Not sure where my time goes, but I have a fair share of free time. I used to blog a bit in hopes of filling content that could lead to pageviews and thus revenue from AdSense clicks. Nothing worthwhile came of the blah. I have moments when I review stuff I wrote and wonder about its origins. If I consumed alcohol or other mindbenders, I'd be better able to explain my lack of memory or the fact that I've had reoccurring thoughts that I never acted upon.
My wife is nine months pregnant with our third child, and I find myself thinking I don't remember being around doing the previous two pregnancies aside from conception and delivery. I have reasons for my aloofness, but they are silly. I was trying to not feel the pain I felt when we had a miscarriage.
I love my children and appreciate them more given that we suffered the loss. I am hardly the best I can be, and I have not settled for being a second rate husband and father, yet I have my blah days where I am on cruise control of selfish interests of isolation.
It's Christmas, and I can safely say my Christmases as an adult have been better than those I had prior to my meeting J. Life is too short not to appreciate each moment, yet I find myself reflecting here. I suppose that it could be worse, like playing video games, watching sports, or another mindless thing that is like empty caloric consumption.
Just a reminder to myself that blog entries should exist reflecting upon AAA tow truck drivers, ImproveIt
repairmen, random mouse in the house, reconstituting the crib, Garmin
GPS failure, Skinny Dip, Richard Zacks, FM/AM radio failure, Mazda5s, letter of apology from CENLAR, and seeing family after 5 years as though nothing happened to cause an estrangement.
Last thought of tonight: When I was at work the other night, the kids there had skateboards. I remember when skating wasn't cool.
Showing posts with label Carl Hiaasen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Carl Hiaasen. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Monday, November 4, 2013
Carl Hiaasen's Bad Monkey
My beautiful better half, J, is why I believe in God. Not because she spouts about deep stuff, but rather because she tolerates an insufferable fool like me though my main contribution to our marriage is my being a lackluster father to our AMAZING children.
I met J in the most unlikely of all places when I was not remotely looking for love, let alone a soul mate.
J and I have enough in common to be agreeable to most things. True, we have grown closer in the years together that we're like a battery in a no-hitter, but I remain mostly daft about a number of rougher diamond qualities I may possess. I have attention issues where my priorities are aligned a skewed from what hers may be. She calls it laziness. I simply have a mental block with forwardness. My brain and body tend to linger in neutral too long between shifting towards action. Lazy seems to be a more deliberate act than what I feel my meandering is. Sure I am idle due to lack of motivation, but a lot of the time I get mentally bogged down by details. I piss my time away to avoid going forward. I lack confidence. If I have an inkling of doubt about something I am too quick to put said thing onto the back burner.
With that said, J has been a wonderful prod to push me past a few fears. I have a blame defect in I prefer to be free of blame. Willful ignorance is the key to my happiness, some days. Other days, I am consumed by my thoughts regarding minute details about things that are ultimately out of my control.
I started reading Bad Monkey at J's urging, but found I didn't like it on the Nook. She got the hardcopy of it and I read it in a few days(I'm in the middle of book I want to finish but can never find time, while I seem to only be able to listen to DAD IS FAT when I was carving pumpkins). BAD MONKEY is a must read. It's good in a Nero Wolfe mystery sort of way, but funny in a Denis Leary THE JOB, sort of way. Block is funny, but not funny like Carl Hiaasen.
Incidentally, looked up Carl Hiaasen's column and I am not impressed. Dude's commentary sounds like he's filled with douched bodily fluids of certain ideologues that lack a sense of humbleness. Also his pic from his column re-enforces this notion by his resembling Norm MacDonald of SafeAuto fame.
Where the heck is time going? I must be in a trance or something hypnotic for I feel like I'm missing days a lot of the time much like Billy Pilgrim coming unstuck in time. Maybe it's the isolated moments I have making my brain do a cruise control where I am like dolphin sleeping.
I met J in the most unlikely of all places when I was not remotely looking for love, let alone a soul mate.
J and I have enough in common to be agreeable to most things. True, we have grown closer in the years together that we're like a battery in a no-hitter, but I remain mostly daft about a number of rougher diamond qualities I may possess. I have attention issues where my priorities are aligned a skewed from what hers may be. She calls it laziness. I simply have a mental block with forwardness. My brain and body tend to linger in neutral too long between shifting towards action. Lazy seems to be a more deliberate act than what I feel my meandering is. Sure I am idle due to lack of motivation, but a lot of the time I get mentally bogged down by details. I piss my time away to avoid going forward. I lack confidence. If I have an inkling of doubt about something I am too quick to put said thing onto the back burner.
With that said, J has been a wonderful prod to push me past a few fears. I have a blame defect in I prefer to be free of blame. Willful ignorance is the key to my happiness, some days. Other days, I am consumed by my thoughts regarding minute details about things that are ultimately out of my control.
I started reading Bad Monkey at J's urging, but found I didn't like it on the Nook. She got the hardcopy of it and I read it in a few days(I'm in the middle of book I want to finish but can never find time, while I seem to only be able to listen to DAD IS FAT when I was carving pumpkins). BAD MONKEY is a must read. It's good in a Nero Wolfe mystery sort of way, but funny in a Denis Leary THE JOB, sort of way. Block is funny, but not funny like Carl Hiaasen.
Incidentally, looked up Carl Hiaasen's column and I am not impressed. Dude's commentary sounds like he's filled with douched bodily fluids of certain ideologues that lack a sense of humbleness. Also his pic from his column re-enforces this notion by his resembling Norm MacDonald of SafeAuto fame.
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