Sunday, August 10, 2008

Fever Dream

I feel like it would be easier to fall in love with someone while you're listening to Iron and Wine. I always wish someone would sweep me off my feet to one of their songs.

My sister had her baby! The most beautiful child in the world.

My mom and I finally went head to head over the whole job thing. Looks like I have to give up some-well, most, actually- of my church activities and get a job at Subway or something. I feel like punching a wall or something every time I think about it. For the first time in my life I actually have direction, I feel passion for something. And who is there to stand in my way? My own mother. She still thinks this whole church thing is a phase, even though I haven't missed a Sunday in two years almost. I mean, I'm completely different person than I was before I started the whole 'church' thing. Can she not see that? Is she not happy about it? I just don't understand some times.

We were talking today about my father. You see, he's kind of a bum. He doesn't ever hold a steady job, complains about child support non-stop, and calls me spending the weekends with him "Getting his money's worth" as if I'm some sort of thing to be bought. It pisses me off so much when he starts to talk about money. Because I know when he's loaded and he's trying to hide it. Not that I care, he could be dirt poor and never pay child support and it would never make me any difference. I mean, the man taught me to play guitar and piano, taught me everything I know about music theory, bought me my first set of paints, encouraged my graphic design, freaked out over my drawings... I mean, he truly is a good guy. Like a nice uncle or great shop teacher or something. But a father figure... not quite.

Well, we were talking about how we think he signed over his parental rights to my half brother, Sam, whom I've only ever met twice and lives somewhere in Southern Missouri. We think he did this so he wouldn't have to pay child support. You see, in all truthfulness, my dad mostly sits at home with his weird art projects and never contributes anything to society. My mother's words, but they are true nonetheless.

And I started to wonder what it meant to contribute to society. I want to be a missionary, right? Well am I contributing to society when I go over to some third world country to try and improve lives? I would be forced to say no. Because I am removing myself completely from society. And then I decided that contributing to society really isn't that important. The World could use some contributions in a lot of areas, but today's American society? I think not. Really, in my eyes, what you contribute to yourself, those you love, and God is what matters. And my dad is not doing so to any of those but himself. And that is what makes me very very sad and angry. And a little scared for his sanity. No joke.

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