Part Deux

Heads up – Part II of the Journey has started here.

To Infinity, And Beyond

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”

A Lifetime of Solitary Delusion and Whatnot

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.

finishhim
“At least it was nice to get out of the house.”

Ah well.

Continue reading “A Lifetime of Solitary Delusion and Whatnot”

On Being the Family Hero

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!”
“YAY, DADDY!”
“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!

Continue reading “On Being the Family Hero”

The Reckoning

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.

Continue reading “The Reckoning”

(DNP – Sad Bastard Syndrome)

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.

Continue reading “(DNP – Sad Bastard Syndrome)”

The Scars to Prove It

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.

Continue reading “The Scars to Prove It”

They Beat Him Up Until the Teardrops Start

The alarm goes off and I don’t bother with the snooze; I just set a timer for 30 minutes later and give in. I curl back over to my son, a hand on his skinny little five year old legs. I’m in the same state I’ve been since the night before – not really asleep, but not moving, so it counts for something.

Forty minutes later, after another two rounds of alarms, my son asks if it’s time to get up and I tell him he’s welcome to if he wants, but I’m staying here. “Daddy. You didn’t do your yoga for the last three days.” I’m surprised he noticed. Of course he did.

He says, “I’ll do your yoga!” And he starts breathing on an fffffff while stretching in bed.

“You’re not going to do your yoga with me?”
“No, Jhonen. I haven’t been doing anything. I’m too sad.”
“About your friend?”
“Yes.”

Continue reading “They Beat Him Up Until the Teardrops Start”

Maintaining Fitness When the World Stops Turning

I am prone to exaggeration. It’s a curse, all this hyperbole, all this good clean fun. It renders language almost worthless. It robs superlatives of their power. So it goes.

Really, superlatives aren’t any good at moments like this anyway. The simplest language is what really fits.

My friend Nicole is dead and I’m sad about it. There.

OK.

Maybe a few superlatives.

Continue reading “Maintaining Fitness When the World Stops Turning”