Heads up – Part II of the Journey has started here.
Two months ago, the day after we closed the last show I directed, I was bored and sad and decided to do something weird to entertain myself. Sixty-ish days later this silly thing has amassed around 5,300 views from 2,300 visitors in 19 countries. That’s fucking bananas.
Anyway, you guys are the greatest, and this has been super fun, and we must do this again sometime.
So let’s get down to it. Continue reading “To Infinity, And Beyond”
We are couch-cuddling, watching Mr. Bean cartoons and eating tacos (lean turkey, no greasy beef – big chunks of avocado, no sour cream.) No time for the gym: I need to take publicity pictures for a show at the community theatre. I bring my son with me to get him out of the house, let his mother sleep a little before her shift. He loves the city’s arts center, and demands that we bring our basketballs to play on the adjacent courts this weekend. “Yeah! Let’s do that,” I chirp as I scruff his hair. He races me to the front door and giggles wildly as he leaves me in his dust.
Went ahead and busted out my best move last night: The First Date That Will Not Lead to a Second Date. I’m a fucking master at this move. I’m motherfucking Scorpion in Mortal Kombat at this move, except instead of shooting a retracting claw from my hand I just babble incoherently until their eyes glaze over and they’re like, “WELL, I’ve got to get to work early.” FINISH HIM.
I dance into the living room and I’m greeted the way a father ought to be greeted with armloads of groceries.
“Look, Daddy’s home!”
“Hello, Little Family! I have food! It’s so good to see your wonderful faces!”
Baby Mama has her music going and she’s cleaned the living room and kitchen and I’m excited over it and we make plans for all three of us to tackle the kid’s room together as a team. “Hooray, plan!” “HOORAY!” Tiny high fives. Yeah, man!
I’m excited about making our healthy little meal, using our new veggie pasta maker to keep us in the Super Healthy Living Zone. Yeah, man! We’re going for it!
It is Sunday Funday and I have snuck away from the house for an hour to lift weights and it feels incredible, naughty even. I love getting in a weight-lifting session at this point, hard to come by as they are, and it helps my mischievous soul that Baby Mama acted annoyed about it. I was leaving her alone with The Boy for an hour right before she had to go to work. Whatever. I have no guilt: she can go to the gym at her leisure in the mornings, but I can only sneak in here and there. Still, I get it: today she’s going in early to her second job before hitting the overnight shift at the factory. She works hard for us while we try to get caught up and scrape by. I respect it, I appreciate it. But I’ve got a He-Man ‘Sup Ladies tank top I need to fit into in just over a week and I’ve got work to do.
It’s on the long drive home from work that I feel it. I say “long”, but my 45 minutes drive from Columbus to home would’ve been considered a gift when I lived in Atlanta. But it’s 45 minutes of no traffic, an actual drive, a slog at the end of a long day, just piling miles on my poor little car. I usually get home feeling exhausted, like the day is over, even though I still have to pick up my son from day care, go to the grocery store, cook dinner, set the table, and then initiate the full bedtime ritual. And then I turn around and it’s 9:00 PM and the day is gone.
I HAVE INJURED MYSELF WHILE LIFTING WEIGHTS AT THE GYMNASIUM.
OK, a little meta-narrative, which I told myself I would avoid, but I think it’s necessary at this point for my own sanity. I over-think things. It’s my deal. Bear with me.
I sit up from my first set on bench press and it’s good, it feels good, better than I’d anticipated after over a week away. No expectations, I said, if you just walk in and walk out no big deal, no pressure, Big Guy. But it is fine, it is better than fine, it feels good. Blood moving. Haven’t increased the weight on it like I wanted but haven’t gone backwards either. Feels good.
No pressure, Big Guy.