Did I disappoint Dad?
He never says so directly,
But the hints are in his hopes:
"Why don't you get a car?
You can't live on minimum wage...
You are capable of so much more..."
He wants the best for me,
And he knows I can do so much better;
He's stuck by my side
In some truly tough situations.
So, I get wrapped up in guilt
About my slacker lifestyle...
"No whining" was a slogan he had
On a placard hanging on a wall,
And it is so appropriate.
Don't wish for a better job,
Or more mental stability,
If I'm not going to take the steps
To leave my "local happiness maximum".
Some people spite their parents
From futile teen feuds.
Not I, though... some times,
I think my teen years were happy years.
Dad went to bat for me,
And my school finally recognized
Academic excellence,
Through awarding me
The first letter jacket therein.
...
I just want to scream,
"How did I accumulate
This Karmic crap of a life?!?"
Experience says,
"It's because you're easily distracted."
Even now...
If I can't finish this poem
In five minutes flat,
Then it's an epic failure.
Faced with doubt on which direction
To lead it, I slide into commentary -
"OK, whining..." -
And in my heart, I feel that's a cop out,
Detracting rather than adding
To the punch of the poem.
...
I spent a summer working with my Dad,
In the high-tech industry -
He was Elder Bean, and I was Chick Pea,
And my brother got to be known as Garbanzo.
It was a fun job, and I learned some technical skills,
And Dad would pick up my lunch tab,
When going out for lunch was the engineers' wills.
My brother pegged my Dad's gift to his sons
One Christmas, with a hand-crafted set of puzzle blocks.
Our childhood had been liberally sprinkled
With games and puzzles and science magazines,
And we were probably the first kids to play with PC's...
My Dad is an engineer, and he succeeded
At passing on that love of "how things work".
When I tried to take myself out,
With a month's worth of Depakote pills;
My Dad sat by my bed side,
Through the month of coma and recovery.
We talked it out, and really tried
To understand why I did what I did.
Actually, my Dad spent many a night
Over the next ten years, treating us
To dinner and a movie, once a week.
...
Chronological order at play,
Or should it be a buildup of impacts?
I think I meta-write these comments,
If ever I make it back to do edits...
...
When I was running through the mental hospitals,
For the fourth time,
I could not comprehend my Dad
Telling me that he might have to cut off contact -
Because He'd always been by my side.
Heck, the first time in the hospitals,
He was the one who convinced me to go in.
I trust my Dad, when I can not always trust myself.
So, when it sounds like my Dad does not approve,
I die a little death,
A realization that I am not doing the best that I can;
And maybe it's time to get off of the couch and move...
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