Saw my dad for lunch today (yesterday technically, but I’m still awake). I just realized that he didn’t ask me a single thing about my life. I made all the conversation, asked all the questions. Apparently, he’s completely uninterested. Ouch.
Interesting, though, since I’d kinda been blaming our lack of relationship on my shortcomings as a correspondent. Since I’ve tended to lose contact with people not in my immediate sphere, I’ve blamed that tendency for the withering of various relationships, including with him. But now it occurs to me that he’s partly responsible as well. Perhaps that should have been obvious (& would have been to anyone else), but it’s a bit surprising to me. I’d had this story (mostly from my stepmother) that he’d tried really hard to keep a strong relationship with all us kids from set 1, but I suddenly don’t quite believe that. On one level, I never did, since I’ve seen my sisters’ relationships with him; but now I’m applying that to myself. I’m not yet sure what that means for a possibility of reality in our relationship, or for my desire to find that either.
Changing topics… Briana told me tonight, in regards to lovers, that I’m too picky, that there were lots of people that wanted to be with me & I keep not wanting them. My retort was, “what, I’m too picky because I want to be with someone I can relate to?” But perhaps I’m expecting too much from brand-new relationships, wanting devouring immersion from someone w(h)etting their toes & appetite.
Tomorrow (today), assuming I ever get to sleep & am not too deathly ill (contingent on sleep at this point), I’ll go to the school where my pal Sarah Ferholt teaches music & teach a bunch of her special-ed kids how to put a clarinet in their mouths. First time for any of them, & of course several really wanted saxophones instead….