2002-03-21 10:17 p.m. Well, here's the thing. I fully intend to bang out an entry just like this because I first saw this survey on her diary and thought it was pretty cool. But, the survey's gonna wait until later. I gotta talk first. Last night I talked to my dad for the first time in a couple of weeks. He and I are too much alike for our own good. We'll both get busy and forget about the other. Then we'll remember and immediatly get annoyed with the other for not keeping in better touch. Then we'll breakdown and call one another and chat it up. Then the cycle repeats. Healthy? No. But the point is, it had been some time since Dad and I had talked. He's been having some pretty significant financial trouble for about a year now. This I knew. It sucked. Hard. For him and the stepMomster and the girls (and in some ways for me - I didn't realize that my credit was partially intertwined with his. But that's an entry for another time. And that time is never.) things had been pretty rough. But, because the kin of CharmCity are a hardy folk, it seemed they were sucking it up and making the best of a bad situation. We knew he might eventually have to file for bankruptcy. That too would suck, but it would be for the best in the long run. Dad filed on Monday. Monday night, the stepMomster told him she wanted a divorce. Monday fucking night. He won't admit it, but I think he's taking it pretty hard. How could he not? Now, there's no love lost between the sM and I. He doesn't know and I don't think she does, but I've pretty much done nothing more than tolerate her for the last five years. I never thought she was quite right for Dad, but she was his wife you know? You don't tell a guy that kind of stuff about his wife - even if he is your Dad. So, I'm not too sad to see her go. But I am sad to see him alone. And I worry if he'll be ok. I worry if he can face all this financial crap alone. I wonder if he's crying, somewhere alone, right now. I wonder if he knows how very sorry I am. So, this Saturday, I'm driving into his house. I'll let myself in, be as cordial as I can to the sM, and toss my sleeping bag in a corner. I'll shove his ass out the door and into my car. We'll find the darkest, smokiest, rednecky bar we can find and we'll talk. We won't catch up, we won't chat. We'll talk. About whatever he wants to. I have overwhelming feelings of inadequacy. He's the teacher, I'm the student - that's how it should be; that's what feels right. This feels all...backwards. I mean, when he and Mom split, he was the one that made sure I was ok. Granted, I was 12 at the time, but now I have to be the one to make sure he's ok. I don't know how to do that. I don't know how to help him. But, you know what I do know how to do? Be angry. Angry at a woman who looked my Dad in the eyes and said what we now know was bullshit about richer and poorer till death do us part. Fuck you. Angry at a woman who has seen the bad times coming for a long long time now and chose the moment the storm was breaking to leave my Dad out in the rain. Fuck you. Angry at the lies she's told her daughters about things my Dad said. For the record, Dad would never, fuckingnotonyourlife GODDAM NEVER ask for the pets to be put to sleep because he couldn't have them. You know full well Dad is maybe the least selfish, animal loving man in the world. You're not right. In the head. What's that? Oh yeah; fuck you. And I'm angry that this will be my Dad's second divorce. And, although I have never chosen to know why he and Mom split, I know why he and the sM are. And it's not his fault. It's hers. She's abandoning him. My Dad. My DAD. To an empty house and a mountain of debt. Fuck her. I hate her. downtown----uptown leave me a note, fool!

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