March 17 is St. Patrick’s Day. This year’s St. Patrick’s Day should be the most memorable ‘cos I went to the Irish pub with my friends to celebrate. I was astonished to see so many expatriates both outside and inside the pub. It gave me a feeling of being abroad in a world that totally doesn’t belong to me. I am not a party girl, but the celebration in the Irish pub on St. Patrick’s Day is an exception. Meanwhile, I was hoping to have one of my favorite drinks in order to get away from the downer of my life temporarily. Thanks to the dim lights in the pub, that nobody could see through me from my watery eyes. If not because my friends were around, I’d possibly have asked more stronger shots. Whenever thinking of the harsh comments from my dad, I will feel a stitch in my heart. It ached three days ago; it aches at this moment; and it will continue aching for an infinite period of time.
I remembered I once said to myself I would have my hair done whenever grave issue happened. I also remembered last time I had my hair permed. And this Saturday I had my hair trimmed. Yes I missed my long hair–it took me more than a year to keep that length. When I put on my glasses again, I saw the shorter hair cascaded on my shoulder. I know having my hair done is a way of venting. I also graduatelly understand by being so preoccupied with my work is a sign of evasion. Or let me put it nicely, only putting my heart and soul completely into work can I get a peace of mind. I don’t know the solution to the disagreement between dad and me; to handle a triangle emotional conflicts; to realize my further education dream in a long run. There are too many "I don’t know" pounding on my head in the past 100 hours. Too many to answer…
I didn’t find out until yesterday that the landlord wants my dad’s workshop back. Dad’s workshop is my birth place as well as mom’s. It has such a long history but sadly speaking, it doesn’t belong to my family. I am not sure if dad is in need of money right now so as to rent a better place as his workshop. Although he told us that we had a year’s time to return the workshop, I am still quite concerned about the financial problem–will dad be in need of money? I don’t know. Will dad need my help? I don’t know. Should I talk to him about it? I don’t know. I can sense that he and I are pretty much at the phase of "Cold War" right now.
Later today I chatted with my Mexican friend online. Then I realized how much I missed my friend, especially since he told me he would leave for Japan in this summer. Perhaps human being is just like that–when people or things are around us, we take them for granted and don’t know how to cherish them; but once we lost them, we were completely a lost soul. Well, I don’t think I have that strong "lost" feeling for my Mexican friend but I assume I have it for my dad. What for? Why do human beings quarrel over problems? I don’t know how to quarrel, as a matter of fact. However, I feel maimed in the verbal spar with dad. I feel vulnerable to save a relationship or even to resume a friendship.
Christ!!! Am I a failure as a daughter? Am I a failure as a friend? Am I a failure as an achiever?