I told you I had plans for my man yesterday, and so I dragged him away from the opening ceremony of the Olympics, and we went to a nearly abandoned cinema and watched “The Dark Knight Rises”. The cinema could house hundreds, but there were only a handful of people out.
After the film, we ate at a fast food restaurant, and then we drove home, and I finally allowed Mark to get stuck in with the Olympics. And he’s pretty much not moved from his spot since then. This morning he got up, and turned on the telly, and has been watching it since.
The only problem is that we can’t watch the Beeb from here, so he has to watch one of the Sports channels on cable instead, or try to get a good grasp of Swedish very quickly.
Batman was, as it always is, a special treat. I generally don’t like super-hero-films because they tend to focus on explosions rather than emotions. If you’re not emotionally involved with the umpteenth masked man, you don’t care much about whether he gets blown to smithereens or not.
Batman is special because of the nuance of the character. Is he crazy? A psycho? Could he just as well be a case to store in Gotham’s infamous asylum as The Joker or Harvey Dent? It’s a great illustration of what people decide to side with. One man’s evil can be another man’s heroism.
The new film wasn’t as strong as the last one, but it was still a good one. I try to avoid the word amazing, but it was that. It seemed more muted, more mundane, more emotionally involving.
We were supposed to go to a party today, but Maria is feeling unwell, so she has postponed it to next weekend, so we’ll have to figure out something to do – that doesn’t involve too much shouting at the telly when someone doesn’t live up to their athletic expectations.
On Tuesday Dad comes over and fetches me, and we’re going to spend the day together, without Mark. They don’t get along, those two, and I need to give Dad a tell-off for not telling me about the tumour thing.
I try to think of a time when we did anything together, just the two of us, and I can’t think of any. He’s never come to my concerts, and we’ve never gone of together to do stuff. So, it’s going to be weird. Will we really have anything to talk about? Or will it be a long monologue where Dad try to steer me onto a more correct and proper path of life.
I used to drop into a defensive stance whenever I talked to dad, but I’ve noticed that I don’t anymore. Let’s see if I can keep that trend going.
You get into ruts and habits with people, and then expect the ruts and habits to define your relationship with them. Then one day you see that your interactions are just that, ruts and habits, and you wonder why they’re there.
I don’t hate dad. I just don’t think we have much in common at all. I resent his influence over me sometimes, and wish it wasn’t there. Is it there anymore? Was it only there because I let it be there, and have I stopped being influenced?
I don’t know. We’ll see what happens on Tuesday, I guess. Wish me luck.