I told Jericho that if I knew how to sing the way I know how to write I would sing a song for her and that it was guaranteed to tear down all of the walls.
Maybe one or two of you will read the words I wrote in that link so very long ago, maybe you’ll understand what I mean what I say we met in a place that no longer exists as people we no longer or maybe not.
It is always nice to know that you are not alone and that people understand you. Not always necessary, but reassuring.
Funny to look back upon those days and to hear the echoes of the past and to see how they connect to the echoes of the future knowing that who we once were isn’t indicative of who we are going to be or is it.
If you are the kind of person who believes there is something more than just random circumstance and that there might be something more to the interactions and engagement between people you might nod your head when I say the energy feels different now.
What Speaks To You
Someone spent a chunk of time reading Are You Hanging Out With Arnold Schwarzenegger?
I don’t know who or why they did, but I am grateful that I saw it in my stats and chose to revisit that post.
Because the video inside that post speaks to me, it resonates and moves me.
I relate to it and find it to be motivational and I need some extra motivation right now. I need a little kick-in-the-ass to push myself a little bit harder and go a little bit farther.
Life has been challenging and difficult as of late and I needed this reminder. I needed to take a moment to close my eyes and review my mental list of success and gratitude.
It is something I try to do on a regular basis.
Because I am impatient and I sometimes forget how far I have come. When the floor gave out in 2014 I hit every rock and shrub on the way down.
It felt like death by a thousand paper cuts and I was more than a little angry about it all. I didn’t expect to ever go through anything like that once, let alone twice.
Part of what drove me to dig my ass out of the rubble was fear of failing as a father and part of it was rage.
It was fury at being placed in that situation for a second time, both through no fault of my own. It was molten anger and frustration that stemmed from being told I wasn’t just good at what I did, I was excellent.
What is the point of being told you are excellent if you are going to get kicked to the curb.
There was a time when I wouldn’t write about these things in anything but the vaguest sort of terms because I wasn’t just dejected, I was embarrassed.
But I am not embarrassed anymore.
Got my head screwed on straight, in large part because of that gratitude and success list I mentioned before.
When the kids ask me how I got through the hard times I’ll tell them it was a combination of being stubborn, lucky and determined.
Or one-third bullshit, two-thirds common sense, three-fifths horse sense and a lot of nonsense.
In other words it wasn’t any one thing, it was a lot of things but more than anything else it was my unwillingness to let failure beat me.
The Search For Perfect Lips
David Bowie is playing on iTunes. Life on Mars morphs into Lazarus and moves onto an Elvis singing If I Can Dream.
Somewhere in between listening to the tail end of Lazarus and the King’s song about hope I remember to provide a link to the post where I mentioned the search for perfect lips.
Some of you have encouraged me to keep posting links to old posts because you want me to point out my best stuff.
When I get those notes I always write back and thank you for your support. I always write back and ask you to tell me what you like to read and try to share something based upon what you have told me.
There are more than ten thousand posts here, a ridiculous number of words dedicated to a crazy assortment of tales.
Every time you inquire and ask for more detail I try to tell you about the crazy rabbit hole you are about to go down and explain I dislike most of what has appeared here because it doesn’t meet my standards.
I expect better from me and get irritated because I fall short of my expectations and grow more irritated when I see people I consider to have less talent get more from writing than I.
Ego is the double edged sword that cuts and pushes for more than just average work.
It is not just because I love to write and am compelled to keep posting but because I come across memories.
I find things like And Then There Were Three- Grandparents and remember times that were but are no longer.
For 42 years there was always one or more grandparents in my life and now five years have passed since there was at least one.
I come here and the echoes speak to me.
“Jack, do you know how your grandmother and I were married for 76 years? We compromised and I knew when to be deaf. It doesn’t hurt that your grandmother has a great ass for a 90 something year-old woman.”
My grandfathers were characters.
I remember how one cousin told me how my crazy grandfather must have been a challenge to live with.
I told him he never saw how grandma and grandpa used to look at each other or how they would fall asleep holding hands.
Nor did he see what would happen if grandma glared at grandpa. It rarely happened, but no one could cut him short like she could.
Seventy-six years of marriage and had grandma not died who knows how much longer…
This is why I blog.
It keeps the memories fresh and close.
It is how if necessary I travel through time.
You Can’t Fear Failure
Fear is the motor that powers failure. Manage your fear and you’ll manage your failure just fine.
What do you think?