I Double Space After Periods

There are some noises that grate on your nerves in a way that makes me imagine a hot poker up my ass might be less painful.

You might call that hyperbole and I might even agree with you but the truth is for some reason those few noises that bother me do more than touch a single nerve.

They hit all of them and a few I didn’t know exist in a way that makes it almost impossible to ignore them.

I can’t provide specific details about how they do this which frustrates me to no end because if I understood it I might be able to fix it.

You do know that is what we men do, we fix things or at least make an attempt to take what is broken and make it whole again.

Sometimes it works and we declare that victory is ours and sometimes it doesn’t and we are forced to bow our heads and say we have failed.

Father Doesn’t Always Know Best

My teenager has figured out that father doesn’t always know best and has chosen to use that knowledge as a cudgel he can swing at my head.

It is part anger and part fear and I am more than partly bothered by it.

Some of it is because I feel his anger and frustration and recognize how unsettling it is to recognize that you can always expect your parents to solve the problems you face.

But in the midst of my understanding and disappointment there is joy and happiness because I see him working out solutions.

I see him standing on his own and figuring life out and that makes me want to shake my fist in approval.

Why?

Because the purpose of being his dad isn’t to encase him in bubble wrap and handle his affairs. It is to teach him how to manage his life and to understand that I am available for consultation.

Sometimes that means he has to come to me and sometimes it means I’ll come to him and hope he has the good sense to listen to me.

I do know a few things. I have lived a little bit and figured out that Time Is a Bitch.

Sometimes people are too. Sometimes they disappoint you. Sometimes they unfriend you.

Sometimes they do both.

I Double Space After Periods

I double space after periods and ask questions like Why Are Clowns Sexier Than Mimes?

Sometimes those questions sound ridiculous but they often are tied into something serious and deeper. They are often tied into things that touch my heart and play upon my soul.

That is a central part of why I blog.

It is a constant search for truth, my truth and it is part of why you see so many pictures and quotes here.

The life of a writer isn’t always as simple as others. There are a million people living inside my head and they all want a chance to speak and to be heard.

To be heard.

That is a big one.

An important one.

It is a big part of why so many of us blog.

We want to be heard.

We want to be noticed.

We want to be appreciated.

Awards Are Nice

Been a long time since I won any awards for my writing and though I write regardless of acknowledgement or notice it would be nice to be seen and heard.

It would be nice for someone to say you have mastered your craft as well as any other and we are pleased to let you know we noticed.

My daughter noticed our house is smaller than many of the homes her friends live in and asked me how I chose my profession.

“Dad, I know doctors and lawyers make a lot more money than writers do. What made you decide to become a writer?”

I asked her if she was frustrated that our house isn’t as nice as some of the ones her friends live in.

“Not really, but it would be nice to travel like they do.”

Her words made me smile and I told her I appreciated her desire to see more places and do more things.

“Possessions can be taken, but experiences and education are forever.”

“Abba, you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Jerusalem stole my heart and touched my soul. Had things gone a little bit differently I would have made aliyah and you’d be soldier’s daughter.”

“I thought Texas took your heart too.”

“It took pieces of it as did some other places and people. One day I’ll visit and or move and the parts I left will sing their song again with the rest of me.”

 

I try not to spend much time thinking about whether we are winners or losers because I already know how I view the world.

Children of the seventies played in the mud and rain without fear of injury. We slid down metal slides during the height of summer and didn’t cry if the slide was hot enough to cook an egg on.

We did what was required and managed our lives same as I teach my children to do.

Ask me if I am a reasonable man and I’ll say “it depends” and then go double space after periods and work on murdering the Oxford comma.

Change happens whether we want it to or not but it doesn’t mean we can’t do our best to manage our reactions and responses to it.

Midnight has come and gone and it is time for me to try to sleep. Hopefully the noises that grate upon my nerves so vibrantly have ceased and sleep will come sooner than later.

Lailah Tov from Los Angeles, I am out of here.

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