Thursday, October 29, 2015

being a dad

This is hands down the most awkward thing to have to talk about. I'm four years into this trial and feel like I am getting a little better at it as the days go on but there is so much that I have to worry and think about that I always feel like I'm going to miss something that is ultimately important to the process and truly screw these kids up.

I have a daughter and two sons, 4, 2, and six month respectively.  the youngest I have no worries about right now, because to him, I'm merely a go between on the time that he is a asleep  or fussy or gassy to when he gets a breast put in his face... he's easy. my older boy he is a cause for me to worry because I am stuck in a wonderfully awkward position of having to be fatherly and raise him to be a boy that will become a man... and I hardly feel qualified for the job. And the girl... oh man... what the hell am I to do there... she is the complete opposite of me... I understand noting of how her little brain works, and yet, I sure as shit have to teach her too... but what?

for the boys that's easy, I need to teach them to be the right kind of man. One that stands up when he must and knows the right time to step back and let life play its course. I have to teach them all the manly things. All the things that I know how to do, as a male, in the male way.  There is a lot of talk about letting, or pushing, boys to act in ways that make them easier to deal with, making them more docile and easy to control or at very least easier to get into thinking the "right" way. But I'm not one of the "right" way of thinking kind of guys myself. I'm a firm believer in the core of being male, being masculine. Not macho, but someone that believes that there is a way that men are supposed to act and that I expect myself to act that way.  the boys need to learn how to be men.

The first thing that  think that they need to know is to be themselves. and not in the stupid "be yourself the way everyone says is the okay way to be yourself" kinda way.  That's a path that causes naught but confusion and frustration. You know what I'm talking about. Be the kind, gentle , and passive fellow. Just to the point that you don't actually rock the boat so everyone knows you are stable and consistent. But not too stable... then you're a weirdo that doesn't think for himself... can't have that... but only think for yourself when it's okay to do it and won't upset those around you....

It's hardly surprising there is a mess of young men now days that are truly stunted mentally.

I need to teach them to be lovers of what it is to boys. They should love to get dirty, which should be hard since dirt seems to glue itself to my older boy when he is sitting still. They need to learn to be physical. They need to learn that they are creatures of action by their very nature. They need to do things they need to be active. Being quiet and thoughtful is a trait that develops, but for some reason people think it is a trait that boys need to learn early.  Or worse are deficient for not having it in them right away.

My daughter has this trait. She can sit, for a while, and be content observing. Of course, she being four, means that the amount of time is very short, but is getting longer week by week.

In my musings I came to the realization that there are three patently male activities that are at my core.

Protect, provide, and procreate.

Now, I'm a firm believer that these are my absolute basic drives. I have to protect what's mine, be it family, friends,  or property. Without doing this I cannot, in my view call myself a man. Any man that let's this principle attribute be delegated is fooling himself of being a man.  This also means that as a man I am, by nature, going to be more readily inclined to aggression and stubbornness. These are to personality traits that have been deemed as silly and they point to the fact that men never really outgrow their boyish tendencies.  But these are also traits that I think my boys should have, and are traits that I will, joyously, nurture in them.  For certain, their mother does not have the same mental architecture to do so.

The next in that line is provision.  I learned as a very young boy what want felt like.  I knew the pangs of hunger too well.  The worry of where I was going to be laying my head, while a far outside thought, was there, because there was no stable man in my life.

Now, full props to my mother, she raised my sister and I well enough.  But the leanness of my upbringing has left an indelible mark on my thinking.  I am shrewd and careful with food, very cautious with what I have so as not to replace it before required,  and incredibly miserly. Though I cannot ever get over the thought that had we had a stable present man in our lives that was dedicated to providing, life would have been easier.  I would not have had to learn life lessons the hard way.  I certainly would more likely than not, have worried about eating something that I was not supposed to eat.  So now, as a father, I am always thinking of how I am going to bring in more money in order for us to have the basics in abundance.  It's little things too, like making sure that there is always one extra gallon of milk in the fridge, because my two year old drinks it like water;  or that we always have a little more than enough of everything.  I am by no means of great financial standing, I do not make near as much as I want to be making at this point, but the simple fact that I worry about how much my kids have eaten as opposed to whether or not that they have eaten fills me with pride.

Now then... Procreation. Obviously I am not going to start walking the boys down that path for a loooong time, but it is a path I need to walk with them.  I don't think that anyone can argue that in the last twenty to thirty years there has been an overwhelming trend of opening up women's sexuality while at the very same time demonizing that of men.  Which is a real shame that something that is supposed to be so much fun has become so villainous and derided.  From the simple fact that as men, and by extension boys, have to worry at all times whether or not they are being "sexual predators".  Somehow I need to teach my boys, and my daughter (I'll leave the lion's share of that talk to the wife though) that sex is not a bad thing.  It is a good thing, hell a great thing.  They need to see that the end result of the act itself is all guided toward the idea of making a new person, and if they think that they are old enough or ready to lay the role of "mom" or "dad" then... well that's where it's gonna go.

But... and this is a huge BUT.  I refuse to let them see it as a weapon that can be wielded against the other sex. 

These are basic thoughts... the core principles that drive me as a man... as a father.

Being a father is hard.  It is terrifying.  It is one of the most enjoyable experiences I've ever had.

Tuesday, October 27, 2015


These happen. You don't do it on purpose but the at the end of the day; You Fucked It Up.

Screwed the pooch, took a walk down the peer and didn't turn around, completely blew it.

You know you have done it, we all have. The trick is, what did you do when it came out?  some of us try to cover it up, try to buy time. This is the absolute worst thing you can do. Sometimes you have to just man up and tell the truth that you totally got it wrong.

This happened to me recently. At work no less. Terrible moment.  I knew I was living on borrowed time and I got called on it what hard. Like... I should not have a job, but for the grace of the situation I still do.

I don't know how I got into the situation... no that's not true I know exactly how I got there... I procrastinated. And I really hurt my personal capital in the process. My reputation has been hurt by no other reason than I didn't handle what needed handling when it needed handling.

Sometimes this happens and you get pushed straight back against the wall and don't know what to do from there. Some people crumple and fall down begging not to get hit anymore. Hoping on the mercy of the situation not to keep hitting them.  Then some people get their backs against the wall and decidee they have had enough of it and come out swinging like a madman. I'd like to think I'm that madman, and the person that is kicking the crap outta me is myself.

 It's my failings that are causing this hurt to me. Not the actions of other people. My lesser nature has got me against the wall and now I need to come out and fight back against it the best I know how. Methodically and with a mean purpose.  I need to look that part of me square n the eye and fight it off like it needs to die. Because I cannot get by with it's existence anymore. It;s going to cause me more hurt over and over and over again.

So how do you do it. First; identify the problem. Honestly. See it for what it is. doesn't matter if it's something that you are ashamed to admit to, you have to do this. Put it right out there and say "This is the reason"

It may hurt, you may not like doing it, you may feel very very uncomfortable doing this; because really who like looking in the mirror knowing what is going to be staring back.

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

The Gunslinger

Jon dropped to the ground as energy blasts tore apart the ruined auto he was taking cover behind. The sound of the impacts sang in his ears like a legion of bells as he hastily slid another charge core into both his pistols. “Damn” he thought to himself, “these guys are not gonna let up ‘til I’m dead.” Then there was silence, the shooters were reloading their plasma cores, he had time to take a shot. He came up fast spinning on the balls of his feet and scanned the ruined mall with a practiced eye. Jon spotted two of the shooters, tall and lithe in their matte black power suits, Jackals. The Jackal to his left saw him come up first and threw its plasma gun while drawing its own pistol. “Too slow” he whispered as his left hand jerked with the recoil of his pistol. A deafening roar thundered through the ruins as a charge bolt sped towards its mark superheating the air in its wake. The second Jackal was quicker then his dead comrade though and was already sending short barking shots Jon’s way. Dropping back into his cover he cursed silently, charge bolts he could handle at least they cauterized a wound. Solid shot like what the Jackal was shooting was a whole different issue. It was a bloody and savage type of round that would leave a man in agony as his life leaked into the dirt. “Dirty Jackals” he thought out loud, as he came up again and froze, stunned to be looking down the barrel of the same gun he was cursing. Jon’s world went silent as he realized they had finally gotten him. He let out a sigh as the hand holding the pistol jerked and waited for his death.


Jon and the Jackal stared at each other, blue eye matched against mirrored visor for just a moment and then they moved. The Jackal brought its left gauntlet in a wide arc towards Jon’s head. He ducked under the clumsy blow bringing his charge pistol up to the suit’s helmet but the Jackal was already moving again and knocked Jon’s hand high as the gun went off harmlessly. He was faster than Jon had expected, this was bad. In the second that he was considering this fact a black reinforced boot landed squarely in his gut sending him flailing back on to the remnants of the car he had been hiding behind. The suit was on him in an instant and Jon cried out as his throat was seized by a cold armored hand. The Jackal began to slowly squeeze the life from Jon with steady pressure. Furiously clawing at the hand Jon realized he was not going to be able to pry the vice from his neck, he needed to reach one of his pistols that he had lost when he hit the car. Thrashing violently he laid his eyes on one of his guns where it had fallen in the front seat of the ruined car, it was close. Jon forced his leg in between himself and the Jackal and began to push back trying to lift the suit off of him enough to make a reach for the grip of the pistol. As he laid his hand on the weapon the Jackal recognized the threat and began to force more pressure into the servos of his gauntlet. Jon could hear the tendons in his neck grinding against each other and his vision exploded in pain. As stars played through his eyes his hand wrapped around the smooth handle of his pistol and his thumb keyed the activation nub. A high whine sang out over the fight as Jon hauled the heavy hand cannon to underneath the Jackals helm and pulled the trigger. Again thunder roared through the ruins and the suit went slack on top of Jon. Coughing, he pushed the dead Jackal off of him and wheezed through his bruised throat. Looking down at the now headless body he hacked a bit of blood on to the armor, “Too fast” he whispered and holstered his pistol.