2015

I moved across the country.
I lost weight, and gained it back.
I read twenty-three books.  Not one of them was the one I promised to read.
I literally, “leaped for joy,” upon learning of my wife’s pregnancy.
I starred in a movie and made several.
My son taught me how to be a triceratops.  I taught him about bacon.
I was unemployed. “Sorry, we’re going in a cheaper direction.”
But, then I got a job.
I wore a tuxedo, and cried at a wedding.
But then my baby died.  I held him in my arms, only once, for fear I wouldn’t let him go again.
We put him in the ground, and I held my wife.
And, then I went to work.
I made new friends.
I tried new food.
I cried a lot. 
I began working on my novel again.  We’ll see how it works out.
I have not visited his grave.
Christmas is supposed to be a happy time of year.
All I want is for it to be September 8th, and for him to still be here.
But time is a constant.
Thanksgiving was good.
I’ve whispered “I love you” into my son’s ear, on a consistent basis.
I’ve watched Star Wars twice.
I’ll see it again, soon.
I don’t like resolutions.
But I will promise myself, this:

I will not stop.  I will continue.  I will learn how to breathe again.
I will make him proud.
I love you, Isaac.

Throwback Thursday or My New Old Best Friend

Dear God,

First, thank you for today.  I love it when I wake up and I’m still here.  Now, secondly, thank you for my brother, Richard.  When we were younger neither of us were very good at the whole “being a supportive brother” thing, but now that we’ve grown, I couldn’t ask for a better friend.

This isn’t my typical blog post, but it’s something that’s been pressing on my heart.  I need to say these things and not just privately.

Fifteen years ago if you had asked me what I thought of my younger brother I would tell you “I love him.”  Or I would have made a fat joke.  (Oh, the irony.)  What I wouldn’t tell you is this:

He is funny, charming, intelligent, honorable, kind, and fair-minded.  He has been nothing short of a beacon of support for me in any endeavor I have ever had, and doesn’t speak to me as if one day I will be successful, but as if I already am.  Do I have disagreements with him?  Of course, one could say “all the time,” but they are no longer fights, they are conversations.  Do I think he’s obnoxious?  Incredibly.  But then again, so am I.  I like to blame it on being a Gemini, but the stars hold little sway on my behavior, not nearly as much as I do.

No idea who all those other people are.

When I was younger I was indifferent to this “younger” person who was not smaller than me.  I know, if you ask him, he would say I was a horrible older brother.  I wasn’t mean, and I cared about him deeply.  That being said our relationship never really evolved past the point it was when my parents brought him home from the hospital:

“If I hit him (physically or emotionally) he’ll make noise, and often times he’ll make enough noise or the wrong noise, and he’ll get in trouble instead of me.”  Like the time when I poked him and he threw himself through a table in order to get me in trouble for pushing.  As quick and clever as the plan was, our mother saw through it.  #Skills

It wasn’t until I was 21 that I stopped this.  When I was diagnosed with testicular cancer, and despite all of our previous history, my brother showered me with support.  I let a lot of things go during chemotherapy, to say nothing about my hair.  I don’t usually sweat the small stuff (outside of food in restaurants) anymore, and hurting my brother for sport had no more appeal.  It was childish.  And though, not intended, it was cruel.

Now, not all of the change was me, but it was enough.  I have found that this crusty Tech Sergeant is and has always been my best friend.  And I can’t thank God enough for bringing him into my life on that June morning, so many years ago.

Love,

T2

I make no promises.

Blogging, like most anything worthwhile, takes commitment.  That being said, I have more pressing commitments.  So, am I giving up on this blog?  No.  I will blog when I have something to blog about.  That being said, I don’t really have anything to blog about right now.  So, I’ll just let you, my three devoted readers, know what’s going on with me nowadays, by analyzing my other, more pressing commitments:

Commitment #1: Being a husband.

April and I are on different schedules.  And I don’t mean that when I’m at work, she’s home and vice versa, I mean I go to bed late and she goes to bed early.  Our time together is limited.  Now, we see plenty of each other when the two year-old is awake, but that isn’t husband and wife time, it’s father and mother time.  So, my time with April is precious to me.

We just finished watching “Legend of Korra, Book 2: Spirits” last night.  ‘Twas awesome.  Between waiting for our mutual television addictions to start airing again, and our desire to annihilate one another in well-played matches of Hearthstone, we get our quality time in.

My favorite part of every day is listening to her tell me about her day.  The time she spent away from me.  It allows me to feel like I participate in more of her life than I’m physically capable of.

Commitment #2: Being a father.

It is easy to turn on Netflix and let the television watch my son.  But when my son looks back I want him to remember the times we played, and laughed, and climbed, and jumped, and soared.  I don’t want him to look back and remember my back turned to him, playing on my computer, as he watched the television on repeat.  And so I don’t take the easy road.

A two year-old has a nuclear power supply somewhere inside of them; I’m guessing, of course, as I have not opened up my son to find out–there are laws against such things.  But this boy does not stop.  He goes and goes and goes.  Thus, commitment number two, is tiresome.  Not in the annoying sort of way, more so the “thank God you’re home Mom, I need a break” kind of way.  Whether or not Mom has had a busy day at work or not, I usually don’t care upon her arrival from home.

Commitment numero dos affects numero uno.

That being said, when you ask my son what his name is, he replies “Awesome!”  And that he is.

Commitment #3: Being a writer.

There are different schools of thought as to what consists of “writing” every day.  My process is this:

Step 1) I come up with an idea.
(This can be a character, a scene, a theme, or whatever nugget of creativity sparks further thought.)

Step 2) I outline.
(This process can take an hour, or months.  Sometimes I don’t physically write anything at all, but I continue to think about the story, and it’s elements, and how they fit together.)

Once the whole project is outlined I: Step 3) I write.
(This usually doesn’t take too long.  Two days to two weeks is my usual writing time for a draft.  Once I start, I don’t stop.)

That being said, to the outsider, it often appears that I’m sitting around doing nothing, or goofing off.  But I’m working.  I’m writing.

So, yeah.  As you can see, I don’t really have time for blogging.  And though I love the concept of keeping a daily journal of thoughts, observations, story ideas, and well, just to stay in the habit of putting fingers to keyboards, I make no promises.  More posts soon.

 

*winky face*