Thought

I wonder if my son will ever knew how often I lose sleep because I'm worried about him

My roommate

My roommate has no inside voice when it comes to talking on the phone. 

I'm in the back of the house and I can tell he's on the phone in the driveway.  How can I tell?  CAUSE HE HAS NO INSIDE VOICE WHEN HE'S ON THE PHONE!

I was being serious when I said that. 

You may be thinking that he's louder because he's outside on the driveway.

No. 

Even if he were inside the house, the only requirement is that he's on the phone.  That's when he starts yelling, no matter what the subject is.  It's fucking bizarre.

I think I can even tell, from my sneaky vantage point of my room, minding my own business what they're talking about.  Sounds like Fantasy Football stuff. 

Next time, I'll try to get video to accompany.

Thanksgiving

9:32 in the morning.

My roommate just got through arguing with his son about letting him get some rest after working all night before moving on to wherever to celebrate Thanksgiving. 

I'm almost out of medicine and I'm typing with my thumb as I write. 

Things could be worse. 

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Memory

I don't know why, but I've been thinking about one particular incident when I took him to Chuck E. Cheese for his birthday.  Not a funny incident or anything, and I'm not trying to sell some drama; it was just a time.

He had his tickets and he was cashing out.  I was watching him when he dropped his head and said he was hoping he had enough tickets for Airheads.  The employee heard him, took his tickets and gave him an Airhead.  I thanked him and my son was happy.

I really really want him to stay that age, where the biggest thing he had to worry about was getting an Airhead.  I really do.

There was another time..this one pissed me off and reminded me of when I was a boy, made fun of by the others before I came into my own.

He told me he asked his cousin, who had recently started going to his school, why she ignored him and was mean to him.  She answered true and that's what makes it shitty.  She told him that she was like that because the other kids in the school didn't like him and they would ask her if she was friends with my son and things.  Petty, harsh things about my son. 

But then he broke my heart. 

I remember clearly, word for word, him saying, "I can't blame her.  I know if I was in that situation, I wouldn't want them making fun of me."

That still hurts, to this day.  What hurts worse is that I didn't have the words to give at the time. 

When I replay it in my mind, I'm wise and articulate.  "You don't have to put up with that, son," I'd say.  "You tell her that she's a shithead and forget her!  You tell her you don't want anything to do with her because you're amazing and you don't need her."

But no.  I didn't have this words and it wouldn't have mattered if I did.  He loves his cousin and he wouldn't say that to her. 

What happened instead is that I put my arm around him.  I doubt even think I said anything.  Just an arm.  I'd like to think that was enough at the time.  I'd like to think he understood everything I wanted to say just by force of will.  I'd like to think that.

I'd like to think that wasn't a time when I was bad at being a father, but I think I'd just be wrong about that.

Dream

I just woke up from a dream.

That sounds like a cool and ominous opening to a blog much like this one, but I mean it.  I just woke up.

I dreamt that my best friend and I were at some crazy mall that had more than one comic store and an upstairs.  A parade of mascots with large heads and furry bodies were walking and dancing through the middle of the mall to the delight of some and the irritation of others. 

I was looking around and didn't find anything.  I found my buddy talking to one of my long-time idols in art.  They were talking about engraving a name plate, but I don't think I learned what the plate was for.

He offered to autograph the comics he drew if I brought them to him.  So I ran.  I had to find a book by this artist because it was closing time and I'd probably never get this opportunity again, ever.  But everyone was closed.  No one had what I needed. 

I think that last line is a good place to stop and probably the most important line of the entire entry.

What I mean by that is life is so much better when you aren't counting on someone else.  You want something, you work for it.  You don't give up until you get there.  As I said yesterday, I've a long history of getting bogged down in the day-to-day activities and not staying focused on what the ultimate goal.

The ultimate goal should be whatever you want out of life.  Imagine Bruce Wayne, age six or eight or whenever, sitting there between the smoking corpses of his parents, tears beading up on his eyes and beads strewn across the pavement.  He vowed right then he would fight crime.  Twenty years later, he is the Batman and fighting for justice.  He got there through hard work and that's how you win in life.

I don't really think the dream was anything more than a hodge podge of things I've been thinking about lately, but I do think the representation can be a lot bigger, once you look beneath the surface.  The goal is clear and the course is set. 

The Returnx2

So, I'm looking to restart my blog.  I've deleted Facebook so that I won't have any where to write but here.  I've started writing scripts again.  I'm going to bust my ass to get what I want out of life, because I've let too many distractions get in the way.

So, if you're reading this, I hope you'll come back to see how things are going, even if I don't hear from you.  Right now, the idea that a silent audience, an invisible presence is cheering me on could be the only thing that keeps me going. 

That sounds a little like religion, but it's not supposed to. 

So, again, today isn't Saturday and it isn't November 15th.  Today is Day One.

01.08.14

"Goddamn it, you've got to be kind."

8/365