I have really contemplated this blog thing for a while now. I don't think I have anything really interesting to say, but I feel like yesterday would have been an AWESOME day to have a blog. Yesterday was harder than maths because I had eleventy bajillion things to say and all I wanted to do was call my dad and say them.
Picture this, if you will - I picked up the phone to call him at least three times and stopped myself, staring at the welcome screen on my cell as if I was expecting it to magically have a solution for me. Then I cried like an idiot because - hello! - No matter how many awesome features a cell phone might have, I assure you that it cannot call a dead person. Ever.
This concerns me an awful lot. Not because I was so determined to call someone who isn't alive anymore - in my line of work, its fairly normal to talk to dead people. Just NOT.ON.THE.PHONE. (I'm shaking my fists at the monitor for emphasis here). It concerns me mostly because I have kids of my own and I don't want them to grow up and need me forever. I want them to grow up and be functioning members of society wether I'm alive or not. I don't want to die and have my kids standing in their living room a year and a half later, punching my number into their phone and being absolutely SHOCKED to realize they're doing something insane. Its sad, and crazy, and desperate and a little bit stupid. That's the line I'm going to use to describe my blog, I've just decided.
This is the place where I will rant to my dad. I think its a little bit healthier than trying to get him to take my calls given how bad reception is when one is six feet underground encased in concrete, steel and wood. I'm calling it "Well, Goddamn" because that was his signature turn of phrase and I can't imagine talking to or about him without those words looming over everything. I set this thing to Public; Adult so anyone can view it but they get warned that there will probably be some offensive things here. Especially language. I say fuck a lot. A LOT.
Anyway, I think I've painted a clear enough picture for a first post so, here I go to preview and post.
You think it is strange to want to call him? I am knitting socks because as much as I know my dad loved me I also know I failed him because I was female. Yet we I told him I wanted to knit a sock he said "ugh turning heels... i don't think you could do that " Well you know what I did and it is lovely and I used to feel I knit to feel in touch with the women in my life... This fuzzy sock is dedicated to the relationship i had with my dad... sometimes strings and knots turn into something warm and comfy. Love you Dad!
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