This Christmas Eve yesterday started with me seething with rage, and dark threats about telling my dad to go fuck himself. I would also head back to the airport and go home.

Joe Wilson's Outburst
Photo credit: Truthout.org

A thousand-word angry-post almost made its way onto this blog, and I’m glad I only saved it as a draft instead of publishing it, because I should know better than to post in anger.

My bouts of emotion are not the common wry annoyance or mere outbursts. They are more like nuclear detonations that threaten to burn everything near the epicentre, me, to a crisp. Later, when I had calmed down again, I decided to stick that post in my black journal, the one I keep for my eyes only.

Luckily those ‘episodes’ don’t last long, and they mostly end up affecting only me. Thinking about the journals now reminded me of how angry I became when Maria’s then boyfriend Erik outed me to everyone in my life. I think that’s the most angry I’ve been in recent years. Mark keeps my volatile moods in tight reign, so I don’t get many opportunities to rage properly. Until yesterday.

Back then I upended my room into the hallway, and down the stairs, and some items made it as far as the front door downstairs. Then I had to spend hours or whatever setting things back. I don’t think anyone ever noticed my little detonation. My outburst doesn’t hurt anyone but me and my pride.

Yesterday was not nearly as bad as that day, and only resulted in a longish ranting screed filled with curse words directed toward dad. Why? Well, it’s because dad is being dad, and he slipped into a particularly annoying habit he used to have when I lived with my parents.

Airplane
Photo credit: banyek

I have travelled thousands of miles, and I sent Mark to his parents, and I did so at one of the biggest holidays of the year. All this just so I could spend some time with dad and so that I could meet his new girlfriend and get used to the idea of having her in the periphery of my life.

In the Scandinavian countries, the big Christmas day is the 24th, not the 25th. It is on Christmas Eve that families gather across Norway, Sweden and Denmark, as well as Finland and Iceland. Christmas Day is just a day for not moving from the spot you plop down in to digest whatever you stuffed yourself with the day before.

Except, yesterday, we were supposed to get together at ten in the morning and start there. Of course, that didn’t happen. Dad first rang and said he had been delayed at work. The fool had gone into work to fetch something, and then he’d stayed because obviously only he can do anything. Then we were supposed to meet at 2 pm. Only, no hint of dad at two. At two thirty he rings and apologised and says we’d have to meet at five.

So, I had travelled thousands of miles to be with them, and was stuck in a bland and stupid hotel room with over-expensive wi-fi. On Christmas Eve. Thankfully, I was not the only one that was angry, because Dad’s girlfriend was positively icy about this. I will not speculate about what went on after I left…

That first hour of Christmas Eve consisted of silent eating and eye-daggers from two people. Yay. But things got better, eventually, and the evening ended on the up. Dad and her gave me my presents, and that always makes me happy. 😀

See, why I think that Dad’s new woman is a keeper is the present she gave me. It was a copy of Alastor by Percy Bysshe Shelley. That is not something Dad could have told her to buy because… Dad doesn’t know anything about literature.

When one of his friends who is a linguist had a birthday, he rang me to ask what he should buy. I told him to buy Pepy’s diary. So, Dad could not be the source of the quite apt choice of this book. It wasn’t really a random choice either, because once she gave me the book, she asked questions about it.

The book wasn’t like a first edition or anything, and I suppose it wasn’t too expensive, but it seems more like a signal than a present. “I get you, whatever you might think. I’m no fool.” Or something. The problem is, of course, that Alastor is one of Shelley’s most obscure and feverish works, bordering on being incomprehensible. He wrote it, after all, when he had suffered a disease and thought he was going to die.

As for other presents, I also got money, some socks and clothes, sweets and a jumper. Dad also asked if we had decent computers, and while a new laptop would have been welcomed, we don’t need it. I have two decent ones, and Mark has one, and we have a desktop and two iPads. No, electronics aren’t something that we lack.

Today we’re supposed to meet again, and today Maria won’t be working so I’ll meet her and spend some time with her. I can’t wait. And if dad finds reason to go to work, again, I can tell him to fuck off and go and spend my remaining time here with Maria.

Unlike yesterday, I won’t spend the day sitting in the hotel room waiting for people to ring me and tell me they’re coming to fetch me.

Also, it was just bad waking up yesterday without Mark being there. You know, I’ve grown used to seeing his form next to me in bed when I wake up. Him not being there feels like a vacuum. Also, I spent three hours with him on the phone yesterday. He misses me. 😀

Advertisements