Archives for August 2010

Sunday afternoon and all I can see outside my window are endless blue skies and endless promises of adventures to be had. Instead I am stuck at my laptop racing to beat a few deadlines. So you might say to yourself, “Jack, stop writing these incredibly entertaining posts and get back to work.”

To which I’d say, go mother someone else. I don’t wear a sweater because you are cold or jump off of a bridge because all the other lemmings did so. Don’t know about you but I take a particular pleasure in being a cranky curmudgeon. But more importantly this post is related to my work and I will even explain how by way of a story.

Earlier this year I started a series of posts that covered dad bloggers, also known as the Festival of Fathers- A Blog Experience #18. It was a collection of posts written by dad bloggers that I featured here every Sunday. I did it because I wanted to help create a community among my fellow fathers and because I wanted to generate more traffic and exposure for this joint.

It was very effective and I was quite pleased with it. However it was a bit cumbersome and required a chunk of time. And as my free time shrank I found myself less enamored with it and decided to give it a rest for a while. For the past couple of weeks I have played around with picking it up again but just haven’t found enough free time to make it worthwhile.

All was well until Friday afternoon when I participated in The Daddy Blogger Blog Hop and learned that I could have done it all with far greater ease. Had I stopped to think about it or done some simple research I could have taken advantage of technology and made it far simpler.

I owe this impromtu lesson on not reinventing the wheel to A Dad At The Chalkboard because he is the guy behind the old blog hop. And even though he didn’t intend for this to work out this way I will offer my thanks for the idea and for providing more blog fodder.

Because this really is a lesson that I work on with my children and something that I have talked about in professional settings quite a bit. There rarely are times when it is truly important to reinvent the wheel. There is nothing lost in trying to find a way to distinguish yourself. No reason not to try and make your mark, but not at the expense of time and productivity.

If someone knows how to do something better than I do I am always happen to listen. It is one of the advantages of age and life experience. It is fine to have an ego, but I’d rather set mine aside and get the work done faster. In the end it provides me with more time to do the things that I want to do.

And now I’ll tie this post up in a neat little package. Remember when I said that I was racing to beat a deadline? I have found that blogging is a very effective tool for combating the occasional mental blockage that occurs when I am working on writing articles/essays/proposals. So the five minutes that I just spent writing this post will probably save me a ton of unnecessary aggravation, or at least I hope so.

Check back in with me later and I’ll let you know if my little trick worked. For now I… am ….out…of…here.

More than twenty years ago I sat on a bench at a camp in Canada listening to Randy Newman singing I Love L.A. It is kind of a goofy song but I can’t help but love it.

“Hate New York City
It’s cold and it’s damp
And all the people dressed like monkeys
Let’s leave Chicago to the Eskimos
That town’s a little bit too rugged
For you and me you bad girl”

As a certified professional troublemaker these lyrics speak to me, especially when you are educating a group of Detroit Piston fans on why the Lakers are so dominant. It is probably worth noting that talking about sports is an exceptionally good way to make people lose their minds. Don’t know what it is or why- but sports can make ordinary people act extraordinarily dumb. Just ask the fans of the Browns and they’ll tell you I am right.

Anyway, one of the ten thousand reasons why I love this silly medium we call blogging is that I can write my moods away. Yes, I just wrote write my moods away. I said it, I meant it and I did it. Ya see, this dear old dad sometimes suffers moments of frustration. I know, it is hard to believe that I, the most patient man in the world could ever be frustrated. Even more difficult to believe that sometimes I get angry either.

But truth is that I do get both frustrated and angry. Now if I lived in Boston, detroit or cleveland I’d take out my anger by starting a riot or setting the river on fire. If I lived in London I’d yell something like, “Manchester United fans are wankers” and hooligans would come pouring out from every pub. But I am a fortunate son and haven’t suffered the abuse of those who are forced to live in any of these places.

And more importantly I am the role model for some children. Yep, I know, stop laughing. Not only can my boys swim they know how to hop fences, kick down doors and then some. Don’t really know why I added that last part, the idea of having commando sperm is for some reason funny to me. I should add on behalf of my children that each and every one of you were planned.

Ok, kids if that doesn’t make you want to wash your eyes out with bleach I am not sure what will. Oy, what have I done. 😉

Anyhoo, this morning I found myself fighting through the throes of a bad mood brought upon me by a bad dream. Couldn’t remember what it was that I dreamt about, just that I didn’t like it. So I decided that it would be better to blog than to kick a cat or punch a hole in the wall.

Relax cat lovers- I hate cats but I haven’t ever kicked one. Nor have I punched or assaulted any cat physically. However I cannot lie- I have yelled at them more than once and offered to provide them with free fare to some island far away from here.

And that my friends is I how I found myself sitting here, sharing these ridiculous words with all of you fine people. Even better the bad mood has lifted and I find myself ready, waiting and able to kick the crap out of this day. Lots to do and I am just the man to do it.

Coming soon: How To Stay Angry At People You Love So That You Can Keep Them At Arms Length

If you missed a day than you probably missed these posts:

• Surprise
• The Daddy Blogger Blog Hop
• Teaching Moments
• Once Upon A Time
• How to Be A Successful Blogger
• Can a Father Follow His Heart
• A Letter To A Girl Who Was

and just for kicks, here are a few links to some past posts that are worth a read:

Timing
Words on a Page
The Daddy Blogger Community

If you ask me what my favorite part of blogging is I might answer that it is represented by this video. You see when I sat down to start writing I had no intention, thought or idea that I would include this song as part of it. But I will and I am because it fits.

In that different life I talk about, the one that existed when I was your average college student I was a member of a fraternity. Part of the mighty Zeta Beta Tau- a proud ZBT who has ten thousand stories surrounding this time of my life. This song reminds me of one.

I was about twenty and in San Francisco with the house. We went up for a convention, must have been hundreds of brothers from various chapters around the state. It is Saturday night and we are out on the town bar hopping, looking for girls and just living it up. A group of us wander into a bar but no one bothers to look around at the patrons. We’re so busy talking and drinking that we don’t notice that it is a gay bar.

It doesn’t take long to notice that there are relatively few women and that men are dancing with men. Some of the guys go flying out of there, but not me. I have two gay uncles and for a moment I am entranced by what I see. It is foreign to me, there is never a doubt or concern in my head about my sexuality. I like women. I like everything about them and though I kid around about it being easier to be gay, it is not what I want.

But at this point in my life I already know that one of my uncles is HIV positive. I know that my father’s little brother has been given a death sentence and that friends/acquaintances of mine may freak out about this. I am not embarrassed nor ashamed by my uncle but I don’t volunteer a thing about him. I don’t want to engage in ridiculous discussions about his sexuality. It is a private matter, his business and there is no reason to talk about it.

My uncle lives in San Francisco, not too far away from where I am now. I have been to his place to visit many times. Been up there without my folks or siblings so I have an idea what his life is like. But this feels different to me. This intrigues me because this is closer to the “stereotype” that you hear and read about. So for a moment I stand there and look around.

The men in there look no different than I do. Out on the street no one could tell what our preference was, but here the dancing makes it more obvious. For a moment I stand there and watch. I feel like I am in a movie and the camera is spinning in a big circle.  I scan the room and look for my uncle. I don’t really expect to see him there. I can’t decide if I am happy, sad, upset or ambivalent about not finding him.

A few minutes later I walk out and rejoin the guys. We are looking for a straight bar. Can’t say what sort of comments were being made because I don’t remember. Wouldn’t surprise me if some were off color. I’d expect that more than a few were made about someone enjoying themselves a little bit too much in that bar.

Can’t say that there is a point or moral to this story either. It is really just a moment in time, a memory whose existence was pricked by music. Perhaps the hardest part about this is accepting just how long ago this took place.