The thought occurred to me today: I have become my dad as he was when I first remembered him.
This isn't a brutal revelation, I'm well aware that I have been slowly becoming a younger version of my father (with a few differences). The big things are easy, and have been there for a long time:
we both are quiet most of the time (me less so)
both of us have the exact same sense of humor (as did his dad I suspect)
both of us prefer independence and solitude,
both of us work as often as we can(or have at some point).
But the big difference has always been emotion. The family legend goes that my dad was as emotional as I was when he was younger. It is impossible to verify given that the only people I could interview on the subject are either dead or were too self involved at the time to give insight.
His defining characteristic is pragmatism. I swear he is the most pragmatic man not only that I have ever met, but that I have ever heard of. Even so called legends of calm have moments of public anger, sadness or tenderness. My dad doesn't. Which isn't to say he isn't very sweet, it just isn't emotional. I suppose I would describe it as dutiful, but not in a drudgery.
The insight I had is that I have become more and more pragmatic, and it has nothing to do with a lack of feeling. The past year has been defining in the manner of how I handle pain. I box it up, I deal, and I move on. In addition I have been less passionate about what I care about for the last few years. I mean I went from a relative Casanova to Owen from Gargoyles. Owen is actually a good analogy, because I understand the potential to passion still lives in me. The magic is still there. It is far removed from who I am and how I think.
So I've come to the conclusion that it is likely part of the cycle of change and maturity that the last 5 years have been full of.
I don't miss who I was. The passions I had then seem like a drug fueled craze. I think about my former adventures in romance, and I enjoy thinking of them as that. Just it doesn't seem like something I would do. I think of my ex wife, and in a stony nonfeeling way I think about how I felt on top of the world for a few years. It was a high I haven't topped, because my highest highs don't get topped, I just find new thrills. Then I think about what a mistake it was. How I let..... hormones and bad logic trick me into throwing away a free college degree, and buying a really unfortunate car.
I think about.... others. Most of them through a haze of drugged sleep and the buzz that lasted a few years. I even think about the mistaken young obsession that I wasted about 9 solid months and took me three years to clear from my head.
It didn't happen to me, not the me I am now. I've died to myself so many times, I don't even know what I am anymore. It doesn't feel human, humans react.
But it has value, if only that I better understand the passions and drives of the man who raised me.
This isn't a brutal revelation, I'm well aware that I have been slowly becoming a younger version of my father (with a few differences). The big things are easy, and have been there for a long time:
we both are quiet most of the time (me less so)
both of us have the exact same sense of humor (as did his dad I suspect)
both of us prefer independence and solitude,
both of us work as often as we can(or have at some point).
But the big difference has always been emotion. The family legend goes that my dad was as emotional as I was when he was younger. It is impossible to verify given that the only people I could interview on the subject are either dead or were too self involved at the time to give insight.
His defining characteristic is pragmatism. I swear he is the most pragmatic man not only that I have ever met, but that I have ever heard of. Even so called legends of calm have moments of public anger, sadness or tenderness. My dad doesn't. Which isn't to say he isn't very sweet, it just isn't emotional. I suppose I would describe it as dutiful, but not in a drudgery.
The insight I had is that I have become more and more pragmatic, and it has nothing to do with a lack of feeling. The past year has been defining in the manner of how I handle pain. I box it up, I deal, and I move on. In addition I have been less passionate about what I care about for the last few years. I mean I went from a relative Casanova to Owen from Gargoyles. Owen is actually a good analogy, because I understand the potential to passion still lives in me. The magic is still there. It is far removed from who I am and how I think.
So I've come to the conclusion that it is likely part of the cycle of change and maturity that the last 5 years have been full of.
I don't miss who I was. The passions I had then seem like a drug fueled craze. I think about my former adventures in romance, and I enjoy thinking of them as that. Just it doesn't seem like something I would do. I think of my ex wife, and in a stony nonfeeling way I think about how I felt on top of the world for a few years. It was a high I haven't topped, because my highest highs don't get topped, I just find new thrills. Then I think about what a mistake it was. How I let..... hormones and bad logic trick me into throwing away a free college degree, and buying a really unfortunate car.
I think about.... others. Most of them through a haze of drugged sleep and the buzz that lasted a few years. I even think about the mistaken young obsession that I wasted about 9 solid months and took me three years to clear from my head.
It didn't happen to me, not the me I am now. I've died to myself so many times, I don't even know what I am anymore. It doesn't feel human, humans react.
But it has value, if only that I better understand the passions and drives of the man who raised me.
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