The Second Summer of the Sisterhood

I was just reading this book this morning. It was written by Ann Brashares. I read the Indonesian version of course. They brand it TeenLit, meaning Teen Literature. The four main characters: Lena, Tibby, Carmen, and Bridget; are teens. The book told their second summer after they found the sisterhood pants (read the book for more explaination). Even though they are teens, their stories somehow resonate to most people's stories. Me, a 23 year old woman, even thinks it's a good book.

But I'm not talking about the book here. Well, it started when I was reading it. I was reading the story of Bridget, who visit her mother's hometown to find and get to know her grandmother. And it dawns to me, as I was helping my dad close the gate and the garage door, that I don't really know much about my dad. I was looking at his pair of badminton/tenish shoes, thinking why he bought them. Does he play tennis? If yes, when? And with who? Despite the reason why he bought the shoes are clear (to play tennis), but the latter questions haunted me. When and with who? Then I realize I don't much about him. There's a lot of his history that I don't know. I usually found out about it when it already happened for a while (could be for years). Like when he went to India. I didn't know about it untill he told my sister, then my sister told me. I also didn't know that he had pilgrimage (sp?) until my dad told my mom, then my mom told me. I'm almost totally clueless about him. I also didn't know he actually played football (soccer) and was a star. But an injury forced him to retire. I know bit of pieces of his life...told years after it happen. I understand if they happened before I was born. But the things happened after I was born...it shouldn't take years.

I sort of the made a promise to get to know my dad a little better. Just now...the promise fade away. Just because he told me to change the channel (I was watching Powerpuff Girls), because he thinks that 'it has no benefit'. A sense of rebelness take over. What about happiness? What about joy? What about enjoying myself? I linger a little on the channel (in case you didn't guess, it's Cartoon Network), but a stroke of fear overtake me. And I flip around the remote, changing channel. Then I realize...I still fear my dad's wrath of anger. No, no...he wasn't abusive. But I did have several bad incident involving his anger, which turn out to have more impact that I thought. I'm still affraid to invoke his anger. And I still fear that it would be a heavy one.

My super-quick analytic ability took over. I over-analize everything...it's a habit, a not-so-benefitting one. I analize why I still like cartoons (like any other people), why I still fear my dad, why I couldn't stand up to him, etc. I also quietly say inside my mind that even though he tries to have new visions, thinking outside the box, he still puts me in a box. Since I'm his daughter, I should follow his guidelines. Being 23 years old means I'm an adult. An adult is not suppose to like cartoon. Because it doesn't give you any benefit. Then I see through all his effort all this time...he was trying to make me an adult as early as he can. My mom told me about this several times : 'He was just trying to make u independent, just in case. Because you are the oldest daughter'. Unfortunately...his plan and efforts had backfire. I'm maybe 23 years old...but there's a child screaming inside of me. Knocking my conscious with all her might. The age may be right...but my emotional age is not. I don't feel like an adult...I don't want to be one. I don't want to get older. And by that, all the efforts backfire. Instead making me an independent, responsible adult...I'm almost the opposite.

...It just backfire...

...Am I depressed?...

...Yes, totally...