I Just May

 

No I don’t have kids. Yes I plan to have kids. Here’s a hint going forward…

Please don’t tell me the following, “You’ll see when you have kids of your own!”, because that may be the single most nauseating statement a current parent can make.

This just in – I may “see” when I have a kid and I may, GASP, still agree that they can play football when they’re young.

I may, GASP, still not give a shit if someone curses in front of them.

I may, GASP, tell them what to do and not have it be an open ended question that ends in, “Ok?”.

I may, GASP, punish them and not have to reinforce the punishment with an “I love you.”

I may, GASP, tell my kid that defending yourself physically will not get you punished because I think it’s called standing up for yourself.

I may, GASP, not think my “life is over”.

I may, GASP, still do things for myself and not be a terrible parent.

I may, GASP, allow them to miss school for vacations.

I may, GASP, allow my kid to ride their bike without a helmet.

I may, GASP, not have their 1^st birthday party look like a wedding.

I may and I may and I may and I may

Football is too dangerous. Playgrounds are war zones. Swing sets need to be padded. Trophies for everyone. No such thing as winners or losers. Dodgeball is target practice. Every kid is a genius.

On and on and on and on

ENOUGH! I may do all those things and I may not. Either way can we all just agree to stop overthinking every god damn step we take in this world? Everyone spends so much time worrying about anxiety and psyche’s and all we’re doing is creating more anxiety and psychos.

Just be.

Who Am I

 

 

I’m a continuous battle with excuses. I’m a guy swatting the devil off my shoulder only to have him return with a pitchfork and that same toothy grin.

I’m a guy who “couldn’t” compete in a triathlon because he wasn’t mentally ready and needed a year to prepare. As if it were battlefield deployment I was embarking on as opposed to a pristine lake in the mountains.

I guess the veteran with no arms or legs that swam a half mile spent the year mentally preparing. I suppose the blind man that joined him and swam tied off to a friend spent the last year strategizing just as well.

Wipe that toothy grin off your face, Hades.

Many people say I’m too hard on myself. I say I’m too easy. Those who know me know a person who doesn’t necessarily hate losing as much as he loves winning…and yet that smiling weight on my shoulder cloaked in red still finds his way atop the podium.

Go ahead start writing your book. Get your ideas organized. Get some structure in place. Nope. Too hard. Nobody cares. Not enough time in the day. Too busy.

I guess all the writers in the world have all the time in the world. I suppose back in 1963 when Stephen Hawking was told he had two years to live he phoned it in just as well.

I guess. I suppose.

I’m too hard. I’m too easy. I’m red. I’m white. I’m over it. Not really.

I’m trying.   

The Rest is History

 

Saturday, April 7, 2007. My mother is in the hospital.

She had been battling some annoying and seemingly harmless pneumonia/water-in-the-lung/who-the-fuck-knows issue for a few months. Random bouts of shortened breath frustrated her. Doctors giving her the run around on numerous occasions was the norm. Shocking I know.

On this day; however, she was feeling great. Guess it was just another random  breathing episode in the midst of what had become a lifestyle of trying to be healthy. Eating better, being more active, and finally trying to take control of her body. By all accounts it was working. She had looked great and never seemed happier.  

Sitting up in her bed and in a smiley mood, she read a furniture magazine like a kid reads a Toys ‘R’ Us circular. She was being released and her house was being renovated so she was ready to shop!

Now comes time for the visit to end. After all, we had important things to do. Michelle in her physically loving and outwardly affectionate way gives my mother a big hug and kiss and tells her she loves her. It was a short 3 months prior she lost her own. She knows not to take them for granted.

Now I’m up. My turn at the plate.

Thoughts are churning, “Tell her you love her. Just say ‘I love you.’ Cut the shit and just tell your mother you love her because you never know. Look what happened to Nancy. I mean god forbid…No. I can’t. It’s just so uncomfortable. It’ll be fine. Nothing bad’s gonna happen. Just say goodbye and all good!! Stop overthinking it.”

3, 2, 1 go…Kiss on the cheek and, “Bye mom!”

The rest is history. That was the last time I spoke to my mother. Those were the last words and the final thoughts that went through my mind while I had a mother in this world.

It’s haunted me ever since.

That day has forever changed me as a person. I’m different. I’ll always be different. I’ve become slightly obsessed with living and trying to be healthy. I look at life totally different. I used to plan out my future and look forward to things only to subconsciously wish the present away…as if the present wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.  

I’m now terrified of death when before I never really gave it any credit. It consumes me. It’s always on my mind.

Death is horrifying. Anyone who disagrees is kidding themselves. You’re here one day and the next you’re not. We’re not invincible. We’re nothing. We’re animals on a planet full of animals. No different than the ant or the spider you killed 20 minutes ago. They were here and now they’re not.

Nature wins. Nature always wins.

You can tell yourself there is a higher power looking out for you all you want. If it makes you feel better believing in Fairy Tales then I’m all for it. Be careful not to disrespect death though. Go ahead, act like a “better place” exists.

Whats the point of this blog? I’m not sure. I’m not sure any of my blogs have a point, per se. They’re public journals. Some people get pissed off at what I have to say and some people love what I have to say. I write for both audiences. I write for myself. There are people out there that may relate to my feelings and if that’s the case, well, than that's the point of this blog.

You think about wanting to do something then do it. You want to break up with your boyfriend? Do it. You want to quit your job and follow your dreams? Do it. You want to write a book and pour your emotions out on paper? Ahem, ahem, do it!

Remember, nature will win. She always does. It’s sad, morbid and terribly depressing but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.

So fucking say “I love you.”