Sunday, June 16, 2013

3741 Potato

Sunday, June 16, 2013

Whenever anyone says "theoretically", they really mean "not really". 
--Dave Parnas--


I normally would be very annoyed by the current fad for using "z" instead of "s" on the end of plural words, like "kidz".  I figure that at least it discourages those people from adding the superfluous apostrophe, like "kid's" as the plural form.

I am, however, very annoyed by PC people who insist that ALL rape is about power and coercion, that NO rape is about sex, ever.  Bullpoopy.  I want to slap them.  Some is absolutely about sex, about wanting something so badly that the perpetrator actually hears no objection, interprets all resistance as a game that he is expected to play to reach the goal.  Like the sex-want takes over his mind and everything is interpreted in a way to get him there.


 I was peeling a squash last night, using a potato peeler.  I was thinking about how easy it was, compared to using a knife.  Then I had one of those flashbacks.

Daughter says I hold onto stuff from my past, that I should just let it all go.  (This from the 37-year-old who tells me all the stuff I did wrong when she was a kid.)  It isn't that easy to let stuff go, because I never got what the shrinks call "closure".  These are things that formed me, made me what and who I am, and with most of it I never found out why, whether it was something about me, or the other person, or what, that caused it.  I never got apologies.  Apologies and/or explanations are very important.

There was something wrong with my father.  He liked to beat Mom and us kids.  We're talking beating to unconsciousness, and when I say "liked", I mean exactly that.  It wasn't loss of control in anger.  It was fun.  He looked for opportunities, and if none presented when he was in that mood, he created one.  Traps.

I was the dinner potato peeler in my teens.   I had to use a knife, and the peels had to be super thin, so no potato was wasted.  It was difficult and time consuming, using a steak, not paring, knife.  When I was done, he had to inspect the peels, and if there was too much white on them, I was punished.  The peels were little tiny nibbles.

One day I was at a neighbor's house, and the mother there was using this marvelous implement:

That evening, I told my father about this marvelous invention, that would make very thin peelings every time and save lots of time.  Zip zip and it's done!

He was furious and beat me for displaying my stupidity and laziness.  I would continue to use a knife, because that's the way it was supposed to be done.

Yes, I am still angry at his unfairness.  Yes, it still bothers me.  Yes, still, occasionally, I am overwhelmed by anger, anger that I am not allowed to express to anyone, and therefore can't release.

I guess that's what blogs are good for.  Maybe it's released now, a little bit? 


Becs said...

I hope so. And I hope it releases you more from the memories of this malevolent man.

There are times when I think of my own father and as painful as it was to be completely ignored (I wasn't even listed in his obituary), I know that it's better to have been ignored than to have faced this kind of terror.

the queen said...

Not allowed? He's dead. Hell, don't just express it, exaggerate it. Bastard

Anonymous said...

How horrifying - being subjected to a sadist and unable to escape. My heart bleeds for your childhood; yet am amazing by what an interesting and intelligent woman you became. Reminds me of a psychiatrist who said that you don't have to be a sh**ty adult just because you had a sh**ty childhood - you are living and lovely proof.

~~Silk said...

Thanks, Kris, for the pat. But you should meet my younger sisters. One died in her early 40s, but she was a sensitive and loving person. The other is absolutely charming and accomplished, a very positive person. I don't know how they did it.