I think we all are born admiring our daddy, thinking everybody loves him. (Not that mine is "big and strong and handsome and is six feet tall" as Marilyn Monroe would say, he's just so kind and funny and daddyish.) Then one day you start to see how he's just as vulnerable and human as you are.
Last week we went shopping and I was shocked to see how slowly he was wandering through the aisles, occasionally stopping and looking at things on sale, randomly picking up things and putting them in the basket. I mean, he never did that. He always had a list and a plan. We bought four different kinds of chocolate bar, two jars of yoghurt, a packet of biscuits, come on, nothing serious here.
Last year he fainted at the office one day and spent a few days in hospital, with infusion and what not.
And today he was made redundant, or made leave or whatever. And I'm not speaking of someone weak and senile in his seventies, he was fifty last year, and still goes swimming, cycling, running, and what not each day. I guess the main reason they told him to go was the new management.
I could tell he was sad and disappointed (and perhaps even panicked) by the way he was speaking. And I wanted to assure him that it's okay, take it easy, I've been there. But have I? Come on, I'm 25, live with my Mum, and yeah, was looking for a job for like three months, maybe four, but how could I compare it to his situation in any way? He worked there for ten or fifteen years, I don't know. I can recall only one workplace before that. And he knew that this was coming because that's how things are going these days, but you cannot possibly go on thinking of it every day. So one day when you're relatively easy about it, turns out this is the day.
When I went to the orchestra session in the evening I felt so out-of-place I was just staring in front of me dizzily, murmuring the lyrics from "We are the champions" as if that would help in any way. I know he will come through it, only he sounded so scary on the phone. I know the times are coming when I will soothe him and encourage him just like a parent.
You see, I managed to turn it into my problem, then came the unstoppable flow of self-reflection and self-pity. When we had the break I was standing alone looking at the others chatting in small circles and felt just so out-of-place and tired and basically like shit. If I didn't feel like shit, I looked like it because I did aerobics and didn't have time to wash my hair afterwards because we talked for half an hour or so. And in that pathetic moment I thought of the title of a collection of stories by Richard Yates, called Eleven Kinds of Loneliness. First time I saw it I told myself man, I bet I know all of them, we are on first name basis. So then I started to recall the kinds of loneliness I'd come across.
First, the loneliness of a teacher who is looked at all the time, while on the other hand remains isolated. Then, the loneliness of an eager beaver, who is taken for granted in case you haven't done your homework, but is in all means ignored. And finally, that of the solist, who is relied upon in playing her part and at the same time exposed to blame if she screws up anything. And I can tell you I do screw up a lot of things, especially when I feel I'm under pressure.
By that time I was crouching on the floor like someone with a heavy stomachache or long-term depression. And then came the new saxophonist girl and walked confidently to the big circle, which had swallowed all the smaller ones now except for a couple. You see, she just walked there while I was being so pathetic again. And I realized I just don't walk up to people when I don't know what to say. When I'm afraid of being unwanted, not needed. Besides, those who don't bother walking up to me don't deserve getting to know. I now it's stupid and implies a severe superiority complex, but the fact that I have close friends and a loving boyfriend suggests that some do want to get to know me all by themselves.
How can anyone feel lonely in a crowd? How can a tree stand alone in a forest? The answer is that perhaps it's a different kind of tree. At least she thinks she's different, which brings us back to feeling superior and in fact to the story of Revolutionary Road, which I'm going to tell you in a later post. The other side is that I feel so insecure, and this often becomes a burden when I'm trying to play music or teach or get away with my life. From time to time I hoped it would evaporate one day, by losing my virginity, getting a degree, learning to drive, having kids, whatever. But frankly, now I think it's all in the mind, and it won't stop just because I reach a new chapter in the life textbook. Maybe it doesn't have to. I mean, even adults feel insecure sometimes, don't they? And I'm asking this as a child now, because I still don't feel like an adult. I may color my fingernails and wear high heels to look like an adult, but they don't bring me any closer to being an adult then a sticker on my forehead with the word "adult" would.
I just hope my children won't be weirdos. And at the same time I hope they won't be mainstream Eartheans, either.
P.S. You might want to read my poem about Dad. I tried to make an honest one despite the pathetic flowering around it. If you know me like I hope you do you will find out which one it is and understand it, too. My father doesn't usually understand my poems, so I don't show it to him any more.
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