The Father’s Day post.

Posted on June 19, 2013

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No, I did not come from a childhood-ruining family.

I did not lose my dad either. This is just one of those dad appreciation posts that everyone does on Father’s Day. And I’m doing this now because I don’t think we’ve ever expressed father-daughterly love publicly like ever. Must be the socially awkward trait that I inherited from him.

Anyway, the last picture I remember we had together was when I was nine. It was for my violin recital, as pictured. I remember him driving back to our house because I brought the wrong f-ing sheet music with me. Then I played in front of a crowd and stuff. That was also probably the last time I  had full bangs.

Aaah, dads. You just feel their love even if they don’t show it. You just feel it. Normally, we think that moms are more expressive when it comes to family love. Mine is. She’s the only extrovert in the family. My dad doesn’t say much, just like me. He’s not exactly sweet, but you know he loves you. I’m kind of like that too.

I guess there are sweet dads too, as in my friends’ dads. I browse through Facebook today and I see…chummy dad posts here, there, and everywhere. Sometimes I wish we were that chummy. But we’re not, and there’s nothing I can do about that. That’s just not us. I never took a wacky picture with my dad. We’d both be weirded out by that.

My mom tells me that I’m more like my dad. A slightly more firecracker version of him, thanks to my mom. But basically dad and I share the traits of a stereotypical nerd: quiet, unassuming, bookish, introverted. What can I say, I got awkward nerd DNA running through my veins because of the guy. He told me one time that he goes to the library everyday during his college days. I think we still have those books here. Mostly war books and some sort of Spanish anatomy book or something.

Something totally unrelated: the fact that both of my parents are in the medical profession still makes me wonder why the f*ck am I in journalism. And yes I’m still thinking about that now that I’m in my last year. WTF.

I remember buying him an expensive, glossy comic book about the “what-ifs” of the Marvel universe. That and a box of Krispy Kreme. I’ve never seen a happier twelve-year-old. Yes, my appreciation of the comic book universe comes from the guy.

But I guess our largest common denominator, our greatest binding force, is music. I owe him that. I’d forgive the near-sightedness and the social awkwardness. The awesome music taste, I’d definitely take any time. My mom told me once that dad used to play Sting or something while I was still a baby sleeping on his chest. I don’t know, mom probably played Michael Jackson or something while I was in the womb. I don’t know.

Anyway, I grew up listening to my dad’s music. I used to raid his blue cassette tape containers and see…hmm…The Beatles, The Kinks, The Cars, The Monkees, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin…those kind of stuff. He introduced me to Revolver and Magical Mystery Tour. Nirvana. Freaking Gorillaz and Blur. Oh, did I mention he used to be a bassist for some sort of college band? Yeah. We used to have an ancient heavy-ass bass lying around the house. I don’t know what happened to that anymore.

Music…and books. Oh man, books. I mentioned earlier that my mom thinks I’m a lot more like my dad. Books are the earliest evidence of that claim. I was probably the most bookish kid in the neighborhood. Anyway, I remember taking my dad’s books and not understanding sh*t. I tried reading his entire Tolkien treasures, and I gave up. Many times. Once when I was in third grade, then fifth, up until college. I just gave up.

I owe my dad for…my life. For bringing my costume to class when I was in grade school because I forgot it at home (that was very embarrassing now that I thought about it). For shelling out cash. For driving me to places. For many other things that I can’t remember. For being there.

These past few days my family has been fighting a bit. Home life is stressful. I would have greeted the guy but the family was still in semi-war zone. (Edit 2014: this was year ago. Things are boring-er now.)

So anyway, happy Father’s Day to my dad. The one guy in my life. The one guy who never gave up on me. And happy Father’s Day to all dads out there too.

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