The JackB

"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

Archives for May 2015

51 Dumb Mothers & The Fathers That Love Them

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Not Inspirational
I don’t remember the first time I read that quote but it has kept me company now for almost a full year.

If you are among those who believe things happen for a reason and that there is something more to this world you might appreciate my saying that part of the reason I have held onto it is because it felt appropriate for this time.

Even if it was nothing more than coincidence it was useful and for that I am grateful, especially because it introduced me to other quotes and excerpts from Murakami like the one below this sentence.

“If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking.”― Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

That line there resonates with me as a father and as a person.

Ask my kids about how many times we have spoken about the value of being your own person and the strength it sometimes takes to move away from the crowd so that you can learn more about yourself as a person and try to focus on what makes you truly happy.

Dad Bloggers and Dads In General

Sometimes the kids ask me for examples of how I do things differently from other people and why.

Can’t tell you how many times I have used blogging as an example and talked about how I don’t play the game the way others do.

But I always tell them there is a contradiction at work in my actions and in life in general.

I tell them they need to figure out when it makes more sense to join the crowd because there are times where it is better to go along to get along.

And then in the next breath I talk about the importance of not doing things just because others are doing it and how sometimes the coolest thing you can be is yourself.

When they ask me if I am going to blog about these conversations I shrug my shoulders and say I don’t really know because I haven’t decided if I should.

“Dad, how do you get more free stuff for us?”

I tell them that it is about connecting with the right people and that because dear old dad doesn’t play the same way many of the others do he doesn’t get invited to join.

“So why not change your style so that you can get more invitations?”

I nod and smile and tell them I prefer to do it on my terms.

“Does that mean that you never try to be a part of the crowd?”

I nod and smile again.

“No, sometimes I fall in line because I hear about a program I want to be a part of and it is easier to get the invite if I adjust how I do things.”

“Daddy, it sounds like you make it up as you go.”

“Bingo! That is exactly how I operate. I make it up as I go and act as I do based upon a gut feeling. It is not logical but it doesn’t need to be for this.

51 Dumb Mothers & The Fathers That Love Them

Add that to the list of ridiculous headlines I have used here.

It is definitely not the craziest but don’t ask me to tell you which one that is because I am too damn tired. If you really need to know you can take a look over here and see what you come up with.

When I first sat down to write this post I played around with writing a more structured piece. I thought about talking about places to get free stock photography, blogging about how to become a better writer or sharing another story about the kids.

I came damn close to integrating all of them.

Would have been easy to share a story about homework hell or what happened when my daughter pierced her ears for the second time.

Could have told you to remember every story has a beginning, a middle and an end but I just didn’t feel like it.

Why?

Because I have this feeling that I am about to finish walking through part of the storm Murakami talks about.

The 10 Year Storm

Truth is I didn’t want to write about how unsettled I feel and the sense that there is not nearly as much support for what I am trying to do as I would like.

Writing won’t change any of those things and I have enough clarity about what my goals and intentions are to not need to write it down.

This new job is fine, but it is not what I want and even though I could be very good at it I need to keep pushing for the next thing.

That is because my gut says I have to go after what I wrote about in How Do You Catch A Dragon? and Life Is About Painting A Picture.

I can’t stay where I am because the ground is crumbling beneath my feet.

What kind of father would I be if I didn’t show my children that you never stop trying to get to where it is you want to go.

Tonight I played two hours of basketball and though I played well I felt empty out there. I felt like a ghost was playing for me and that is not what it is supposed to be about.

There just wasn’t the same amount of joy on the court and that made me feel a bit sad because that place is often where I feel most alive.

I am not the same guy anymore and I don’t feel the need to try and be him. I am too focused on moving into the man I am going to become.

For the moment I am satisfied with trying to enjoy the guy I am but that is only because there is no point in not enjoying the present.

But life is made to be lived and not just passed through and that my friends is precisely why I am going to do what I have to do regardless of how much support I have or not.

P.S. Shamless Shilling

Did you ever read The Fifty Posts You Didn’t Read On New Year’s Eve?

Take a look at it and I promise you’ll find at least two good posts that will hold your attention and entertain you.

How Do You Catch A Dragon?

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Midnight approaches and instead of focusing on how to catch a dragon I am puttering around the house fixing broken toilets, worn out weather stripping and assorted odds and ends.

Two nights ago I found a sleeping teenage boy on the couch and decided I’d carry my boychik up two flights of stairs to bed.


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Why?

Because the face I saw on him was a combination of teenage boy and toddler and I thought it might be nice to carry a sleeping child one last time.

And maybe because in a week I’ll be 46 and carrying 120 some odd pounds of anyone or anything up the stairs is a simple way to make me feel like I can still hunt dragons and outrun the sun one more time.

My plan would have worked if it hadn’t been for those meddling kids, er kid.

He is far too big for me to hold like a football and his length is great enough to make it challenging to carry him up the stairs without banging his head.

So I slung him over a shoulder in a fireman’s carry and began to walk across the room.

We made it up a few stairs before the motion woke him and the now disoriented teen began to thrash around.

You can attribute his not being dropped upon his head upon a father’s instinct to protect his child.

Instead of looking like Captain America saving the day I looked more like Al Bundy flailing around the stairs.

How Do You Catch A Dragon?

My daughter asks me what it is like to spend so much of the day outside of the house for work and I laugh.

She knows there was a time when I went to an office each day but she barely remembers it because the majority of her life I have worked out of a home office.

I tell her I am very tired and she says that I look like it.

“It is always like this when I start a new job. It always takes a bit more energy to get into the swing of it and to figure out what needs to be done and how to do it.

Truth is I don’t know enough yet to ask the right questions.”

“Daddy, what does that mean? You always ask a million questions. How can you not know?”

I laugh and tell her when you are out hunting dragons it takes time to figure out the best way to capture one.

She draws herself up to her full height and stares me in the eyes, “If dragons were real I think you’d try to wrestle one. That is not very smart.”

That girl knows me well and I can’t say she is wrong.

I would wrestle a dragon but give me credit for having gained some sense in my old age.

When I was younger I would have relied on brute strength to beat that beast down and somehow I would have climbed upon its neck and choked it until it passed out but those days are past.

Since dragons can talk I would sit it down and work out a deal and the only way that dragon would get choked out is if he didn’t understand I had just made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

Life Is Too Short

We saw The Avengers on Saturday afternoon.

Afterwards we talked about the movie and I got as much or more pleasure from listening to my son tell me about the superheroes that were in it.

He knew all of them and quite a bit of their individual mythologies.

In the midst of of our conversation I told him about how I remembered seeing Star Wars at a drive-in and he asked me which movie I was talking about.

After he asked me twice more and responded Star Wars both times I realized we had discovered a generation gap because if you ask people who are roughly my age they will always understand I am referring to the original movie and not one of the so-so prequels.

He made some crack about my age and I made one about his and thought about how we have 9-12th grade left to traverse together.

Even if he goes to a local college and lives at home these days are limited. It is a good thing.

But the other point is I know that my time in the workforce is not so short. Unless something changes there are many more to go and I am determined to do what I have to do to find a position that does more than help me earn a buck or pass the time.

I need to be somewhere where I don’t just imagine chasing dragons but can actively work upon catching them.

And I need to be somewhere that provides a different experience than that one I am used to and in some ways know best.

Why?

There is a section of the Mishnah called Pirkei Avot that you can translate as Ethics of Our Fathers. One of the sections within talks about a person receiving three names.

There is the name their parents give them at birth and the name their friends call them by. Finally there is the name they call themselves by and it is that third name that drives me here.

The name I call myself by is only meaningful to me if I make do more than provide lip service to chasing dragons.

Maybe I’ll catch one and maybe I won’t, but either way provides substance and proof that I deserve the name I wish to call myself.

And that is the lesson I want my children to take from all of it. Happiness and sense of self comes from within, our job is to figure it out and find it.

Are Your Expectations Killing You?

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My biggest problem with being shot wasn’t the pain from the bullet in my shoulder but the shock that came from discovering I wasn’t bullet proof.

Had reporters been covering my life none of them would have found it newsworthy for the reasons I did. They knew I couldn’t fly, leap over tall buildings or out drive a locomotive.

Ok, that last part is tied into a true story in which the 20-year-old idiot I used to be took his ’77 Camaro and beat the train across the tracks.

That same idiot trained for hours at the gym and in some ways was a muscle-bound fool who mistook dumb luck for being something other than what it was.

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I have more than one stories about how dumb luck provided cover for the idiocy my dumb ass got himself into but we’ll save those for a different time.

For now let that car story serve as the prime example of why my biggest fear surrounding my children is not pedophiles but imitating their father’s reckless behavior.

Expectations and Time

We are a week past the moments where I wondered if I was standing in my own sunshine and those where we discussed how life is about painting a picture and I’d like to think my head is screwed on straight again because for a moment it wasn’t.

I am not used to that.

I don’t panic.

I don’t flail around when things are going wrong.

I handle it.

I talk about how I have a perfect record of surviving every bad day I have ever had.

But I didn’t handle last week the way I wanted to. I didn’t go into the challenges feeling confident or certain and it threw me for a real loop.

Why?

Because my expectations were that I would handle whatever life threw at me and I would make it work.

Except the thing was that the prison I keep the demons we call doubt, uncertainty and insecurity locked up in was breached.

The damn things figured out how to slip their chains and we went to war.

There was an extended moment in time where those three had me on the ropes and I found it hard to quiet them down.

Instead of looking at accomplishments I kept seeing failure in places where I should have succeeded. And my expectations of myself made it impossible for me to reconcile what was happening.

Are Your Expectations Killing You?

Tuesday night I lay on my bed in my hotel room, closed my eyes, counted to three and swore I would hunt those three demons down and lock them back up.

And that is what I did.

I shined a light in the dark corners of my mind and challenged what lay there to come out and fight.

I did it because I felt an obligation as a father to show my children that when things get tough you can figure it out, but sometimes you have to hang on.

And I did it because I needed to remind myself that I had a choice about whether I would let those three beat me.

I did it because I needed to work through the moment where I had forgotten that our personal expectations about what our lives should be like sometimes hurt us more than anything else.

Eventually I found my center again and accepted that I can climb the mountain in the picture. I don’t have to fly or jump to the top.

Fact is the joy is often in the journey and it is the experiences that come during it in which we learn the most.

Freedom To Write

If you ask me why I have multiple blogs I’ll tell you they serve multiple purposes and that I get something out of each of them.

One of the best is the freedom to write unencumbered by fear of who might read these words.

Why?

Because sometimes you need a place where you dump out the contents of your mind and see what sort of junk has taken refuge within without concern about family, friends or employers getting involved.

Sometimes what you need is the freedom to look at your expectations without judgment so that you can see for yourself that you are the source of your own Kryptonite.

And once you understand that, well then you can fly again.

The Return Of Conversation In Sex & Blogging

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like.

I suspect if I measured him on January 1st and then applied the tape measure to his long, lanky body today I would see a gain of around 2.5 inches.

Could be more, could be less.

Don’t ask me to break out the defiance meter because the growth there has been explosive none of which is unexpected because even though he is his own man he owns enough of my DNA for me not to be surprised.

But his expression of it is different from mine.


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There is a teenager in my house who is growing faster than he realizes and perhaps faster than I

I put my fist through a door all the way up to an elbow, headbutted holes into the wall and tore the doors off of a truck.

They didn’t all happen during one crazy moment, nor did they take place over several months. No, these things happened over the course of five or six years and it started right around when I was the same age as he is now.

You aren’t hearing about this for the purpose of being told how tough, dumb/smart or crazy as was but because it is time to apply a mark upon time and chronicle a moment.

It’s time to remember that part of my acting out was because I refused to discuss much of what bothered me or felt like it was impossible to have a conversation about it.

Conversation Is Critical

Steiner the minor is confused because he feels like he is standing in the midst of Grand Central Station and everyone else knows where they are going.

He wonders why he feels like he is on the outside looking in and doesn’t totally believe me when I say most of us felt that way in middle school.

These moments between us, the ones where he tells me what he is really thinking and feeling are shrinking.

He told me that he only lets me hug him because I am his father and that he doesn’t like it. I laugh and tell him I am going to hug him anyway.

When he asks me why I ignore his wishes I say I am not and pull away, but he doesn’t always let me do it.

The boy is trying to run towards becoming a man and I am torn between pushing/cheering him on and slowing him down because we are on the downhill side of school.

High school starts in the fall and it won’t be long before the little man is in college. Still got a ways to go, but not that long.

So I do my best to help him grow, to learn how to stand on his own and be his own advocate.

I do what I can to help his skin grow a bit thicker but not so much that compassion is lost.

And I try to keep the lines of conversation open because conversation is critical.

He doesn’t know how many times people have complained that I don’t share my thoughts or how back in the day girlfriends would ask how I could be so silent.

He tells me he hates being pressured by the other boys to say whether he likes girls and swears he’ll never have a girlfriend.

When I tell him to ignore it he glares at me but not like he does when I tell him I expect one day girls will be far more interesting than they are now.

“Girls like talking. One day one is going to catch your eye and you’ll wake up wondering what the hell happened. And just when you think you understand it all you’ll realize you don’t.”

“Dad, that is not going to happen. I won’t have a girlfriend and I won’t need to talk to her.”

I tell him there is no rush and that I won’t apologize for saying ‘I told you so.’ He glares at me and asks more questions and I laugh and tell him if I give too many details he’ll need therapy.

He glares at me again, I tell him I love him and wrap him in a bearhug. “Conversation is important monster.”

The Return Of Conversation In Sex & Blogging

I am proud of Life Is About Painting A Picture because there is something about it that just feels good to me. I like the writing and the flow.

But It Is What Every Blogger Wants is still making me smile because it helped move the blogosphere back in time.

And I am like a billion other people, I want a time machine that I can use periodically.

Yeah, I said periodically because I don’t need to go back and change things every day. Some stuff is better now than it used to be so I wouldn’t screw with that.

It doesn’t necessarily have to be the stereotypical stuff, ya know the ‘go back in time and create the Internet, cars or computers thing either.’

Might be as simple as adjusting things so I stay in Texas or make the move to Jerusalem. And let’s not forget that night with…

Ok, let’s skip all that crap and talk about Postmatic again not because I am getting paid to but because using it is what has turned back the clock and restored conversation in blogging.

If you sign up for the emails you get all of the posts and you have the opportunity to comment and reply to comments from your email inbox.

I love the convenience and am enjoying the conversations and community. I didn’t realize how much I missed those, but I did.

You Can’t Stop Time

His hands aren’t as big as mine but they aren’t real little anymore.

If he leaves his shoes out you can’t miss them because they fit feet that almost look too big for his body.

All I have to do is look down at them and I am taken back 30 years in memory because that is what I looked like.

I am almost ready for the big run that is coming, but not quite.

Not talking about an actual run but the acceleration in time that comes with this moment. I remember it from when I was his age and something tells me that I’ll experience it again but this time from the other side of the fence.

You can’t stop time or go back, but you can enjoy the experience and that my friends is what I am doing.