I Hated My Father
I hated my father for a long time. I resemble him completely, and everyone says I am a copy of him in appearance. And some people even said that 30 years after, I would be what he was completely in everything. But I really disliked to be told so, and I felt it was an insult to me. My father was an object of detestation for me; to be his son was my curse. I didn't regard him as my father and despised him very much, so I sought ways of revenge on him. I decided that after I graduate from university and I can earn my own living, I would abandon him. "For now, I will act a meek son, but it won't last forever. He should live his lonely old age," I thought.
There were many reasons why I hated my father. He was quick-tempered, selfish, and he easily beat and kicked me, because he wanted to have his own way in everything. Though I had not been such a bad child, I was often scolded and knocked about by him since I was a small child, so I was afraid of him, and I really had contempt for him. There was one more reason why I hated my father; it was my name "Taro", given me by my father "Taro" is a very simple name. Anyone naming a child could think of this name in one second. Of course, this simple name was made fun of by my friends. I really hated it, and I wondered whether my father had really thought my name over seriously. I asked him the reasons for naming me this, but he answered only "Taro is simple, manful, and easy to remember." I even wondered if perhaps my father thought of me as a dog. I seldom felt his love for me.
Last year, I entered Fukui Medical School, and started to live alone. My despising of my father had not changed at all, so I was very happy to live alone, because I didn't have to meet him except during my vacation! Of course, I seldom went home though it is possible to go there in only one hour by car.
But since I have lived by myself, my impression of my father has gradually changed. My mother often said my father wanted to meet me and he talked about me very often.
Growing up with a father who blamed me for the death of his wife which of course broke through any happiness, care or love he felt for me his own son. My house was always filled with dark gloomy colors and we never really had guests over at all. My father was a mystery most people but in his job he had power over people because they were frightened by his just by his presence. It was a very rare pleasure filled with fright when we spoke and I can only think of one time where I got a hint of positive feeling from him. It was a dark, rainy gloomy day and the house never held a promise for the future so I was constantly bored and decided to read some old books from my father’s dusty library. There I sat with a book in hand picking up any knowledge that I possibly could and he walked in and said to me “Montressor, you impress me with act of trying to do something useful”, I replied to him with the only thing I could ever say to him, yes sir. I can only remember the constant hate I would receive from him and it made me think that I would never please
father will ask how he is doing occasionally. In the end his friendship does not change. But it will
I do not have any memories of my own father as a child. I met him when I was about fourteen years old. My mother and grandmother, with the help of my uncles and aunt, raised me. Although I had strong positive male role models in my life, there was always the void of my father that I dealt with on a daily basis. I can remember at a young age, before blowing out the candles on my birthday cake, I would wish that my father would show up to my party. I had elaborate daydreams of him coming back into my life and doing things with me like I saw on television. It never happened. While walking to the train station one evening my uncle casually said to me “there’s your father” as if I saw him on an everyday basis. I didn’t...
Writing a self-reflective tirade is perhaps one of the most difficult tasks to perform. I have found myself pondering this topic for an unusually long time; no one has ever asked me to write about my culture-- the one thing about myself which I understand the least. This question which is so easy for others to answer often leads me into a series of convoluted explanations, "I was born in the U.S., but lived in Pakistan since I was six. My brothers moved to the US when I was thirteen" I am now nearly twenty, which means I have spent half my life being Pakistani, the other half trying to be American, or is the other way around?
Throughout history man has searched for an explanation of our origins and why we are here. Many creation myths are attempts of our ancestors to do just that. I have found in reading many of these creation myths, that there is also an attempt to explain why human existence is imperfect. The following essay will compare and contrast four creation myths and their explanation of how mans imperfection came to be.
For some reason, out of me and all my siblings I felt responsible for taking care of my dad. I constantly felt pressure to try and stop the fighting between my father and other family member as much as I could. To do this I would always hover around my father trying to make sure he wasn’t experiencing difficulty executing a task. If I show any sign of him struggling I would step in, pretending I want to help with the task but in reality, I just didn’t want him to get mad. A prime example of this is whenever he cooked dinner, he would always struggle to bend over to reach the pots or pans, I would always be in the next room half-heartedly working on homework while the other part of me was panicky. I remember my heart would always start to race and I wouldn’t be able to focus anymore on my homework because of the fear of him becoming aggravated. At the first sign of trouble I would hop up from my living room seat hoping I could stop him from fighting with anyone in my family. I would run into the kitchen pretending to be an overly excited child asking if he wanted help cooking, know It wasn’t a want but a need. My dad always excepted and I would quickly take over the responsibility of cook even though I hated It. He would always try to praise me after saying what a good helpful daughter I was but instead of the excitement that most children got getting the praise I would get angry thinking I shouldn’t have to help you with this
The greatest woman I’ve ever known always told me that education was important…and she was right. I came from a small town in the suburbs of St. Louis, Missouri prior to becoming a teenager. At the time, education was abundant in St. Ann, where I lived. I attended a decent elementary school and made good grades, despite mathematics not being my cup of tea. I have
The Voyage of Argo is about a man named Jason who bands together a group of extraordinary warriors and goes on an adventure in search of a golden fleece. This group called the Argonauts, is made up of sons of gods and heroes. Traveling up to the Black Sea in their boat, the Argo, they encounter various obstacles that they must overcome in order to secure the golden fleece for their own and return safely to their home.
The creation of the universe, gods, and humans is one of the most popular topics among myths. Many cultures have passed down creation stories by mouth and through writing so that we are able to know them today. Creation stories were important pieces of information to help humans understand and rationalize their place in life. Cris Campbell of Genealogy of Religion writes, “Though there are undoubtedly other reasons, one of the most important surely is orientation. People need to situate themselves in both time and space. Creation myths serve this need: they provide a temporal and spatial anchor.”
Throughout history many civilizations and cultures have had their own ways of explaining the world and its creation. Each of these civilizations has created unique descriptions and accounts of such events. However, when comparing them to each other, are they really different? Look at the ancient Greco - Roman creation myths as told by Hesiod in his Theogony and Works and Days and Ovid’s Metamorphoses, when compared to the creation myths as seen in the Old Testament’s book of Genesis they may not be as different as one would think. Taking a more in-depth look at both Genesis and Hesiod’s and Ovid’s work more closely, the reader can see that on multiple occasions the myths have almost identical similarities which reflect their views in society. The similarities in particular are the myths of the creation of man, women with their subsequent role of evil in ancient times, and the great floods. These similarities prove that even though these two scriptures were centuries apart, the concepts presented in each myth were almost identical to one another.
In High School, college seemed to be the scariest thing that I could think of. Whenever I thought about it my stomach would immediately begin to spin in circles. Although I was ready to go off and be by myself and meet new people I was scared to death at the same time. I didn't know much about the "college experience" and what I did know (or thought I knew) scared me. I pictured hard classes that I wouldn't be able to keep up with, people that wouldn't like me, long hikes to get to my classes, and horrible food. I couldn't imagine leaving the security of my own room, my own stuff where I want it, my friends that I've spent practically my whole life with, my family who put up with all my little quirks, and my car!! What was I going to do without my precious car? Some of my friends that had already been to college and had come back to visit seemed so much older and more mature. I felt twelve years old in comparison. I thought that I would never be able to fit in. Everyone else that I talked to didn't however seem to have this problem. They all were thrilled at the thought of being on their own and not having to worry about their parents telling them what to do all the time. And sure, the thought was extremely exciting to me as well, but how would I survive without my family and friends and the things that had taken me eighteen years to get used to. I felt like going to college was pretty much taking everything that I knew and had grown accustomed to and throwing it up in the air. The worst part about it all was that I felt like I was the only one that actually thought about this. I felt so immature and childish for actually being scared to come to college. After I thought I wouldn't be able to take the pressures anymore, I decided to approach my mom about the subject. I told her that I was a little scared and the thought of being on my own made me a little uneasy.
I never talked to him on a deeper level like I would would with with my mother. My father was always there for me if I ever needed anything. However, he never made any effort to speak to me about sensitive situations. If something that was a touchy subject, he would act awkward and try to avoid the conversation. My dad is a great man, who loves, cares, and would do anything for me. He just does not know how to communicate and speak about things that create a bond between us, the way my mother does.
Creation myths always explain the origin of world and human being as well as some natural phenomenons. There are thousands of myths in the world along with the thousands of ethnic groups in different areas. Though the contents of these creation myths may vary, there are several common elements among them such as wars, disasters and creation of creatures, etc. The myth above not only contains several common elements but also combine some unique features of other creation myths.
Living alone, however, yields much more room for fun. You can dine on pizza and beer every night if you wish and your friends can visit any time. The furniture will be of your choosing, like the smelly ceramic vase in the corner with the strange mouthpiece. And you can clean the house under your own standards of cleanliness, not your mom’s.
In conclusion, the trilogy Agamemnon connects with the concept of fate. In evrysingle part of the play fate is proved from the beginning till the end. Fate occurred when Agamemnon went to the battle, when he sacrificed his own daughter for the God and Cassandra revenging Agamemnon for sacrificing her daughter who was known as the house beauty .