The Clamicidal Maniac has been driving on me to get a response to her posts of 12-6 and 12-10-09, and I'm determined to get some sort of response out there. While I would like to thank her for her spectacular efforts, I talk to her so frequently that I don't know why I need to post my reactions to her posts. Whatever. I guess that I do understand the need for validation - it's just odd coming from such an accomplished, capable woman.

I'm not too sure I want to talk about her comments about knowing me.

I'm not too sure I want to talk about my family other than acknowledging that most of what has been said about them is true - as far as I know it to be. Klam Killer is right about one thing: I tend to live my relationships rather than analyze or understand them. My brain doesn't work like that - nope, I don't do abstractions.

That being said, here's what my relationship with my birth parents was like. I only knew my father when I met him at my sentencing in 2002; he died a few years after that. So how does that feel? Well, for you emotional vampires out there- I feel angry and cheated.

Maybe I understand that once he sobered up he really tried to do his best by me but so what? Understanding doesn't do shit for me; it seems to do more for other people. So he's gone and I'm not. Knowing him was nice maybe even great. I have a dad he existed; and he was a billion times better than the other one that thought he could buy himself an heir. Since I don't think I have much to say about "fathers" that wouldn't be negative let's move on to the next crappy exhibit. Mothers.

To me, my birth mother was a drunk who chose to go boozing with my "Aunt" rather than take care of her child. Maybe she was more than that in her later years but that means little to me. Maybe there is a reason, a damn good reason, for what she did but it doesn't change things for me. Do we see a pattern forming? For the dense, let me break it down for you - family is a weapon the universe uses against people least equipped to defend themselves from its deprivations. I have a family but for the life of me I don't know what good it is or what to do with them. So there isn't much to say about this subject.

I miss my dad. I miss what I was denied. I will never be complete and I will never stop being full of rage the way it all turned out. Best never to talk about this again. I think I'll just steep and stew in my bile for the next few decades. Good times.