My Father and Books

Sorry it's been so long since I've blogged - sometimes I'm in the place and sometimes I'm not!

Felt like a lot of significant things have changed over the last year and a couple of things have crept up on me which are serious wake-up calls to just how close I am to being a fully functional human being.

The first is, obviously, UCAS. UCAS is not only scary because of the ever present possibility of me not getting in anywhere and having to take an enforced gap year, but because of all the other things that go along with applying to university. This time next year (hopefully) I will be living alone - and more scary than plans for university are plans for money, travel, things I need to bring, things I need to buy, general skills I can see I am lacking...

But that's not even the scariest thing. More recently, the relationship with my parents has changed slightly. I am an only child, meaning in general I have no choice but be relatively close to my parents. We live in a small but perfectly formed flat, but as with all families, we tend to trip over each other as much as we sit in mutual contentment.

I think the scariest thing is how, gradually, the relationship I have (and I'm going to be specific about my dad not because I love him more but simply he reads more and listens to music) with my dad has been more equal. This month I have reccommeneded my dad two books: 'The Mysteries of Pittsburgh' by Michael Chabon and 'Paper Towns' by John Green. And he's liked them both.

This may seem ridiculously small a moment to, after weeks of silence, warrant a blog post. And it's not like it's the first time my dad has valued my opinion or taking my advice over art or media of some description. But it feels a little bit like, after years of my parents essentially saturating me in culture and art that has influenced my tastes, opinions and, possibly, career ideas, I can start to pay them back.

The things my parents have opened my eyes to are some of the most valued parts of my life. Writers like Raymond Carver or Douglas Coupland, art like Peter Blake or Richard Hamilton, films like Heathers or The Royal Tenenbaums. It's not as though I never would have found these things on my own, but it means an awful lot to me that these things have come with my parents, and I can discuss them with them. It has formed a huge part of my relationship.

And now, it seems, my life has started to break away from theirs. Now I am becoming an individual person, who has interests outside of those of my parents and specifically my daily use of the Internet to find things, I can start to find gems of my own (like the two books mentioned to name but a few) and give these experiences back to my parents.

Turning this relationship into more of an exchange than a hierarchy (not that we were really ever like that, I had them wrapped around my finger) is the next stage of our relationship. We won't be living together, we won't share day to day experiences and so it is comforting to know that a relationship of cultural exchange will still exist, stronger than ever, which means we can stay close wherever I end up. I want my own life - but it's important that as many people as possible from this life can fit into that. My parents have already found their place, and that is as scary as it is heartening.

I am aware this has been happening gradually over some time - but it is just this week it hs truly hit me the implications. This time next year, whatever happens with UCAS, I'll be an adult. And being treated like one won't be a luxury but a way of life.

Incidently, if I would reccommend them to my dad I would reccommend them to anyone! You should read both/either because they truly are thoughtful, simply tales of haunting stories with characters that are both interesting and who ring true. Very different but equally wonderful.