The usual litany of excuses as to not posting continues unabated. The accompanying litany of excuses is faring worse, I’m afraid, so I just won’t apologize any more. That’s the thing about creative spurts: when your energies are directed at dancing on the precipice of sanity and chaos, sometimes the the workers go on strike at the Creative Juice Factory. The beauty of being an unpaid observer of these times is that there are no deadlines nor expectations in this realm, so really, I’ve just been wantonly neglecting you three readers with reckless abandon. Feels pretty good too.
So let’s talk about it, fulfill your morbid wonderment as to what’s happening. Lots and nothing all at once, if I’m being frank. And I haven’t been Frank in a long while. Normally, I try and dazzle you with witty bullshit, putting lipstick on the hog that is my life. If you kiss her, that’s your deal, friend.
It boils down to this: life doesn’t suck. It just takes a while for me to appreciate that every now and again. Here’s what I mean:
1.) The Heathens have taken their new school in stride, getting into their own delicious blend of trouble that therapists would characterize as a result of a home breaking up, a change in housing and schools. Minor trouble or not, they’re my boys, so I’ll get their back in public, then withhold their meals and affection when they get to my house as a form of passive/aggressive punishment (RELAX, psychos, and realize I’m joking. Kinda). Overall? They’re incredibly good kids taking a emotional hurricane in as much stride as they can muster. They make their old man proud with this display of fortitude in a storm. I’m sure they’ll repay me by strapping me to my wheelchair and shoving me into a deep pool when the moment is just right.
2.) Moving from a house that was over 3X bigger than this current cozy little crack den is something of a good thing. SOOOOO much less room to hoard all of those treasures I collected from 1987-now. Rather than looking at renting a mini-storage unit, I think a wiser investment might be to rent a 40yd. trash dumpster for a week or two. But don’t NOBODY touch that life size photo of my mother, father and I in 1976, they in turtlenecks and cigarettes, I in what looks to be home-made leiderhosen. That could come in handy some day, I think. See above photo for another treasure I stumbled across. You’re welcome.
3.) In a time when people are without jobs, roofs over their heads or people to love them, I am relatively incredibly wealthy. The bank got our house, the haters got a public forum to criticize those foolish choices I made which all came to a head when my marriage crumbled and the righteous got a chance to exercise their judgment skills. All roads for which I am responsible, but ultimately, choices that lead me to where I am. I wouldn’t trade this time I’ve been given with my boys for anything. I’ve learned a little about grace and a lot about humility. I seek forgiveness from those I’ve wronged, and if they choose to offer it, I’m grateful. If not, that’s okay, too…..they’ll have plenty of other grist for their mills soon enough.
So, the holidays are here now, and while it’s become painfully obvious why they can be such a boon for the anti-depressant industry, I keep looking for the good that surrounds us. And? I keep finding it.
I have a neighbor who is a cop. He doesn’t talk much. I have another neighbor who is a drug dealer. He’s friendly, but I chalk that up to the fact that he’s in sales. My own house is a mess. But, it is our attempt at home and from this corner of our neighborhood, it looks pretty good.