The End of the Beast

'The Beast' 1989 Subaru GL

I’ve known this day was coming for awhile now.

The car served me well, often with its frame shaking around me and threatening to turn both of us into a heaping pile of scrap and organic matter spread thin across the highway. Thankfully the old monster liked me and fought harder and longer than it probably should have before finally giving up the ghost.

Farewell, I will miss you dearly…

Until I find something new to drive.

Until then, I’m marching around on foot.

Not complaining though, I could really use the exercise.

Single Parenting

Photo By Becky Green Photography

Wow…

I’ve always respected single parents. After all, they do some pretty heavy lifting, playing the part of both mom and dad. I didn’t ever really think I could do it and I guess in some ways I’m still not sure. I’ve had more than my fair share of help with my son over the last few weeks from my family, who adore the little guy almost as much as I do.

And while I’m sure they’ll always be willing to help out, eventually I’m not going to see them everyday. Soon (I hope) I’ll be out on my own again. That means when my son goes to stay with his mom it’ll just be me and when he comes to visit it’ll just be the two of us. That’s a pretty scary thought.

Don’t get me wrong, I feel confident about my capabilities. I spent a lot of my time as a stay at home dad before his mother and I separated and there was even a time during which his mother was in the hospital where it was just him and I for days on end. I know I can handle him, but it’s still scary.

He’s a lot more mobile now than he was then and is fast approaching toddlerdom (if he isn’t there already, not super certain of that whole transition). Chuck Wendig, an excellent author and creator of the hilariously stupendous blog Terribleminds once wrote a post about his own son where he draws a pretty accurate comparison. He says (of having a toddler), “...every day is like that moment in Jurassic Park where the dinosaurs learn to open doors,” and I think that’s a pretty accurate assessment.

It’s scary to think about, trying to make sure he doesn’t eat any of the children hiding in the kitchen... er, sorry, he’s not actually a velociraptor. He doesn’t eat people…

I don’t think…

I also don't keep children hidden in my kitchen... O_o

Don't look at me like that...

*awkward shuffle*

*coff*

*ahem*

Anywho, I guess what I’m getting down to is this is another aspect of fear, stemming from self doubt and I’m sure what amounts to a fairly normal feeling amongst all parents.

It’s the: I have no idea what I’m doing feeling.

That’s a common feeling, right?

Right?

Only it's doubled, or more, because it's just me while Bootstrap comes to stay. So..

For you single parents out there, single mothers and single fathers, what do you do? How do you do it? I know some struggle more than others. I know that all of you sacrifice and know that some sacrifice more than others. I realize that you do whatever you have to for your children and I know that’s what I’ll do as well. Are there any tips you can offer? Things to avoid? Things to focus on? Not just to help me out as a single father but things I can do for my son to help him with having two single parents and two different homes.

A dash of Fear: Success & Failure

As fair warning this is a bit of a rant. Just a raw flow of thoughts, nothing really concrete. It might not even make a lot of sense; I guess we’ll find out.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately.

I’m very quiet and overly thoughtful. Not thoughtful in the sense of “I think of others and put them first” because to be honest, I’m kind of selfish. There are very few people who I think of first, whose needs come before mine. I don’t mean to be this kind of person, but I am. I’m working on changing that and being a better person. But to get back on track what I mean is I think all the time. I ponder on everything and often lose myself to my thoughts. If I let myself I could be lost in my own head for hours and there are times I’ve done this exact thing, more often than I would like to admit actually. It isn’t very conducive to social settings and it is part of why I’m so antisocial, shy and quiet.

My brain is always going and sucks me in. I space out several times through out the day.

I’m the type of person that wants all the details, all the why’s, when’s, where’s, how’s and who’s. I want to weigh all the options before coming to a decision. I want to know everything and anything I can about something no matter how trivial because for me, I won’t know if it’s trivial or not until I’ve heard it. I want to make sure I know all what all the options are.

I drive some people nuts this way and piss off most of the rest.

But that’s part of who I am.

I evaluate everything.

I analyze all the information I take in.

I think way too much.

I’m working on making my dreams come true, working on trying to make money by doing the things I love to do and the things I want to do. I’m trying to get to the point where I can earn enough to take care of my little boy and do things and go places.

I want to leave my fingerprint on the world. Make a difference.

And when you get right down to it, it’s pretty scary.

Real life is scary.

It’s filled with uncertainties and for someone like me that’s terrifying. Life doesn’t open up and give away all the details and all the possibilities. There are countless outcomes to any given situation and decision. Statistically speaking I’m more likely to fail in my quest to make my dreams come true than succeed.

Life offers no guarantees. It doesn’t promise anything and if it does it doesn’t mean it’ll honor those promises.

It’s funny how fear works. How it can stop us from doing what we otherwise want to do. It often gets in the way. It follows us throughout our lives in many ways. Fear is a constant.

We fear the unknown.

In life, there’s an awful lot of that.

I admire people who can shake that fear away. Some do it easier than others through faith in something greater than themselves or through self confidence, ignorance or just sheer stubbornness. I’m trying my best to overcome fear in all aspects of life, because I hate being afraid. I’m not really talking about the fear you get when lying in bed in the dark after a scary movie or when you think someone is following you on a dark street in an unfamiliar area. It isn’t a fear for your life or anything along those lines.

It’s more a fear of failure. A fear of success. A fear of whether or not I’m capable of achieving what I want and if I do, if I have what it takes to continue doing it.

But I guess I’ll never know unless I do it. So that’s what I’m trying to do. Just go in and do it. I’m trying. A lot of this stuff is new; it’s well outside my comfort zone. Which is hard to step out of, but I’m trying and hoping to see some positive results.

I’m curious about what others do to overcome their fears. Feel free to comment on any type of fear you may have or have had and what you do/did to overcome it. I’m most interested in those fears that involve leaving your comfort zone. Stepping out of your little box of relative safety. Fears of failure. Fears of success. What did you do? How did it go? Did it work?

New found love.. (of poetry)

I’ve very recently discovered that I actually enjoy writing poetry a lot.

This is funny because I used to hate writing poetry.

Literally.

I hated writing poetry. It was okay to read, if it was good, but I didn’t have an appreciation for it.

For as long as I can remember I’ve always loved stories. I loved making up stories, even when I was really little. I didn’t realize it at the time, but all the adventures my G.I. Joe’s and Star Wars action figures went on, all the deaths and heartaches and fighting and betrayals I made them suffer. Those were all stories. Granted, terrible stories filled with plot holes and any other number of problems, but still, they were stories.

And I still love making up stories.

But I had a problem with poetry. I wasn’t interested and more than that I just didn’t get it. I took writing classes throughout school because I wanted to write and get better at writing, but I knew that I’d have to write poetry as well and I groaned every time those assignments came around.

Often I did the very least amount of work possible to earn an acceptable grade, writing complete trash about whatever popped into my mind. I still have quite a few of those papers and poems and frankly, they’re embarrassing.

My teachers would often tell me how much they liked my poems (when I actually tried) and they’d always try to convince me to try harder. My creative writing teacher stopped giving me full points on the garbage poetry I wrote (bless her soul) in an attempt to motivate me a bit more. It didn’t really help.

I remember one of my English teachers tried to get me to enter into a poetry slam the English department had. I had absolutely no interest but agreed anyway. At just about the last minute I back out because I knew my poetry wasn’t really that good and I have a thing about being in front and around people. I spent most of my school life trying to be invisible and I did a pretty damn good job of it.

I was and still am shy, awkward and antisocial. A total wallflower, if you will.

I remember she called me a coward.

It hurt more than I was willing to admit.

Not because it was rude (it was, especially coming from a teacher) but because it was true and I knew it was true.

But I also knew I wasn’t interested. There were some poems I liked. A couple I wrote that I enjoyed writing, but writing poetry felt more like a cheese grater being dragged across my brain.

Until recently.

I heard a spoken word poem by Shane Koyczan.

If you haven’t heard of him you need to YouTube him. Like right now. Because holy amazeballs he is beyond talented. You'll find others have uploaded a lot more videos of his performances than he has, explore a little. I did. I started looking for more of his stuff and then more stuff by other people. I’m still pretty picky about the poetry I like and what I don’t. I guess it has to speak to me. I feel like that’s what poetry should do. Speak to you. That’s what any type of art should do really.

I’m not saying that poems should be one size fits all. Art doesn’t work that way. Not everything is going to touch me, move me or make me feel. But the things that do are pretty amazing and I feel poetry is one of those mediums that, when done well, can reach out wipe away your tears or make you cry them.

When any type of art can do that it’s beautiful.

My eyes were opened to the potential poetry has. I realized that poetry can be another medium for storytelling and as stupid as it may sound that thought just never clicked. I wanted to try my hand it and I did.

I’ve written two poems, both longer than any other poem I’ve ever written. Both pretty personal, filled with thoughts and memories.

I like them.

I don’t know that I’ll ever share them.

Maybe.

I’m very interested in finding and immersing myself a bit in the poetry community. Things like poetry slams or places where people just share their poetry because that’s what they do. I’d like to explore a bit. Listen to local talent.

If you know of anything in Utah, specifically the Salt Lake area, feel free to comment or email me.

Also, what are your thoughts on poetry? Do you have a favorite type of poetry? A favorite poet? Comment and share. I’d love to expand my poetry base by reading and listening to things I haven’t.