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Ichabod!

A Physicist's Guide to Smoked Gouda

 

2002-12-10 3:49 p.m.

dear dad.

today i got a christmas card from you. aside from the standard "name," and "love dad & thyra", it said one thing. "we will be in the galapagos islands 'till dec. 23. the opportunity may never come again."

dont be surprised if the opportunity to spend time with your daughter never comes again, either.

do you remember leaving nasty phone messages on my answering machine, to the effect of "be careful when you close a door, they may lock behind you"? ITS A FUCKING TWO WAY STREET, BUDDY.

i hate you. i hate the fact that i resemble you. i hate that i have to be related to you, cause youd be pretty damn cool otherwise. if we didnt have obligations to each other, this wouldnt be such a problem.

you want to treat me like im entirely independent, and can take care of transporting myself. you know fucking well thats not true since MY van is parked in YOUR driveway, as you so thoughtfully emailed me pictures of it covered in snow. all i need from you is my van. when i asked you after thanksgiving if you could give me a ride at the end of the semester, you said it was a shame i didnt mention it a few days earlier so i could pick up the van on my way back from new jersey. well, i have to ask, why didnt you mention it a few days earlier, since you were the one who knew you were going to galapagos, not me? no, i dont suppose the thought crossed your mind that i might need a ride home with my stuff, even though thats the only way ive ever gotten my stuff home from school.

i dont ask for much, hell, i dont even ask you for money (esp since you keep telling me that you dont pay the part of my tuition you agreed to). i only make demands on you three times a year. moving out to school, going to camp, and coming home from school. youve let me down two out of three times so far now.

how is she getting to school? oh her? shes hitchhiking, hahaha!

and all i need is one key, one little piece of metal, and i wont need you for camp either.