is one of the things I really struggle with when it comes to my Dad. He doesn't take criticism at all, to the point where it's impossible to have a conversation with him, even a calm one, over a problem. As bad as I am with criticism, I am not nearly this bad. This is one of the ways I hope I am never like my Father. If you have a problem with him, you're stuck, because he'll never listen to you. He'll never consider that you might have feelings and that he is (unintentionally or not) stepping all over them.
He goes back upstairs to mess around with the computer, but has no luck with it, and gives up after ten minutes
Oh, and now I'm hungry again. Perfect.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Wave at the Window
My Dad came and visited me today. I got up early and tidied my room up a bit first. I cleaned it about a week ago, so it's mostly nice looking, but I did things like made the bed, cleaned up all my Vernors bottles, and Febreezed the place. Last semester, my father gave me a ten minute warning before showing up at my place at 10 o'clock on a Saturday morning, and I scrambled to make the place look respectable. He came in, and noticing the bed, said "What? You can't make your bed?" I was still in my jim-jams and my hair was still as messy as an explosion in an umbrella factory. Thankfully, that did not happen today, because my Dad called last night.
Because I recently had my birthday, he also bought me presents. I was thinking, since I didn't come home for the holiday, that I wouldn't be getting anything. I got Lost season five, Mary, Queen of Scots, Anne of a Thousand Days, and a crucifix. Obviously, I loved all of it. I'm still watching Lost, though I sometimes find myself wondering why. And I'm a huge history nerd, so the two movies depicting Tudor royalty is totally awesome. (I actually saw Anne of a Thousand Days, but it was years ago; I was at most fifteen.) I also collect crucifixes, so having a new one is nice. It's not the sort of design I would pick out for myself. I kind of looks like something a Spanish conquistador would wear over his breast-plate, and thinking about it like that makes me like it. Also, I love gauche jewelry in general, so it was a good choice. (In fact, I want to decorate my future home/apartment with as much ticky-tact stuff as possible.) Is it tasteless? Then I'm in love. I was actually surprised I didn't get a book, given that I am a literature dork and that my Mom told me she had bought The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. I'm wondering, since she said she had enjoyed the first few chapters, if she decided to keep it for herself. If so, then I'm proud of myself, since the last time my Mom read a book it was while we were on a family vacation in 2002 and it was House of Sand and Fog. (Take a wild guess who gave her that suggestion.) If I accidentally got my Mom reading, then I can hold off on getting my book.
My Dad and I went out for lunch. We mostly talked about my Dad's new job. He's decided to go back to teaching. He's going to be teaching a science class for elementary education majors. He's already decided that the students are probably going to be idiots, even though he hasn't met them yet. (Sounds like most professors I love. They already have contempt for people.) He complained that he's not sure what kind of labs he can run, and asked for my lab books and notes. I almost certainly have something, since I'm a bit of a packrat, but they're probably at home, and I don't like to send people to dig through my stuff, since they might find something they're not suppose to.
He also complained that he doesn't like the way the lab classroom is set up (not enough safety stuff, only one exit). I told him about my evolution lab that I did when I was in basic biology. Basically, we had spread out four types of beans on a table and called then prey and used utensils as predators. We then had thirty second periods to "eat" (grab with utensil and deposit in a cup) the food, charting the kinds of beans that it was easiest for our utensils to eat, and watching predators and prey select on one another. My Dad thought this was a great idea, even though my labmates were not necessarily impressed by this "experiment." (I have to admit I wasn't either, if only because evolution already made sense to me.) But it's a good conceptual way to think about it, and it requires some activity.
We got some housekeeping stuff done (figured out graduation stuff, etc.) and then he decided to leave. My Dad is always trying to get out of here when he comes, since he hates driving at night.
When I was a little girl, every time one of my parents would leave, I would go run to one of the windows in the front of our house and wave to my parents as they drove away. When I came to college, I started doing a similar sort of thing, only this time waving from one of the door windows at the bottom of the stairwells. I did this again today, one of the last times. It' s a nice tradition. Sometimes I tear up a little, but I'm not even totally sure why.
Because I recently had my birthday, he also bought me presents. I was thinking, since I didn't come home for the holiday, that I wouldn't be getting anything. I got Lost season five, Mary, Queen of Scots, Anne of a Thousand Days, and a crucifix. Obviously, I loved all of it. I'm still watching Lost, though I sometimes find myself wondering why. And I'm a huge history nerd, so the two movies depicting Tudor royalty is totally awesome. (I actually saw Anne of a Thousand Days, but it was years ago; I was at most fifteen.) I also collect crucifixes, so having a new one is nice. It's not the sort of design I would pick out for myself. I kind of looks like something a Spanish conquistador would wear over his breast-plate, and thinking about it like that makes me like it. Also, I love gauche jewelry in general, so it was a good choice. (In fact, I want to decorate my future home/apartment with as much ticky-tact stuff as possible.) Is it tasteless? Then I'm in love. I was actually surprised I didn't get a book, given that I am a literature dork and that my Mom told me she had bought The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. I'm wondering, since she said she had enjoyed the first few chapters, if she decided to keep it for herself. If so, then I'm proud of myself, since the last time my Mom read a book it was while we were on a family vacation in 2002 and it was House of Sand and Fog. (Take a wild guess who gave her that suggestion.) If I accidentally got my Mom reading, then I can hold off on getting my book.
My Dad and I went out for lunch. We mostly talked about my Dad's new job. He's decided to go back to teaching. He's going to be teaching a science class for elementary education majors. He's already decided that the students are probably going to be idiots, even though he hasn't met them yet. (Sounds like most professors I love. They already have contempt for people.) He complained that he's not sure what kind of labs he can run, and asked for my lab books and notes. I almost certainly have something, since I'm a bit of a packrat, but they're probably at home, and I don't like to send people to dig through my stuff, since they might find something they're not suppose to.
He also complained that he doesn't like the way the lab classroom is set up (not enough safety stuff, only one exit). I told him about my evolution lab that I did when I was in basic biology. Basically, we had spread out four types of beans on a table and called then prey and used utensils as predators. We then had thirty second periods to "eat" (grab with utensil and deposit in a cup) the food, charting the kinds of beans that it was easiest for our utensils to eat, and watching predators and prey select on one another. My Dad thought this was a great idea, even though my labmates were not necessarily impressed by this "experiment." (I have to admit I wasn't either, if only because evolution already made sense to me.) But it's a good conceptual way to think about it, and it requires some activity.
We got some housekeeping stuff done (figured out graduation stuff, etc.) and then he decided to leave. My Dad is always trying to get out of here when he comes, since he hates driving at night.
When I was a little girl, every time one of my parents would leave, I would go run to one of the windows in the front of our house and wave to my parents as they drove away. When I came to college, I started doing a similar sort of thing, only this time waving from one of the door windows at the bottom of the stairwells. I did this again today, one of the last times. It' s a nice tradition. Sometimes I tear up a little, but I'm not even totally sure why.
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