I've heard of compulsive disorders. You know, people who can't fight the urge to steal, or act in some sort of strange habit. No matter how hard they try, they can't seem to fight their nature.
It seems that my father suffers from some disorder. I mean, sure, his new Happy Pills are working wonders for his temper and aggressiveness. Unfortunately, it does nothing for his constant need to tell tales and stories about himself or others.
Every time we have to attend one of those social dinners, meet people, and blah blah blah. I dread just what kind of stories he'll tell people. And for every little story he creates, I'll usually just bury my expression by drinking water. Worse part is, almost every other person in my family plays along. It's only me who has the 'WTF??' eye-expression.
Hence my reason why I don't tell him anything about my writing and publishing. Most of my personal life I keep to myself. Only my mother, and a handful of my friends know what I really do. Then, when I have no choice but to bring friends to meet him, I'd usually sit down with them before and after the meeting. Before is to warn them about what comes out of my father's mouth may or may not be true, and should be taken with a huge barrel of salt. The after is to weed out which of the stories he shared were true.
*sigh*
It seems that my father suffers from some disorder. I mean, sure, his new Happy Pills are working wonders for his temper and aggressiveness. Unfortunately, it does nothing for his constant need to tell tales and stories about himself or others.
Every time we have to attend one of those social dinners, meet people, and blah blah blah. I dread just what kind of stories he'll tell people. And for every little story he creates, I'll usually just bury my expression by drinking water. Worse part is, almost every other person in my family plays along. It's only me who has the 'WTF??' eye-expression.
Hence my reason why I don't tell him anything about my writing and publishing. Most of my personal life I keep to myself. Only my mother, and a handful of my friends know what I really do. Then, when I have no choice but to bring friends to meet him, I'd usually sit down with them before and after the meeting. Before is to warn them about what comes out of my father's mouth may or may not be true, and should be taken with a huge barrel of salt. The after is to weed out which of the stories he shared were true.
*sigh*
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