Don’t look back..

So I watched “Walter Mitty” tonight.  One of my favorite movies.  Always inspires me.  Not for very long, but still.  Anyway, decided to come down and type out some post about how arguing on Facebook is like combat, but I got to reading my old posts.

I’ve cried about three times now.  Once when I realized just how far I haven’t moved in four years.  I could tell the manic days, so full of hope.  The dream to do whatever came to mind and not let the world stop me.  Well, the world stopped me.  Most times I am too low on motivation to try and push back.  Other times I just don’t see the point in trying to.

The second was reading the joyful days, the happy memories.  The trip to Worlds of Fun with the family, seeing Video Games Live with the wife.  Such happy memories.  Not enough of those it seems.  I’m wrong.  There are lots, they just never seem to make the impression the bad days do.  My wife had to start keeping track of the things we did on the calendar to show that we do, in fact, do stuff.  There is a lot there, just nothing big in a several years.

The third time was while reading some of the darker days.  “Snapped” specifically.  That was a dark time, one of my lowest.  I’m glad I haven’t gone that far down in quite a while, and I’m glad I made it through.  It does worry me that the very same things I ranted about that night are the same things I rant about now.  These things bother me very deeply, and yet I have the same problems now as I did then.  What if I get that low again?  Could I stop myself knowing that I’ve accomplished nothing in the last four years except prove how much of a worthless human I really am?  That’s when I cried for the first time, again.

I hate being weepy.  Anyway, just a scream into the void.  Fuck editing.

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Return from Death

The boulder begins to shift as you watch.  You heard their was a storyteller who used to live here, long ago.  You journeyed for miles upon miles to get a chance to sit at the feet of this wise old man as he spins his next tale, and yet all you found was a boulder sitting in the center of the path.  You waited for what seemed like years in hopes that he would return.  

At first, you thought the movement was just your imagination playing tricks on you after all this time.  You rub your eyes and continue to watch the large stone that almost looks like a tombstone from this distance.  It moves!  Once again the boulder shifts, knocking dust and moss loose to the path below.  You are on your feet now, the excitement building within your breast.  Yet another shift!  This one actually slid the rock ever so slightly to one side. 

You rush to it’s side wanting to help but knowing that the stone is simply too large for you to move.  You shout encouragements at the stone who would be a grave.  “Come on!  You can do it!  Just a little more!”  The stone slides again and beneath it you see the tip of dirty finger, crusted with mud and the ravages of time.  “Please, I know you can do it again!  Please come back to me, to the world!”  With one last push, the boulder rolls away to rest beside the path and before you stands the storyteller you came to see.

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People ask me,

“What are you going to do with your life?”

“You have no training, no education,

a broken history littered with bad decisions.”

“You are nothing.”

I would like to say this to them:

I want to create.

I don’t know what,

a book, a movie, a game, a painting

But I want to create.

I may be a nothing now

But the best thing about art,

It turns nothing into something special.

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Try not. Do.

As big of a geek as I am, I’ve never really thought about those immortal words given to us by the wise Yoda, but I probably should have. Most people know the quote as “Do, or do not. There is no try.” I prefer my version better.

We all know “try” exists, we’ve all done it. “I’ll try to quit smoking. I’ll try to lose weight.” Inevitably, we fail because we tried.

When we TRY, we open ourselves to the possibility of failure, acknowledging the fact that it is an option. We tend to allow ourselves excuses, but at least we tried. I myself have TRIED to quit smoking, and I’ve failed every time. “Today was too stressful. I was too bored, I need something to distract me.” My biggest one: “It’s just too hard.”

I know quitting smoking is hard, but necessary. I also know that it is possible, plenty of people have done it, just as you know it is possible to lose weight, or whatever you are TRYING to do. We simply need to stop trying and just do it. Remove all possibility of failure from our minds and do it. I know it is easier said than done, but nothing worthwhile is easy.

Motivational speakers have attempted to tell us all along that visualization is key to achieving our goals. The simple way we think about our problem will, more often than not, determine the outcome. When we TRY, we see the avenues of failure, allowing them to guide the results. When we DO, we erase doubt and the chance of failure, increasing the odds of success. Sure, we may still fail at some things, but in the end, success will come more often to those who DO and not TRY.

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Oh crap, here come the Holidays

The holidays are always a trying time of year for even the best of us, but being emotionally unstable can make them especially so.

It is no secret that I don’t like holidays, especially Christmas and Thanksgiving.  They have mutated beyond what they were meant for and are simply commercial balls of crap.  Halloween is the only one I like and it is one of the biggest commercial holidays, but it doesn’t try to hide it under layers of bullshit like the others.  Buy costumes and candy and go have fun.  No muss and no fuss.

This Halloween was a pretty crappy one.  I have no one to blame but myself for this, but there it is.  I’ve talked about the “family age” problem that I’ve run into, and that still holds true.  My kids are too old and my friend’s kids are too young.  I have no parties to go to, no friends to hang out with, no family to go bug.  The one holiday where everyone else gets to act like me, and I can’t even participate.  For the only party that I even heard of, I was asked to babysit.  *sigh*

I get torn between two ways of looking at the holidays: Either spend them with family that doesn’t speak to me any other time of year and feel miserable, or stay home and feel bad that I’m not spending time with family.  I would rather not celebrate either of the next two holidays, but I really can’t avoid it.  They are EVERYWHERE.  Seriously, try to find somewhere to go that isn’t draped in one decoration or another.  I’d be perfectly happy spending the day at a bar having a drink with my wife, but we don’t do that.

On a side note: I really need someone to talk to, just normal conversation like a normal adult.

I’ve been trying to prepare myself mentally for the coming onslaught, but I’m sure it won’t matter.  I will get depressed again, but at least I know that I’ve been doing really well the past few months so I should be able to make it to January.

Side Note 2:  I’m really enjoying making props and thing.  I’m getting better at it and learning a whole bunch.  If I could find a way to make money at it, I would.

Let me know what is your least favorite holiday in the comments below.

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Daddy Daughter Time

After reading DorkDaddy’s blog from the other day (see previous reblog) I got to thinking about my own daughter and her path to adulthood.

I’ve probably mentioned before that we are pretty close.  For a while there, she was not only my daughter, but my best friend.  We were Dork Buddies!  She is the only one I feel I can be completely myself with.

And she’s gone.

I know she’s not really gone, but it feels that way sometimes.  I know all kids grow up and move on, but it still feels like she’s gone.

WARNING!!!  Crazy Thoughts Ahead!  WARNING!!!

For the last few years, since she turned 18, we’ve been growing slowly apart.  She has her boyfriend that she spends her time with, she doesn’t need Daddy to be the man in her life anymore.  It breaks my heart just thinking that.  Once we were inseparable, now I’m lucky if I see her at all.

She moved out recently.  It’s a big step, a major milestone in a young person’s life to get that first apartment of your own.  I didn’t get to help her move out, she just kinda ninja’d everything out the door.  I would have liked to help, but she didn’t really need my help. (SOB)  My mother asked me last week if I had gone to visit her in the new place.  I had not.  She asked me why.  I didn’t know, I just hadn’t.

Now I know why I had yet to visit.  The wife and I went shopping with her today and then went over to drop off her stuff at the apartment.  It’s a pretty nice place, in case you were wondering.  The visit was short, but long enough to put the second-to-last nail in my heart coffin.  I realized that if I never saw the apartment, then it wouldn’t be real.  I only saw her once a week anyway, so I could just convince myself that nothing had changed.  Now I know its real.  Now I know that my little girl had grown up while I wasn’t looking.

All of that is a little sad, but a normal part of our children growing up.  The rest of my thoughts and feelings are probably not so real or normal.

I realized that, while we were close, we are not as close as I thought.  Not in the ways I think really matter.  We almost never talk about anything serious, just dorky stuff.  We laugh a lot when we are together, my favorite thing to do is make her laugh, but when it comes to something real, she just whispers to her mother in the kitchen.  In the last eleven years, we have had very few real conversations, apart from lecturing her about some stupid mistake she made growing up.  I’m sure my wife thinks I’m closer to her own daughter than she is, but I disagree.  I’m a close friend, but she is the closer parent.

I also realize as I’m writing this that the wife and I very rarely have serious conversations either.  I know she is afraid of my reaction to anything she wants to talk to me about.  I get it, I am a bit unstable, but sometimes things need to be said.  I also rarely have deep talks with my friend.  We’ve had a few, and I always feel special to be involved in his life when we do, but it is a rare occurrence.  Am I just not someone people take seriously?  I do joke and try to make people laugh, but I’m just as emotional and real as anyone.

The paranoia in me feels that no one does take me seriously.  Maybe I’m not even real.  Maybe I’m a little crazier than I thought and thats why people tiptoe around me.  Maybe I’m just not a good friend.  I have such an aversion to interrupting people’s lives that I quickly lose touch with people.  I don’t feel I am worthy of their time, that they have something better to do than spend time with me.

I’m going to cry like a baby at her wedding, I’m welling up now just thinking about it.  I hope it won’t be for a while, but it might as well be tomorrow as fast as she is growing up.  I wonder what would our Daddy/Daughter dance be to.  Some sappy song that doesn’t really mean much to us, probably.  What I do know is that I will take a hankie with me so I don’t get her dress too wet from the tears.

Everyone, call your parents/children and tell them how much you love them and miss them.  Believe me, they can never hear it enough.

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Surfer Girl

A touching story that hit me right in the feels.

letter every once in a while when we were kids, my dad used to crank up his old man music and do his own version of the DorkDaddy thing. Usually it was either folk music from the Kingston Trio, or The Beach Boys – turned up loud enough to make the dog leave the room. I do the same thing to my kids today, only these days the “old man music” is Def Leppard and Bon Jovi.

30 years ago when the Beach Boys album was pumpin’ and the dog was hiding under the bed, “Surfer Girl” would come on and my dad would swoop up one (or both) of my little sisters. He’d put them on his toes and dance with them in his arms, singing the lyrics (falsetto and all) as if the song was written just for them.

Ever since she was in Jr. High, my baby sister…

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