"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." Groucho Marx
If you haven’t been by recently here is a list of recent posts:
Stay tuned as several new posts are coming soon.
“One slip, and down the hole we fall
It seems to take no time at all
A momentary lapse of reason
That binds a life for life
A small regret, you won’t forget,
There’ll be no sleep in here tonight
Was it love, or was it the idea of being in love?
Or was it the hand of fate, that seemed to fit just like a glove?”
One Slip- Pink Floyd
Well woman it has been more than a long while since you and I had a proper conversation about anything. In the so called real world in which people measure time they would say that this is proof that the moment has passed and the window has closed. It is a fancy way of saying that they’d tell me to move on and forget about the dream.
Some would use tough love and tell me that you have moved on and that my hanging around is nothing more than a fool’s errand. They’d say that if I enjoy exercises in futility I can use a thimble to fill a swimming pool with water. Others might take a different approach and use a kinder, more gentle approach to encourage me to come back from the abyss they see me standing above.
But they don’t understand what you and I had, what we were together or why it has kept my attention. And they certainly don’t understand me. When they say that I have been cast adrift and seem lost at sea I nod my head in agreement. It is true. I have been sailing through uncharted waters for longer than I care to admit.
There have been more than a few storms that have threatened to sink the damn ship. And moments where I wondered if it wouldn’t be easier to let go of the wheel and let the damn rocks have their way. The thought of slipping beneath the waves into the deep has a certain sort of attraction to me, but not in a literal sense. And you of all people know that the fire that burns within won’t allow me to give up in that fashion.
So during those dark moments I channeled my anger, my frustration and rage and screamed. Like a wounded bull I shouted at the sky and begged the imaginary beings who live there to come down and do battle with me. I shook my fist and cursed them for their cowardly nature. In the midst of it all I sometimes wondered if the aforementioned fire had escaped its cage in my belly and made its way up into my chest.
It seemed clear to me that it must have burnt that heart of mine into something black and twisted or worse yet, consumed it whole. But the familiar ache made it clear that it hadn’t and that it was only my imagination. And then I thought that if you could only be next to me I could let go and shed some tears.
How perverse and strange it was- to think that the only way I could let go would be for you to be there. But you weren’t and so I didn’t. And as time passed I grew more accustomed to the hole and found ways to ignore the emptiness.
I turned inwards and explored the darkness inside. And then I found some glimmers of hope and reminders of the guy I was and who I am to become. The boy who was helped to remind me that the man can dream and that there is a path to making those dreams so much more than fantasy. The funny thing about it is that some of that came about by returning to the places I had left behind.
More than a few moments are spent inside the gym swinging iron back and forth, side to side and up and down. Covered in sweat I find moments of peace and tranquility. In between the clinking and clanking I close my eyes and listen. My heart still says that you are my air and my home is wherever you are.
Sometimes in the silence between sets I hear A Kiss To Build a Dream On and I can’t help but picture dancing with you in our home. And there in the silence I remember that one kiss that we used to speak of and I smile.
So maybe it is just for the time being that I can’t find my way home but something tells me that it won’t be like this forever.
If you spend any time roaming through the mommy blogosphere you are aware that the moms are going a little bit crazy about the big mommy blogger conference, BlogHer10. At last count there were 1,987 posts offering advice and or instruction as to how to successfully navigate the coming conference.
There are also approximate 9,987 posts written today by moms who are upset that they haven’t lost the baby weight, are concerned that their husbands will be unable to handle taking care of the kids and or can’t decide if bringing 27 pairs of shoes is excessive for a three day conference. Somewhere Imelda Marcos is clapping her hands in glee.
And then there are the posts for Project Mom Casting.
“Julie & Julia” was the first blog made into a motion picture. It will not be the last. Do you think you have what it takes to go from online to on-air? A major award-winning production company is now casting for an exciting new series featuring online moms. This groundbreaking show will showcase the untapped world of social media, moms and bloggers and the incredible influence they wield in our society.
A small production team will be at BlogHer ’10 in New York City to discover and interview exciting online mom personalities. The producers are interested in connecting with a diverse sampling of media savvy moms who are working to build an online brand. Who will be the next sensation in the mom-blogosphere?”
Call me a cranky daddy blogger, but I just don’t see this as being particularly interesting. Maybe I don’t understand the concept. Maybe I am just not following and that is the issue but I have trouble understanding what is going to be exciting, novel and different about this.
Are the viewers going to watch these women blog and tweet? Will they get a click’s eye view of the mom’s interacting with brands and commenters while trying to change diapers, help with homework and or work. There has to be more to it than that, right. Because who is going to sit down and watch anyone do the point- and-click or cut-and-paste dances.
I am certain that there are some very interesting personalities out there. But what are they going to be doing- how are we going to be exposed to them. Again, maybe I am just obtuse, but I don’t understand how we are going to see them engage in social media in a fashion that is remotely interesting.
Take whatever he loves most, break it and then give it back to him. It can be an educational experience. How does he respond to adversity. Does he accept the damaged goods? Does he try to repair the damage or does he discard it and go about his business.
When he reaches that place in which he can no longer feel the warmth of the sun upon his back he faces a choice. Does he allow the darkness to invade his soul or does he hold out hope for a brighter day.
I sit at the table staring at the screen while I wonder what words will work best. Mulling, debating and considering which combination of nouns, verbs and adjectives will most effectively transmit the message that I wish for you to take from this.
Ear buds firmly implanted inside my ears I listen to iTunes send forth song after song while I pretend to be in an “old time newsroom” listening to the clickety-clack of a tired old typewriter. Every I hear the silent ding, stop typing and roll the paper down a notch so that I can resume typing on the next line. It won’t do to type over the lines that I have already composed.
It doesn’t matter that the ‘e’ sometimes sticks or that the paper is already riddled with splashes of liquid paper. This is Pulitzer Prize winning material. Really, it is not bad. Not bad at all, somewhere between decent, nifty and elegant the words tell a story that we all can relate to.
Three cups of coffee later I can’t fight nature any longer and head off to the head. Two minutes, three shakes and a big sigh of relief go by before I catch my reflection in the mirror. It was just a flash, but I think that I spotted something in my hair. Have to stop and figure out if the light is playing tricks on me or is it what I think.
Are there really flecks of grey splattered across the side of my head. A careful and cautious inspection is undertaken amidst feelings of ambivalence. Another milestone has been reached- it is not flecks of paint or pieces of fuzz stuck amongst the dark hair. Nope, there are a few malcontents trying to instigate a mutiny among the crew.
In the grand scheme of life it is not that important- hair color isn’t as important as health. It is unlikely to have much of any impact if any on my life.