Tuesday, August 05, 2003

Family Probs, Part One

I hate my parents. I really do. More specifically, I hate my father. It goes to show the level of someone’s understanding when they can’t understand what I am saying though I am speaking in clear English to them. Is it too much to ask to have an intellectual discussion with my dad’s friends? Just because they can’t understand it, doesn’t mean that I am speaking rubbish. Then again, my dad probably would not understand that. I wonder if he even understands the meaning of the word. No, my dad is from a family of people who speak good English. He knows the meaning of the word. I’m wondering whether he understands it.

My dad is of the opinion that teenagers and those who are still studying should not talk about world events. For one, they are still young and inexperienced. For another, what does it have to do with their studies? Well, excuse me for trying to see how I can make the world a better place. Excuse me for trying to stand out from the crowd. Excuse me for being born!

I’m studying in the media field. Generally that is known as the Communications field. I need to know what is going on in the world so I know how to communicate better with my peers. Furthermore, I’m aspiring to be a journalist. My need to know what is going on around me is even bigger. It’s a pity though, that his own experiences have coloured his mind. He has a closed mind. My father, open-minded? As long as it doesn’t concern his family.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not against fathers. I just see that mine has no mind at all. He refuses to see any way but his way, simply because he is certain that he is right. He hates those whose families are even slightly better off than ours because they are ‘spoiled little rich kids.’ If my father has one redeeming quality, I don’t see it. All I see is a man who can’t hold down a steady job, is determined to fault others for it, and thinks that staying home all the time is the best way to save money.

I know that there are a host of other issues that I have not brought up, but I intend to tackle them later when I am in a better state of mind and won’t bitch so much about. All I can say is this. My father should stop using the “I’m worried about your protection” excuse because I know that you’re not. All you’re worried about is how much money you’ll get from me when I start working permanently.


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