Ten minutes ago there were 378 words on this page and now there are only these very few.
That is because I am a serial killer and a mass murderer of words that displease me and those that were once here made me grind my teeth and hiss.
They were not the write words for this page because they had no rhythm or flow and that was enough to merit their death.
Maybe the death and rebirth of this post is symbolic. Maybe it is similar to my life or at least what it feels like now.
The way things have been are going up in smoke and the damn fire is burning so fiercely it is all I can do to save a few things and focus on rising like a phoenix from the ashes.
Or at least that is the goal.
Sometimes it feels like I am making progress and sometimes I wonder if I am just punching at the wind.
Enter The New Normal
It is a funny time of life because part of me wonders if there was ever a time when life didn’t feel like I was a lumberjack in a log-rolling contest.
Truth is I know there was a time that it didn’t feel like that. A time when transitions felt normal, smooth and easy and not rough, bumpy and uncertain.
Those were days when I went to the same office day in and day out and the questions I asked were far simpler than now. Days when I figured that in five years I’d be living in the house I had always dreamed of and be making enough money to live one hell of a life.
Days when I figured that in five years I’d be living in the house I had always dreamed of and be making enough money to live one hell of a life.
But life happens and there are things you can’t plan for so you shift, pivot, sidestep and do what you can to make it all work.
And one day you wake up and your life is unrecognizable and you realize at some point you followed Alice down the rabbit hole and are living in a foreign land.
Except it is not really foreign, it is just the new normal.
Blogging Tricks The Kids Will Love
My almost 11 going on 30-year-old daughter asked me to tell her more stories about my childhood and why I didn’t blog back then.
I laughed and told her when I was her age the idea of keeping a journal or diary was anathema to me. That was school work and I didn’t want any more than I had.
We talk about this and that and she asks me to explain why I lived in one house for most of my childhood and how I knew what schools I was going to go to.
Part of me hates this conversation because I feel a certain amount of guilt about some of the stuff we have been through.
And the hardest part is this feeling like I am back in the nightmare and I can’t wake up.
So I tell her everyone gets a gift of living a different life and that we all get a chance to figure out how we want to live ours.
She asks me if that means we are moving to Texas and I tell here there is a very good chance, but I won’t know until I get some answers to some questions.
“Dad, why do you have to wait for those answers?”
I smile and we talk about trying to figure out when you take action and when you hold still.
“Work smarter, not harder.
You look for moments when you can most effectively use your resources. If I blog about this and use a headline that includes the word ‘blog’ or anything that suggests you can learn how to do it more effectively people will click on it.
But that doesn’t mean they will like it, love it or ever come back. So I want to be smart about it.”
She looks at me, scrunches up her face and tells me that sometimes my advice doesn’t make as much sense as I think it does.
That picture of the waterfall has me entranced.
I keep trying to decide if I would try to climb up it or take a raft over it.
It is a conversation that should have been a part ofÂ Last night I Smoked A Cigar, Drank Some Scotch & Talked About Women.
My grandfathers would have been perfect to speak with about it.
They would have alternated between telling me I was crazy to offering their full support to whatever I decided to do.
At some point one or both would put a hand on my shoulder and ask me if I had considered going around or finding another way to accomplish the climb or rideÂ and it would remind me I didn’t come up with the advice to work smarter and not harder.
Maybe I’d tell them I had no choice but to deal with it because there was no avoiding it. Maybe I’d tell them Churchill was right when he said if you find yourself in Hell you ought to keep going.
Or maybe I’d tell them that I was so wrapped up in trying to figure it all out I had lost perspective and all I could see were black and white answers.
Sometimes a man dances in the fire until he breathes so much smoke he passes out or until enough clears for him to see a safe place to stand.