Haven't blogged for awhile. Well just a brief one, since my brain seems out of focus at the moment anyway.

Tonight things were quite ugly at home. We spent most of the time quite nicely, my girls and I. My dad riled badly when he got home. There's nothing unusual about it, except that his behaviour is occasionally unacceptable by any standards. The issues that get him angry, that see him throwing things at us, slapping us or hurling abusives (I can never make up my mind which is worse, the physical abuse or the mental one)... well despite the fact I sincerely believe in not fighting with him, and of accepting him the way he is... his "issues" just do not justify what he does. Many times it is "sound and fury, signifying nothing". The emptiness of that anger strikes me when he does.

I will not get bitter, I think I can do much better than that. But I must bear in mind two things, that firstly, as I wrote to an old teacher who asked me what my hopes and dreams were, I told him to do a service to this world that could make it better for the generations to come, to set up my own business, and the "extraordinarily mundane wish" of finding the right person, getting married and leading a quiet life. Issues like this harden that innocent wish: it makes me think ever so often, it's not possible is it? I must maintain both my naivety and my cynicism, that intricate balance, one way and I stand to be hurt, the other and I stand to lose myself.

And secondly, if I ever do have children, that violence is not the way to bring them up. True, it is effective: it is harsh fathers that seem to breed good daughters. But I do not do it with my girls, and I shall persevere in using it as a last resort. I cannot bear to hurt them, and mental abuse is no better. I do not want to be an example of what not to be to my children.