Slow Day

After an Adventure Day, maybe a Slow Day is a good idea.

Nothing too fast, more pragmatic, low to the ground.

Each step taken without angst, expectation, trod on, one by one.

A little laundry, not finished,

A vacuum on the floor for a couple rooms,

Really hot, sprinkler runs on the front lawn, shorts wet, change in the doorway,

Park time, just a bit,

Hot dogs roast,

Dogs walk,

Fire drill (!) before bed,

17 check-ins before sleeping,

3 (?) fan complaints,

Then silence, then slumber,

Then alone, feeling alone, searching for the words to live by,

Striving for the words to live by, reaching, remembering, realigning to the purpose,

Reset for the week, reluctant for a bit, longer a little longer, then stretch,

NIGHT, NIGHT,

GOOD MORNING,

Let’s go,

Thankful for a slow day.

Wicked Lessons

Good lesson yesterday about adjusting, backing off, letting be, trusting.

Letting go of the immediate, the angst.

She taught me that yesterday. A lesson I hope will help us both in the future, especially as she transitions through adolescence to adulthood.

I’ll be ready to listen; I’ll be ready to hold her, support her. And that might must be enough. I’ll do more if asked, but maybe not needed.

Maybe being there will be enough.

Wicked Dad

I remember when I was a kid, sometimes we used the word “wicked” to mean “cool”, etc. I’d like to think I’m a “wicked dad” in that context….but just now, feeling pretty far from it.

Weird day, best intentions sideways, some practical tasks completed, but big picture, I’m feeling wicked in the old-fashioned sense of the word.

My eldest is balling her eyes out, somewhat on purpose it seems, sitting in the closet in a room down the hall. I’m in the kitchen, I can hear her frustrated, anguished cries from her.

Not sure what happened.

She was cross with me when I decided to park farther than she wanted me to from the store entrance earlier in the afternoon. And she gave me the silent treatment all through the store. She’s not even eleven, and I can feel myself pretty much completely befuddled at the whole circumstance.

For all my belief in myself, that I know how to communicate and can adapt to others’ tones, personalities, etc., I’ve not had much luck with women in that regard. In the aggregate. And now I fear, that shortfall is going to extend to my daughters. Hell, maybe my son too…

Not feeling of very high self-esteem as a communicator / relationship problem solver just now.

Seems like I bump along with them, all the kids, sometimes. I don’t lose my cool too much, though sometimes my tone takes on a more…firm character…but when this “cold shoulder” happens…well, I just don’t have an answer.

Except wait. Be patient. Don’t lose the cool. Stay calm. It’s pretty hard, though. Really f*cking hard, actually. My nature is to be really strongly pulled into other people’s emotion, experience, etc. And I KNOW that’s not the right approach, so the struggle is all framed up, bumpy, hard road ahead on this front.

All the same, on we go. How does Brene Brown put it? “We are built for struggle; we are meant for love and belonging.” Something like that.

Yepper.

This sharing not a cry for help, or “whoa as me”, but just a share to share, get it out there, get it off my chest. For anyone reading this who has met me / knows me beyond this blog, sharing so you know what’s up just now with me on this life journey, a little immediate share of bumpiness, a little more context to why I strive for HalfFullAllGood.

Because I’m wicked inside. And not always “cool” ~ but striving, ever striving.

ONWARD.

“I’m Vaccinated”

Not sure who scribbled this one together, but it’s gone viral, and more important, it’s GOOD.

“I’m vaccinated and, no, I don’t know what’s in it – neither this vaccine, the ones I had as a child, nor in the Big Mac, or in hot dogs, or in other treatments…whether it’s for cancer, AIDS, the one for polyarthritis, or vaccines for infants or children. I trust my doctor when he says it’s needed.
I also don’t know what’s in Ibuprofen, Tylenol, or other meds, it just cures my headaches & my pains …
I don’t know what’s in the ink for tattoos, vaping, or every ingredient in my soap or shampoo or even deodorants. I don’t know the long term effect of cell phone use or whether or not that restaurant I just ate at REALLY used clean foods and washed their hands.
In short …
There’s a lot of things I don’t know and never will…
I just know one thing: life is short, very short, and I still want to do something other than just going to work every day or staying locked in my home. I still want to travel and hug people without fear and find a little feeling of life “before”.
As a child and as an adult I’ve been vaccinated for mumps, measles, rubella, polio, chicken pox, and quite a few others; my parents and I trusted the science and never had to suffer through or transmit any of said diseases … just saying.


I’m vaccinated, not to please the government but:

  • To not die from Covid-19.
  • To NOT clutter a hospital bed if I get sick.
  • To hug my loved ones
  • To Not have to do PCR or antigenic tests to go out dancing, go to a restaurant, go on holidays and many more things to come …
  • To live my life.
  • To have kids/grandkids go back to school and play sports.
  • For Covid-19 to be an old memory.
  • To protect us.
    Text copied, you can too.”

Oh yes, so SO agree. And so GOOD.

Get vaccinated.

Anxiety: In the Darkness

Funny thing thinking about, writing about anxiety. I see different angles at different times. No surprise, really.

That’s how anxiety works; that’s how our life experience works. Anxiety is part of it. Sure it can be overwhelming, crippling, devastating, even deadly…but then again, it’s just part of life too.

I don’t experience it in a deadly extreme fashion very often. In fact, not ever.

I’ve never considered checking out, or giving up forever, or crawling, or running, away. It’s fucking hard sometimes, but it hasn’t permanently dominated me (yet), in 54 years on this Earth.

Sure, sometimes is it hard. Sometimes it’s really hard. Sometimes it lays on top of me and won’t let me know. Sometimes it creeps up…

Like in the dark, late last night. Like after going to bed, to sleep at reasonable time, anxiety creeped up on me, unsuspecting. A few hours into the night, just after midnight, I leaped out of bed, and almost punched the wall, thinking it was someone standing there in the dark…

Anxiety waiting for me, looking at me, gently tossing and turning, maybe whispering…

I don’t know…but I didn’t want it there in that moment…don’t want it there, in the darkness…

But if it’s there…well fine…

If it’s there, I might roll over, or I might leap up and punch it in the face,

One thing I do know, I’m not giving up, and I’m not checking out.

Let it come. Come along, anxiety…

In the dark, in the light, how you like…I might not be ready, but come along all the same.

Anxiety: Shape Shifter

It ebbs and flows, anxiety.

It’s a fluid, dynamic thing.

Sometimes it washes over; other times it laps laps laps gently on the shore.

It can turn violent in an instant, that’s my experience.

Anxiety is a shape shifter; it comes in the darkness, finding its way to your demise.

How can it optimize it’s crippling, or at least negative effect deep inside you?

To my own personal experience, it’s not a panic attack; it seems that if I’m ready, awake, prepared, I can soldier on. I don’t panic.

But I don’t like it; or at least, historically I’ve tried to avoid, ignore. I’ve used various means to mediate its grip.

Lately though, I wonder if it’s hell-bent on my demise; maybe that’s not its purpose, its intent.

Maybe that shape-shifter quality is to find it’s way to my most inner, vulnerable side, to help me grow, change, be…better?

Shape-shifter. Maybe anxiety is encouraging me in its own, weird way, to be a shape-shifter too…?

Yea….maybe…

Lyrics Post: “Beast of Burden”

It’s a cool song, “Beast of Burden” by The Rolling Stones.

But it’s the beat, the drums, the drummer, that’s what this post is about.

The band’s drummer, Charlie Watts, died this week at the age of 80. Listening to a remembrance on the radio, I was struck by two points.

First, he is regarded as one of the best drummers of all time, but not because he was flashy or particularly complicated in his playing,; instead, it was because he was steady. Watts provided a constant for the other musicians to play on top of – he was unwavering and reliable.

The other highlight was the fact that he was jazz fan and musician at heart; and yet. he played with one of the greatest rock and roll bands in history his entire life.

So here’s to you, Charlie.

Oh, and this lyric? Not bad either…

“Beast Of Burden”

I’ll never be your beast of burden
My back is broad, but it’s a-hurting
All I want, for you to make love to me
I’ll never be your beast of burden
I’ve walked for miles, my feet are hurting
All I want is for you to make love to me

Am I hard enough?
Am I rough enough?
Am I rich enough?
I’m not too blind to see

I’ll never be your beast of burden
So let’s go home and draw the curtains
Music on the radio
Come on, baby, make sweet love to me

Am I hard enough?
Am I rough enough?
Am I rich enough?
I’m not too blind to see

Oh, little sister
Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty girls
You’re a pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty girl
Pretty, pretty, such a pretty, pretty, pretty girl
Come on, baby, please, please, please

I’ll tell you, you can put me out on the street
Put me out with no shoes on my feet
But put me out, put me out
Put me out of misery, yeah
All your sickness, I can suck it up
Throw it all at me, I can shrug it off
There’s one thing, baby, I don’t understand
You keep on telling me I ain’t your kind of man

Ain’t I rough enough? Ooh, honey
Ain’t I tough enough?
Ain’t I rich enough? In love enough?
Ooh, please

I’ll never be your beast of burden
I’ll never be your beast of burden
Never, never, never, never, never, never, never be
I’ll never be your beast of burden
I’ve walked for miles, my feet are hurting
All I want is you to make love to me, yeah
I don’t need no beast of burden
I need no fussing, I need no nursing
Never, never, never, never, never, never, never be”

Writers: Keith Richards, Mick Jagger