Friday, December 13, 2002

College, grades, school... It seems like every time I see or talk to my dad that is what the conversation is about. We just made dinner together, and I was telling him about this thing I was doing on the computer. He went along with it for a minute or two, then said that a friend of his daughter just went to such and such a college in washington. She now works for microsoft and makes a bajillion dollars in computer design or something like that. But then he added "She said you need at least a 2.8 to even be considered to get in; lets hope you can get at least that. And really good scores on the SAT". It is friday, a day of relaxation when I get home. The last thing I want is for my dad to tell me how dumb I am. He does it just because he loves me he says. Fuck that. He just wants me to be himself. He wants his only son to be made in his own image, getting A's throughout school. Im not like him. I don't delight in making my teachers smile because I am such an angel. I don't find happiness in grades and accomplishment like he does. And I do not care anymore. He talks to me and it is in one ear and out the other. I dread talking to him now.