Priority Use

My dad really likes to learn things. He's always reading about 10 books at one time. When I was little, he would always bring a book to whatever restaurant or movie theater we were headed to just in case, and it would drive me crazy. I never understood why he couldn't just talk to me should, god forbid, there be a moment when nothing was happening. One of our favorite things to do when I go home is to go to the bookstore. He and I can (and do) spend hours at the bookstore. He, picks something new agey, or something about psychology or health. I head right to the cookbook section to browse recipes for good ideas and we meet at the comfy chairs in the middle.

My dad will often call me from the bookstore and tell me about something interesting he just read, or a book he just saw. And then we'll talk about it and he'll tell me that next time we see each other he'll take me to the bookstore to see it myself.

Another bit of background: Every once in a while, my dad will decide that he was a bad father. And he'll tell me. He's not telling me to make me feel sorry for him, or to make me feel sorry for myself. He's just telling me. And then he'll reference some book that he read and we'll talk about how that makes me feel.

Okay, moving on: Yesterday morning, he called me when I was on my way to class to tell me about a fascinating book he had just found at Barnes and Noble. He's in New Jersey right now, on business, and he stopped off at the bookstore (they can't open too early, or stay open too late) on his drive to his meeting. He told me that he really wanted me to read it and that he would buy it for me if I said I would (he's always buying me books). I asked what was the book. He told me that it discussed children of divorced families. A little help connecting the dots: I am the child of a divorced family (sobs, please). He told me the basic philosophy of the book: children are supposed to be the center of a family, but when parents get divorced the parents become the center and, basically, the child gets screwed up. Okay, whatever. I'm game. I told him that I would read it and he told me that he would buy it. I think I made his day.

I figured that was that. But then, he asked for my address. He wanted me to read this book so badly that he was going to send it all the way to Chicago. He doesn't like the USPS, so, chances are, he'll even FedEX it. So basically, I'm 2-5 business days (depending on whether he uses ground or air) away from finding out how messed up I am.

Which brings me to my next point:

I'm pretty sure that on some level I have some serious issues. Or at least I should. My family is not particularly "normal." Yeah, I know. No one's family is "normal." But, believe me, on a scale of normalcy (10 being the most normal), my family ranks below zero. Let's just say I'm pretty good at hiding the family history. Or at least pretending it doesn't exist. But, this isn't really my point. My point is that I don't really think I'm that messed up, perhaps not as messed up as I could be. Truth be told, I actually feel pretty okay at least 76% of the time. Admittedly, I'm pretty good at making things not exist, so I'm sure there's something wrong somewhere. But I'm sure my shrink can fix it all should I ever decide to get one. Okay, but this still isn't my point. My point is, that when my dad gives me all of these things to read--all of these things which are supposed to make me better, happier, I ponder. Am I not good? Am I unhappy? I'm sure that the fact that I even wonder these things points to something unresolved. I just can't quite put my finger on it.

Well, now I really must go read my hilarious book. I have to finish it in 2-5 business days (Saturday's included), in time to be fixed. Even though I don't really feel all that broken.