I’m a laidback kind of guy. Not much bothers me (but in contrast, when something bothers me, then fucking mierda) so it’s pretty rare for me to be nervous, anxious or the like in any way other than in an excitable manner… except for when I’m with my dad. I’ve thought about this for a long time now, trying to figure out the source as to why I get so jumpy and paranoid around him and well, I guess it narrows down to the energy that an individual gives off that permeates the vicinity, and sinks into other people as consequence. Let me explain: the prime example of this is when we’re in the car, and he’s driving. I experience it almost every morning; my dad, cousin and I carpool to work every day and almost always my dad’s at the wheel because my cousin doesn’t have a license and I’m too sleepy in the mornings to even bother… My cousin doesn’t seem to mind, but I sure as hell do: This 52-year old man sporting a Homer Simpson haircut and an angry grimace that personally is one of the scariest things I will ever see, crouches all over the steering wheel of a run-down, 93 Galant, once a very pretty luxury car but now reduced to a dirty, whimpy hunk of parts strung together by a motor. Former heavyweight who lost almost 80 pounds in the span of 6 months thanks to the stellar dietary regimen spearheaded by my mom when he was diagnosed with abnormally high blood pressure, hypertension and respiratory difficulty, among other things, he’s still tense, his blood pressure still high and, this part’s my favorite… he’s as drastic as they come. I know where I took from regarding my affinity for rattling cages, as well as my tendency to do what I want and level everything in my sight to do it; this guy is fucking relentless.

I don’t know why, but at every intersection he honks a gazillion fucking times. If someone tries to cut him off he’ll throw the car at them and, yes, honk a gazillion fucking times. He throws himself with this car, a weak car since its heart is literally not big enough to handle the weight of the car, and he honks a gazillion fucking times. He’ll pass the intersection and keep honking. Sometimes I think he’ll run over people crossing the street because he wants to cut them off… so he honks at them, too. And for every single thing, for all of the instances I’ve just mentioned and many more he curses in the way a pessimist would. “Of COURSE it had to happen to me… what a tragedy. WHAT A TRAGEDY.” He’ll curse drivers who’ve gone ahead of him, those who want in on his line and for all of those instances he’ll honk and curse. He seriously bands on the center of the steering wheel having a field day with the horn, and sometimes he even laughs when he cause such an obnoxious ruckus. I have to admit that when it’s funny, it IS funny, but he’s so on edge and tense and negative when he’s on the wheel that it leaks on to me, so I get the same way and I hate it. Add to that, what’s on the radio. This man is immune to soothing music. I try to make it better for myself and I tune in on this radio station that plays 70’s oldies, and overall good “morning commute” music but he prefers to tune in to a news station with a show where it’s usually full of politicians screaming at each other over bullshit. I just close my eyes and try to tune out but I can’t since he’s too busy honking at the fucking planet for existing. I simply get so much negative energy from him… but I don’t think it’s his fault. I believe it’s the blood pressure, the hypertension and the like that makes him the way he is… that doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.

Ever had any experiences with obnoxious family members? There’s something about this man, I think it has to do with getting his approval, which itself is tied to how much I hate letting people down, a feeling tied to how much I like doing things on my own as well. That web I weave is a long and complex one, but I do know that there’s nothing that hits close to home more than when I argue with my dad. It’s usually over something silly, triggered by our shared mousetrap sensitivity. He knows his behavior annoys the hell out of me… in many was, he’s the antithesis of what I’m not. I’m relaxed, easygoing, laidback and ridiculously charming (heh), and he’s umm… He’s not courteous on the road. He’s as courteous as people expect him to be. He doesn’t care about the way the car looks, just as he doesn’t care how the dreadlocks sticking out of his nostrils look. And I haven’t invested in cleaning up the car and giving it a paintjob because in the back of my mind I know this man will not take care of it, just like he doesn’t take care of anything else you give him.

Gotta love him, though. He’s got a lot of problems, he’s flawed but he’s what I got. If it’s any consolation, I know I can’t be the only one with this kind of problem so that always helps. I could be worse off, I suppose… sure wish I could do something about that car, though.

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