Friday, March 27, 2009
Some air went into my ear and got stuck;
I had to let it out, and for what it's worth, I hope it helps
By that what I mean to say is I suppose I have been thinking about a ton of things, and now's as good of a time to let them out.
At work we are having Movie Friday lately, some bonding thing the big boss lady decided upon. I'm not too thrilled about catching films, sitting around with these jokers, at least not while I could be using that couple hours extra in the office to do internship stuff, or school stuff, or just plain fuck around.
But today we watched The Pursuit of Happyness, one of those movies I hadn't gotten around to seeing, and I thought, well, what the hell.
As far as those cheesy, you can be anything, inspirational films ala Akeelah and the Bee, it's pretty high up there. It's also pretty awesome, and here's why.
It got me thinking about so much, I don't know where to begin, so I'll start with luck. If you guys have seen it, Chris, Will Smith's character, has got to have some of the best and worst luck of any character in any film, of any person, if there were such a person.
And what does he do with such luck, such a mixed bag of ups and downs on his journey to happiness? He takes the worst things and he pushes anyway; he busts his ass, and he somehow makes things work. And with the good luck, the best luck, he capitalizes on it by recognizing it and going with his gut and chasing it down.
He goes through some incredibly desperate times. It's one of those movies where you see the lows, and one of few where I could say I've never even been close to them. But from the fact that I'd never been there, the lowest a person could almost get while dangling on the slightest thread of hope and pursuing that, I could relate in remembering this mental space where I almost had been there.
And I think there's an almost Buddhist message, while certainly unintended, but something about the nature of the Universe. I know it's just a film, but the story came from a person, and these things were put in that script for something. The things put in that script are the things that make me think about luck, intention, hard work, perspective, goodness ... all basic principles that are so, so important.
Yet another wonderful thing about this and the main character is the use of both honesty and humor as a means to an end, as the best possible means to an end. The moments where his luck seems to heighten the most is when he is being himself.
I suppose all that, and watching his son in the film too, and thinking about how strong he would grow up to be, made me think of something tangible which I am reminded of at times by a familiar song.
Father of mine, tell me where have you been?
It's been years and that song doesn't sting as much as I used to. It's a pretty good song, man. You know what part I really feel and have always felt? The part when he sings, "Now I'm a grown man, with a child of my own" and something about how he'll never know the pain that he's known.
I feel that. I'm not a man, and I don't have any children, and I feel that. Take it or leave it.
I haven't written about my biological father very much. I have sometimes written about my stepdad, who I do consider my dad, the one I'm sure a couple of you have told me to cut some slack at least a couple of times.
I must say in my mind when the word "dad" comes up, it is not the one who gave me my blood that stands out. He's not the one I call on Father's Day. He's not the one taking care of my mother right now. He's not the one that is a grandfather to my niece and nephew. He's not the one who showed me once how a back-hoe works in the front yard! He's not the one who sat me down and gave me something to hope for, after my accident, after I had really lost my shit. He's not the one who drove me to school when I needed him to. He's not the one who has remained humble and held the same job for the last 15 years.
It's not even worth making comparisons, to tell the truth. I could say it much shorter by saying what he actually was. He was not there. Not physically, not financially, not emotionally. He was not even there in his own head. He has never owned up to his mistakes, never. He'll try to make amends on false pretenses, like that time he used to talk to us on the phone, except I wasn't allowed to know where he lived, because he was on the run, doing illegal things, nearly 21 years into my life even, nearly 18 years after making some of the biggest mistakes he ever made.
I understand that it is a sickness. I understand that he came from pain. But pain is a cycle, and it'll cycle in and out until you break it or you let it break you. I'm choosing the latter. I'm choosing the better life. I'm choosing the better future.
And yet another line from a song floats through my head: Death Cab for Cutie, "Styrofoam Plates" -- "he was a bastard in life, and a bastard in death."
And I can't help feeling that. Goddamn I feel that, but the crazy thing is that I've almost never in my life allowed myself to be angry about anything. Except that is not true, either, not completely. Do you know what I did with all my anger for years? I directed it onto myself. I expressed it in some of the choices I made, some of the mistakes I felt I was making on purpose many times, like the Fiona Apple song, except it never did help a damn thing.
And now, do you know what I just want to feel? The present. And nothing from the past. I want to block it out like an eclipse of the sun. Let it ride, get dark, get dawn again, and become a new day. A new era.
Because man or not, children or not, I am grown. I have grown past the point of ever needing him for anything that he wouldn't give me anyway ever again.
All he ever gave me was pain, and then hope, and then pain again. Darker, deeper, sharper pain that left scars upon scars.
The only reason I've held on this long is for the little secrets I keep to myself, the tiny, little memories, like remembering at one time in my life for a few short years, employing the word "daddy" with my clumsy, high, little girl voice, and remembering the affection I felt in using it. But the funny thing about the memory is that it is almost a fiction, because I can hear it, but I can't. I can remember it, but I can't.
There's a lot more I can say, except I'm not sure if I should have said so much in the first place. He doesn't deserve it, by any means, but I'm hoping this will in some ways be a catharsis.
He emailed me recently, like he has about once in the last six months or year or so for the last couple of years. He's always reaching out, but to take his hand would be like trying to step onto a broken ladder 55 stories in the air.
He tried to manipulate my feelings. He referenced the same feelings and some things I had mentioned in my songs. The ones I took down because I knew he was listening to them online, and all those songs were filled with pain, except it took me my whole life nearly to discover how much of that pain came from him. And he said, "Understanding. That's the word. Comes with ups and downs, Cara. You should know that."
But what he doesn't get, what he doesn't understand, and what he never will, is that I get it. I do understand. I understand that he is old and lonely and in pain because he has fucked off everyone and everything, and the only good thing he ever had in his life have been gone for many, many years. I understand that he thinks the world owes him something, that he never quite figured out how to own his life, really own it.
What I also understand is that one can't be rational with crazy people. There are crazy fucked up people in this world, and I know, and I have known some, and I almost could have become one of them, but you know what? It's in my blood and I still didn't because that's not me.
Because I'm a nice person, with integrity, and dreams. I have met challenges. I have withstood the strain of some hard fucking times, knowing things would get better, knowing one day things would change for the better, and I would eventually get there.
The thing about getting there is that it is not what you expect ever. I think I held onto the idea for too long that you can't give up on people. Or that you have to love unconditionally. That blood is thicker than water. That a sperm donor is a father. That people can change for the good.
Several things come out of this. One of the things about people changing is that they have to want to, and they have to do it on their own, and that it is not easy. Not the slightest. The other thing it has to do with is good and evil, two notions I've never put much stock in before and still even now use loosely. But what I mean is that regardless of actions, it's something in a person's heart or soul that makes one good, and you either have it, or you don't. And if you don't, that's some shit because it does not grow on trees. But the one thing about shit is that it smells, and I'm getting better and better at recognizing it with age.
So I suppose along with understanding all this, I have but one choice and that is to accept it. I am fortunate to know that I can accept it while standing right by me is someone who knows all of it, who understands all of it as best as he can, and one who loves me for it, who loves me for the fact that I climbed so hard to get to the top of this mountain of shit just to finally get a clear view of things and paint the sky with my eyes.
We are going to do it together, building a future, and healing a past, and I am more grateful for that then I can ever show, but I will spend the rest of my life showing him.
I had to let it out, and for what it's worth, I hope it helps
By that what I mean to say is I suppose I have been thinking about a ton of things, and now's as good of a time to let them out.
At work we are having Movie Friday lately, some bonding thing the big boss lady decided upon. I'm not too thrilled about catching films, sitting around with these jokers, at least not while I could be using that couple hours extra in the office to do internship stuff, or school stuff, or just plain fuck around.
But today we watched The Pursuit of Happyness, one of those movies I hadn't gotten around to seeing, and I thought, well, what the hell.
As far as those cheesy, you can be anything, inspirational films ala Akeelah and the Bee, it's pretty high up there. It's also pretty awesome, and here's why.
It got me thinking about so much, I don't know where to begin, so I'll start with luck. If you guys have seen it, Chris, Will Smith's character, has got to have some of the best and worst luck of any character in any film, of any person, if there were such a person.
And what does he do with such luck, such a mixed bag of ups and downs on his journey to happiness? He takes the worst things and he pushes anyway; he busts his ass, and he somehow makes things work. And with the good luck, the best luck, he capitalizes on it by recognizing it and going with his gut and chasing it down.
He goes through some incredibly desperate times. It's one of those movies where you see the lows, and one of few where I could say I've never even been close to them. But from the fact that I'd never been there, the lowest a person could almost get while dangling on the slightest thread of hope and pursuing that, I could relate in remembering this mental space where I almost had been there.
And I think there's an almost Buddhist message, while certainly unintended, but something about the nature of the Universe. I know it's just a film, but the story came from a person, and these things were put in that script for something. The things put in that script are the things that make me think about luck, intention, hard work, perspective, goodness ... all basic principles that are so, so important.
Yet another wonderful thing about this and the main character is the use of both honesty and humor as a means to an end, as the best possible means to an end. The moments where his luck seems to heighten the most is when he is being himself.
I suppose all that, and watching his son in the film too, and thinking about how strong he would grow up to be, made me think of something tangible which I am reminded of at times by a familiar song.
Father of mine, tell me where have you been?
It's been years and that song doesn't sting as much as I used to. It's a pretty good song, man. You know what part I really feel and have always felt? The part when he sings, "Now I'm a grown man, with a child of my own" and something about how he'll never know the pain that he's known.
I feel that. I'm not a man, and I don't have any children, and I feel that. Take it or leave it.
I haven't written about my biological father very much. I have sometimes written about my stepdad, who I do consider my dad, the one I'm sure a couple of you have told me to cut some slack at least a couple of times.
I must say in my mind when the word "dad" comes up, it is not the one who gave me my blood that stands out. He's not the one I call on Father's Day. He's not the one taking care of my mother right now. He's not the one that is a grandfather to my niece and nephew. He's not the one who showed me once how a back-hoe works in the front yard! He's not the one who sat me down and gave me something to hope for, after my accident, after I had really lost my shit. He's not the one who drove me to school when I needed him to. He's not the one who has remained humble and held the same job for the last 15 years.
It's not even worth making comparisons, to tell the truth. I could say it much shorter by saying what he actually was. He was not there. Not physically, not financially, not emotionally. He was not even there in his own head. He has never owned up to his mistakes, never. He'll try to make amends on false pretenses, like that time he used to talk to us on the phone, except I wasn't allowed to know where he lived, because he was on the run, doing illegal things, nearly 21 years into my life even, nearly 18 years after making some of the biggest mistakes he ever made.
I understand that it is a sickness. I understand that he came from pain. But pain is a cycle, and it'll cycle in and out until you break it or you let it break you. I'm choosing the latter. I'm choosing the better life. I'm choosing the better future.
And yet another line from a song floats through my head: Death Cab for Cutie, "Styrofoam Plates" -- "he was a bastard in life, and a bastard in death."
And I can't help feeling that. Goddamn I feel that, but the crazy thing is that I've almost never in my life allowed myself to be angry about anything. Except that is not true, either, not completely. Do you know what I did with all my anger for years? I directed it onto myself. I expressed it in some of the choices I made, some of the mistakes I felt I was making on purpose many times, like the Fiona Apple song, except it never did help a damn thing.
And now, do you know what I just want to feel? The present. And nothing from the past. I want to block it out like an eclipse of the sun. Let it ride, get dark, get dawn again, and become a new day. A new era.
Because man or not, children or not, I am grown. I have grown past the point of ever needing him for anything that he wouldn't give me anyway ever again.
All he ever gave me was pain, and then hope, and then pain again. Darker, deeper, sharper pain that left scars upon scars.
The only reason I've held on this long is for the little secrets I keep to myself, the tiny, little memories, like remembering at one time in my life for a few short years, employing the word "daddy" with my clumsy, high, little girl voice, and remembering the affection I felt in using it. But the funny thing about the memory is that it is almost a fiction, because I can hear it, but I can't. I can remember it, but I can't.
There's a lot more I can say, except I'm not sure if I should have said so much in the first place. He doesn't deserve it, by any means, but I'm hoping this will in some ways be a catharsis.
He emailed me recently, like he has about once in the last six months or year or so for the last couple of years. He's always reaching out, but to take his hand would be like trying to step onto a broken ladder 55 stories in the air.
He tried to manipulate my feelings. He referenced the same feelings and some things I had mentioned in my songs. The ones I took down because I knew he was listening to them online, and all those songs were filled with pain, except it took me my whole life nearly to discover how much of that pain came from him. And he said, "Understanding. That's the word. Comes with ups and downs, Cara. You should know that."
But what he doesn't get, what he doesn't understand, and what he never will, is that I get it. I do understand. I understand that he is old and lonely and in pain because he has fucked off everyone and everything, and the only good thing he ever had in his life have been gone for many, many years. I understand that he thinks the world owes him something, that he never quite figured out how to own his life, really own it.
What I also understand is that one can't be rational with crazy people. There are crazy fucked up people in this world, and I know, and I have known some, and I almost could have become one of them, but you know what? It's in my blood and I still didn't because that's not me.
Because I'm a nice person, with integrity, and dreams. I have met challenges. I have withstood the strain of some hard fucking times, knowing things would get better, knowing one day things would change for the better, and I would eventually get there.
The thing about getting there is that it is not what you expect ever. I think I held onto the idea for too long that you can't give up on people. Or that you have to love unconditionally. That blood is thicker than water. That a sperm donor is a father. That people can change for the good.
Several things come out of this. One of the things about people changing is that they have to want to, and they have to do it on their own, and that it is not easy. Not the slightest. The other thing it has to do with is good and evil, two notions I've never put much stock in before and still even now use loosely. But what I mean is that regardless of actions, it's something in a person's heart or soul that makes one good, and you either have it, or you don't. And if you don't, that's some shit because it does not grow on trees. But the one thing about shit is that it smells, and I'm getting better and better at recognizing it with age.
So I suppose along with understanding all this, I have but one choice and that is to accept it. I am fortunate to know that I can accept it while standing right by me is someone who knows all of it, who understands all of it as best as he can, and one who loves me for it, who loves me for the fact that I climbed so hard to get to the top of this mountain of shit just to finally get a clear view of things and paint the sky with my eyes.
We are going to do it together, building a future, and healing a past, and I am more grateful for that then I can ever show, but I will spend the rest of my life showing him.
Labels: Deadbeat Dads, Healing, Movies, Spirituality
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