911

My family should really stay away from the month of January. If we could just skip it and start the new year in February, that would be great. I don't know what it is about this month but sometimes it tends to be awful for our clan. This January is no exception. First, my brother's seizures landed him in the hospital and then in an OR to have a brain rumor removed. He's been out of the hospital for a couple of days and we'd all been thinking how great it was to no longer have to see the inside of those walls. But those walls weren't done with us yet.
As I begin this post, it is 4:15 in the morning and I've been up almost a full 24 hours. I woke up early, went about my day and had a late dinner with my mom. After dinner I went to another room and mom stayed in the family room watching TV. She fell asleep for a couple of hours and I didn't bother her. Then I heard her starting to get up and assumed she was going to bed so I went in to say goodnight. But as soon I walked into the room I could tell something was wrong. She was pale and kind of half lying down and said she thought she was getting the flu because her stomach hurt and she was nauseous. She asked for a cold cloth and some water and I brought her both, then brought in the trash can in case she got sick. I asked if she was okay, she was sweating and not able to get out of the awkward position she was in, and age didn't answer. And inside I began to panic. My mother is NEVER not okay, if she's not worried, then neither am I but she was clearly worried. She seemed disoriented so I kept an eye on her for a second and suddenly she passed out. Her eyes closed, she wasn't moving and she didn't respond when I shook her so I immediately called 911. I had to leave the room to get to the phone and in the 10 seconds I was gone, she'd come to. She asked who I was on the phone with but still seemed a bit out of it for a second. She responded to the questions the 911 operator told me to ask her and within minutes two ambulances and five paramedics showed up (we would later joke that the only thing missing was a helicopter landing on the front lawn). It was literally 10 minutes from the time I came in to say goodnight til the time paramedics were on site, that's how quickly this all unfolded. And I felt like my 7-year-old self putting all that 'call 911 in case of energency' training to use. It was scary as hell. After assessing her condition and taking an EKG, the paramedics opted to take her to the hospital. I rode along and shot off texts and calls about what was going on, but since it was ready 9-ish at night, responses were slow. The medics didn't seem super concerned and that calmed me a bit, but it still seemed like the ride to the hospital took ages.
Once we got to the hospital, she was wheeled into a room and greeted by five nurses and a doctor. Everyone started poking and prodding away; starting IV's, getting an ultrasound and x-rays, asking me what had happened. About 30 minutes after that, we were alone in her room and she said she felt like she was going to be sick so I stepped out to find a nurse to get her a bucket. All I could find was some administrative looking woman and age came in and got a basin, but mom had already gotten sick. I didn't even notice that she had because I was looking at her and what I saw terrified me. She had her hands on the railing of the bed, her face over her hands and her eyes were wide open, almost bulging and staring up at the ceiling. She was out cold. I didn't notice if her vitals changed at that moment but I yelled at the woman in the room to go get someone. She looked at me annoyed but did go get the nurse. Mom was only out for a few seconds at most but it was still fucking scary. Not knowing what's going on with the health of someone you love is the worst feeling. At that point the doctor came in and said he wanted a CT scan, which requires the scanee to drink down this awful liquid that takes about an hour and a half to kick in. Because she was nauseous and generally not feeling well, it took about a half hour for her to drink it all. She finally went to CT and I sat on the room by myself and waited. My brother is obviously unable to leave the house right now so he couldn't come over and my sister was chaperoning a sleepover for her daughter so I was flying solo on this one. While she was in CT, the doctor and I had a bit of a talk and he said her blood work was normal and her vitals were looking good. That was both conforming and unsettling because I wanted her to get better but I also wanted to know what had caused her to pass out and it didn't seem like I was going to get an answer. She had slept for about an hour prior to CT and said she felt a little better but still had stomach pain. After looking over the CT scan the doctor said most everything looked normal, except for a tiny bit of fluid in her intestines. He said it would likely work itself out and told her what to take to keep hydrated, and prescribed some meds for nausea. After an hour long wait to be discharged, we finally left via a cab at 3:45 in the morning.
Mom was very understandably exhausted and went right to bed once we got home. Before that, she hugged me and thanked me for taking care of her but I told her no thank you was ever necessary. I did however tell her not to scare me like that again. I told her I loved her about a million times over the course of the night and repeated it yet again and she said she loves me more than I know. She went to bed but I haven't. I can't sleep. For one thing, I'm afraid the whole thing is going to happen again. For another, every time I shut my eyes the whole thing replays on a loop. So for now I write. I'm exhausted but at the same time I'm not. I want to sleep but I'm worried about...ridiculous stuff I guess. I mean, it's serious stuff but I know she's much better now than she was eight hours ago. Still...it was scary. It reminded me of how I felt when she was hospitalized for anxiety when we were in high school. Just not knowing what is going on with your parent is unbearable. Anyone who knows me knows I'm close to my entire family but my mother is hands down the most amazing woman on the planet. I would take a bullet for that woman, I adore her. Words cannot express how thrilled I am that she's feeling better. Thank y'all for the prayers and good vibes and please keep them coming.

I Love You More Today Than Yesterday, But Not As Much As Tomorrow

We're going old school for this week's song. I first heard this as a kid in the car with my mother and siblings and it stuck in my mind for some reason. I first acquired my own version of it when I was in high school and bought a compilation CD that contained this track. It wasn't until a few years ago when I was going through iTunes to make sure all of my music had album covers that I realized it was sung by a man. Up until then, I thought it was sung by a black woman. (This happened several times during this iTunes update, me finding out that songs I loved and thought were sung by black people were actually sung by skinny white folk.) I had a similar issue with Elton John's "Don't Go Breaking My Heart". I always had this image in my head of the woman on that song, named Kiki Dee, being this fabulous black woman with a boa and very Tina Turner-esque. So imagine my shock when I catch the video for the first time and a young EJ is singing with a skinny white woman in pink overalls. I've never been able to see that song in the same light. Anyway, enjoy this one kids.

Dedicated to the birthday girl!

Must Be The Clouds In My Eyes

Tomorrow morning my brother will be having brain surgery. Now there's a sentence I hoped I'd never have to write. I've been pretty okay with this since we found out about it a few days ago but suddenly the nerves have begun to kick in. That's the rocky relationship my nerves and I have. I'll be cool as a cucumber until a few hours or even minutes before a big event and then the nerves make their appearance. But these are very different nerves. It's equal parts being nervous and terrified. I know he will likely be okay post-surgery and I'm worrying for nothing but there's always a chance something goes wrong. This is also a unique situation because, yet again, I've been where he is. And if he thought the coma was a bitch, he ain't seem nothing yet. Fortunately, the chances of memory loss or permanent effects like the ones I suffered are very minimal for him. If surgery goes well, and it's expected to, he should be released from the hospital a few days after. It could take months or up to a year for him to fully recover though. His main motivation for having the surgery now is to avoid more seizures and to hopefully be able to get back to work in a few months. I can't tell you how much I hope all of that is accomplished by this time tomorrow evening. Again, all good vibes are much appreciated. Fingers crossed everything goes without a hitch...

On a lighter note (cuz we gotta keep it light around here), Christmas decorations have finally come down at my mother's house. While putting the tree in a large, plastic storage bag my brother-in-law remarked that it was a pretty good sized bag and that you could fit a body, maybe even two bodies, in there. Crazy Aunt, god love her, responded by saying, "I know! It's a shame they only had one in stock," like age needs to have more on hand in case murder spontaneously happens. Then a friend chimes in and says they would think Crazy Aunt would be slicker than that in the event of a body dump, like she'd dissolve the person in a tub so that there's no evidence against her. Then my mom chimes in about how you'd have to buy the containers you were going to dissolve someone in years in advance so that they couldn't be connected to you as easily, if at all. Crazy Aunt completes the convo by saying you should use lye to dissolve bodies because it will get rid of ALL traces. Yes, these are the conversations we have during family time. These are the people I love.

Give Them A Sense Of Pride

Speaks for itself, doesn't it?

I Find It Kinda Funny, I Find It Kinda Sad, The Dreams In Which I'm Dying Are The Best I've Ever Had

This week's song is a little ditty that is fantastic for drinking away one's sorrows. But, since I don't drink anymore, I'll just have to settle for listening to it whilst sober. Either way, it's equal parts depressing, beautiful and haunting. I was a little late to the party in discovering it; I first heard it on a pivotal episode of "CSI" where it was perfectly used. I immediately downloaded it and listened to it A LOT and it's a song I continue to come back to when I'm in a chilled out mood or a sad one. For some reason, I like to listen to it really late at night.

Better Now

First, this happened after I told a friend about the conversation in my last post:


Me: We should totally make an infomercial for people without fat asses. Something in the vein of 'Save the Children'
Me: Instead of showing starving children, we'll show people with flat asses looking all dejected
Friend: LOL 'For just 40 dollars a day, you can help these poor bitches get a budonkadonk. It worked for me, it can work for them'
Me: Lol 'Comes in Black, Latino and Too-Ghetto-for-Any-Color'
Friend: LOL
Friend: We are ridiculous lol

THEN, this pretty much sums up how close to our version of normal things are getting back to now that my brother is awake. You know things are going to be okay when you're sitting around a hospital room drawing straws over who will tell your brother the Broncos are officially on summer vacation.


Me: My brother is being brought out of his slumber

Friend: WOOO!

Me: He's in and out of consciousness now
Me: My uncle wonders how we should break the news that the Broncos are out of the playoffs lol

Friend: Lol That's so typical of you guys

Me: Lol We're awful

Friend: It's comforting

------------

Friend: How's your brother?

Me: Awake, alert and pissed off that the Broncos were eliminated

Friend: LOL That's fantastic

I am incredibly relieved the little brother is awake and on the mend. Thank you for all the well wishes and good vibes, they are very much appreciated. As for you, Denver Broncos...I'll deal with you another day.

I Like Big Butts And I Cannot Lie

Overheard in the hallway of the hospital ICU:

Girl 1: "I wish I had a fat ass or was black or something."

(Turns to Girl 2)

Girl 1: "Like, you have a fat ass and big boobs. That balances out."

Girl 2: "Yeah but I'm not black though."

It should be noted that both women, skinny young white chicks, were in scrubs so I guess they work in the medical field. Which is scary. Fortunately, neither is involved with my (now alert and awake) brother's care. I guess I could've made it through med school after all...

Back To Life, Back To Reality

He's awake. But it's been a rollercoaster. My brother is currently being weaned out of his coma and we are all tremendously relieved. "Relieved" doesn't quite cover it actually. His doctors thought he would only be under for a day, maybe two at most, but he had two more seizures after they knocked him out so they chose to wait a little longer to wake him up. So far, he seems okay. He's still waking up and it'll be a few days before he's fully conscious and, we hope, lucid. Once that happens the doctors will run more tests and figure out what the next step is. In all likelihood, he will have to have the brain tumor removed soon. But that's a problem for another day. Right now we're just happy he's awake.

The Waiting Game

It's amazing the things that go through your head when you're unsure of what will happen next. I took the first flight home this morning in order to be with my family during this difficult time. There was some good news upon my arrival, the swelling in his brain has gone down a bit and he hasn't had anymore seizures (even in a comatose state, your brain can continue to seize but thankfully he hasn't). I don't like when the people I love are in any kind of pain do you can imagine what feelings have been conjured up by seeing my little brother lying unconscious in a hospital bed. It feels oddly familiar, yet completely foreign to me. I know what it's like to be the one in the bed, the one being poked and prodded and scanned and told that there is some damage to the brain that cannot be undone. But I had no idea what it was like to be on the other side of it. My mother and sister and everyone else know the drill because, unfortunately, they've played this game before. They know the benefits and risks of an induced coma. They know there could be significant damage when he is brought out of the coma. They are aware that it could be two hours or two months before he is awakened (although it seems like it will be closer to the former since the swelling is subsiding). I know all of this too, but this time I play a different part than I did before. I realize now that I had the easiest role last time, all I had to do was lay there and fight for my life ("easy" being relative, of course). Family and friends had to get up every morning and try to function normally and fight all of the "what ifs" that invaded their thoughts every minute of everyday. And that's what I'm doing for the first time. Having been on both sides, my mind is running a mile a minute thinking about the situation from every angle.
I was in an induced coma for two weeks after the accident. I has a traumatic brain injury (or TBI) that required surgery before they made me take an indefinite nap. The next four days were very touch and go; the swelling in my brain was not going down and I was barely responsive during the tests they ran. Still, my family refused to believe that was going to be the end of me. My mom worried about mundane things she'd forgotten to tell me. My sister wondered if I'd remembered that my girlfriend was gone and if that would affect my own outcome. She felt I could get through the TBI but that the broken heart was what might actually kill me. (Fortunately, I didn't remember that while I was out but she was right, that did nearly kill me in the months and years that followed.) There's always the question of whether or not you can hear anything while you're in a coma. And I'm honestly not sure. I remember bits and pieces of things that may have been said but those also could've just been vivid dreams. What I do remember is waking up after the two-week break from walking amongst the living. It was such a bizarre feeling and one I don't think I can accurately explain. Even though the people I loved were right there when I woke up, the overwhelming feeling I had was fear. I didn't know where I was or what had happened, but I knew I couldn't speak and I didn't recognize the man in scrubs who was trying to talk to me. Every sound was distorted and unfamiliar. The room itself was incredibly bright. I knew who every family member was but had no recollection of how any of them came to be in my life. In the days ahead we all began to discover that most of my childhood memories were wiped out. I didn't remember the death of my grandmother or having been sick as a child. I had trouble with words, something that still surfaces on occasion today. And none of that was even the worst part. I had nightmares for months after I was released. I didn't want to go to sleep because I was convinced whatever they'd used to put me into the coma was still in my system and would kill me if I closed my eyes. I had nightmares about being paralyzed and unable to move while something bad was happening to someone I loved. Then, once I eventually did start actually closing my eyes, the PTSD kicked in with a new batch of nightmares. The whole experience was awful and I wouldn't wish it on anybody. But now, my brother may deal with a similar situation once he wakes up. And that kills.
Part of being in a coma is that someone is always at your bedside to monitor what's going on, and I took my shift with my brother about an hour ago. I can barely stand being in there, seeing him not move or open his eyes or speak. And I feel bad about not being able to stay in there very long. A bunch of stupid stuff runs through my head about things I forgot to tell him and needed to tell him. I know he's going to be fine and wake up and I can say all of those things, but it doesn't change the guilt I have now. Part of me wishes I'd been a better brother, but the other part knows that I did all I could for him when he was going through his rough patch. I would have severed ties completely if that were the last resort and the only way to get him back to who he is. I'm thankful it didn't come to that but he and I still had some very tough times. We've also had amazing times though, with more to come I'm sure. Our relationship has ranged from best friends to bordering on worst enemies, but we always come back from the brink. I love him very much. And I hope he wakes up soon.

Put Me In Coach

So the NHL lockout ended last Saturday when a tentative deal on a new collective bargaining agreement was reached in the wee hours of the morning. Once the deal is officially in place, training camps will open across the league and hockey will start it's season next week. I read the news Sunday morning and have had mixed feelings about it ever since. I've always loved hockey more than other sports, but I've discovered my interest waning significantly during this lockout (the second lockout in eight years, btw). I've watched some college hockey games and watched my niece and nephews play pee wee hockey, and I do still enjoy the sport in general. But I'm just so sick of the greed that's infiltrating professional hockey. The last lockout was primarily the fault of the owners and the idiot commissioner who refused to compromise when it came to money and, in the end, got what they wanted. The players union decided to be the ones to compromise because they wanted to play hockey. This time around, greed infected everybody. The owners were the ones who were making concessions and trying to find middle ground, but the players union (led by a guy who is possibly a much bigger moron than the commissioner, which is saying something) refused to compromise. There were a handful of really good deals on the table that they could have agreed to and they would have made, maybe, $100,000 less a year, not a big amount when you make a million dollars or much more in a season. But that was too much apparently. They often rejected the offers without even going over all of the details. It was about standing their ground because they felt they got screwed the last time bargaining was taking place. They said they wouldn't agree to a deal until unless in included the commissioner being replaced. But he's still the commissioner and a deal has indeed been struck. Ooops. Guess they shouldn't have said that one out loud. I highly, highly doubt the players union was indeed speaking on behalf of ALL it's players. The waiting game was no big deal for the star players because they found work elsewhere and had enough cash coming in to be able to afford not working for months. But the majority of NHL players are scrappers, guys who make less than millions of dollars and may not even have very long careers because of the type of hockey they play. I don't believe for a second that the union was thinking of the best interests of all these players, it was all about greed and money and thinking they would stick it to the owners. And that's why I'm torn about returning to the NHL as a fan. One of the things that was so great about it was that these guys played because they loved the game and they were all very humble and fan focused. But now they seem to be going the way of every other major sport, where money rules over everything else. Every new CBA is just the beginning of a countdown til the next lockout. This CBA supposedly is in effect for the next ten years, but either side can opt out of it after eight, and you know one side or the other will. I'm not even really that excited that hockey is back, just...meh. We'll see how much of it I watch when the season finally begins.
Yesterday, the results of voting for the Major League Baseball Hall of Fame were released and not a single soul was elected for enshrinement. The New York Times summed this up best by printing a blank sports page with the headline, "Welcome to Cooperstown". I'm glad nobody got in, no one deserved to. The players who are becoming eligible now are from the era of performance enhancing drugs and we will never be sure of exactly who used and who didn't. We can assume that some did (Barry Bonds, for example) because of the sudden muscle on their frame and spike in their stats. Others have gone out of their way to prove their innocence but all evidence that comes out points to their guilt (here's looking at you Roger Clemens). Some have been caught red-handed; Rafael Palmeiro swore before congress that he never used anything and never would and many people (including yours truly) believed him. He was incredibly convincing. Months after his testimony, he tested positive for steroids and retired shortly thereafter, his reputation completely ruined. Two of the three were eligible for enshrinement and neither came anywhere close to making it in. The writers, who are essentially the gatekeepers of the Hall of Fame, said that they would elect no one this year in order to make a statement that cheaters will not be tolerated and should not be allowed into such a prestigious club. I wasn't sure they'd have the balls to actually do it but they did, and props to them for it. In my opinion, no one who is even suspected of steroid use should be elected to the MLB Hall of Fame. It is highly unlikely that so many players can be "victims" of mischievous trainers or improper testing techniques. If you are a professional athlete, you know (and should know) EVERYTHING that goes into your body and you definitely shouldn't be able to claim ignorance as a defense. This was a good statement to make now but it's only going to get tougher from here as more steroid-era players become eligible. Andy Pettitte admitted his steroid use as soon as the question was brought up and even testified against Clemens, his one-time best friend, in front of a jury about the drugs they used together. Do we allow a cheater in because he was up front about having cheated? We shouldn't, but you never know how attitudes will change in a few years time. Even now, some people don't think steroids are a big deal in any sport and that they simply add to the athlete's talent and provide better entertainment. What they actually do is take away from the credibility and integrity of the sport and a no tolerance policy should be standard across the board.
And there's one more sports-themed story that caught my attention this week. It goes a little something like this; college quarterback dates hot model. College QB makes it to a championship game with his team and his hot model girlfriend, of course, is in the stands to cheer him on. ESPN cameraman spots hot model girlfriend in the stands and puts her on national television. ESPN commentators make comments about how "gorgeous" and "stunning" hot model girlfriend is. Hot model girlfriend becomes media sensation for...no reason other than her hotness, I guess, and makes the rounds on the morning news shows about...I don't know, something. College QB becomes jealous of the attention his hot model girlfriend is getting and asks that she refrain from anymore media interaction. Hot model girlfriend complies. Seriously? I am a heterosexual man and even I have to say, "Girl, don't let him run your life like that!". I guess this chick competed in the Miss Universe pageant and, being that she's a model, she clearly wants to be or has been in the spotlight at some point. I'm not sure if he thought she was done with that modeling silliness when they got together or what but no one should dictate what their significant other can and cannot do. It's one thing if he asks her to not do interviews for a legitimate reason (say, he wants to keep their relationship private), that's one thing but to say he doesn't want her to talk to anyone because she's overshadowing HIS achievements? Lame. But she seems to have complied almost immediately so maybe that's just how that relationship rolls. Either way, I find the whole thing to be ridiculous. There's no reason for ESPN to single her out, especially when it's creepy old man commentators who are calling her hot. There's no reason for it to become a big deal in the media, but it's not really surprising that they took to it the way they did since attractiveness will get you everywhere these days. The whole thing is comical. But I guess that's all it takes anymore to be "famous". We're all just one national TV appearance away from our own reality show. Who needs talent?

Preparing To Do ALL Of Dallas

Me: What are you doing in Dallas?
Friend: My ex-boyfriends
Me: LOL. And so up front about it
Friend: LOL NOOOOOOO!!!
Friend: That was a text to someone else about you lol
Me: Lol Because you dated all of the mes
Friend: lol Yeah no idea where the 'S' came from 
Me: So which one you gonna do first?
Friend: lol Stop. It. I am NOT doing ANY of my ex-boyfriends
Me: What if one was the last man on earth?
Friend: I'd do Cher instead.
Me: ...I'm intrigued...
Friend: LOL NO, my dear. Just no
Me: lol Fine. Prude.
Me: Well say hi to the folks for me...you know, in between doing ALL those mensz
Friend: lol And now you make me sound like a white by using by using my word against me. So well played
Me: LOL How dare I make you sound like a white!
Friend: LOL I didn't even notice. Like a white
Friend: White! Whore!
Me: I'm confused. Are you more offended I called you white or that I didn't call you a white white?
Me: Dammit!
Friend: LOL
Friend: The iPhone makes fools of us all in the end

So Show Me Family, All The Blood That I Will Bleed

Most (if not all) of the titles of my posts come from song lyrics. I think there is a song for every emotion on the planet and some line or another usually comes to mind when I'm drafting a post (obsessive about music? Yes I am. And I have no shame). However, this post is actually just about a song. It's one that was sent to me months ago by a friend and I liked it immediately and sought out the rest of the album it appears on. It turns out the band is based in my hometown, so that gave me extra incentive to like them. It's a very simple song but the lyrics are great. Unfortunately, it got lost in the shuffle (literally) on my iPod after I downloaded it. But thanks to being up way late the other night, I saw the video and rediscovered the song and it's been on repeat ever since. (This could be the first of a weekly music post. I haven't decided if I'll do that yet but it's an idea.)

If You Got Troubles, I Got 'Em Too

You know how you start to have one conversation and it veers off into a whole other, completely unexpected direction? That happened to me twice today. And it was awesome (and all kindsa 80's/90's filled).

Me: Hey can you talk like now? I have a problem and I don't know what to do about it.
Friend: Yeah just a sec. How major? Did you finally commit a crime? Do we need to go on the lam?
Me: lol No. If that were the case it would only be me who'd have to go on the lam.
Friend: Do you remember that time we watched Toy Story and we heard Randy Newman sing that song and we said that if one of us has problems, we all got problems?
Me: Vaguely
Friend: Well then there you go. We'd all have to go on the lam.
Me: ...Because I'm sure that's what Randy Newman had in mind when he wrote that song
Friend: You don't know. He coulda.
Friend: So what's THE problem?
Me: I broke the glass trying to get this picture in the frame
Friend: Omg please tell me you're joking...
Me: I wish
Friend: [My full name] That was a brand new frame with brand new glass!! Are the picture and frame okay at least?
Me: I broke off a tiny piece of the back of the frame but you can't see it. Picture is perfect.
Friend: Well that's not so bad. We can replace the glass I think
Friend: I'm relieved that's all it was. I thought you were gonna tell me something else, like really bad.
Me: I also ate the last piece of pizza just now
Friend: I hate you.
Friend: lol In the half hour since I left you have managed to destroy the house AND eat all the food in it. Well done sir.
Me: LOL There's a plague in this house!
Friend: LOL Yeah well I always knew you were carrying something manwhore
Friend: Don't think I don't know about the burning sensation...
Me: The only burning sensation I have is the eternal flame of my love for you.
Friend: Oooooh...that was smooth. Especially considering the topic lol
Friend: Are you sure that's all it is?
Me: I wasn't at first. Then I says to myself, I says, "Is this burning an eternal flame?" and that confirmed it
Friend: LMAO! That. Was. Fantastic. 
=========================
Friend: Do you miss me?
Me: Like the deserts miss the rain
Friend: Well that would explain why I rode past your door and realized you don't live there anymore
Me: It's years since I've been there...
Friend: Now you've disappeared somewhere
Me: Like outer space?
Friend: You found some better place. 
Me: And I miss you
Friend: Yeah
Me: LOL Because that is a crucial part of the song
Friend: lol Yes it is! Now tell me you miss me like the deserts miss the rain again!
Me: TELL ME YOU LIKE IT WHORE!
Friend: LOL Pretty much
Friend: What were we talking about again?
Me: I don't even remember. But this conversation took a fantastic turn just now.
Friend: lol It did. It really, really did.

It's A New Dawn, It's A New Day, It's A New Life...

HAPPY NEW YEAR!! Okay, so I'm a little late with the New Year wishes but they say it is the thought that counts. Speaking of thoughts, 2013 marks my SEVENTH year in the blogosphere. (Sadly, this blog is one of the longest relationships I've ever had. But hey, we all gotta start somewhere, right?) As you know, I'm not one to make resolutions whenever the latest model of Baby New Year comes rolling down the block. I feel as though resolutions are too easy to break because all it takes is one person you know slacking off on theirs for you to suddenly feel like it's no big deal to ditch your own. But this year I've decided to renew a previous resolution regarding this here blog. I said a year ago that I wanted to try and write everyday and see what came out. I did end up writing everyday...but not all of it made it to the blog. But it was still an improvement over years past. I began this blog in September of 2007 and a lot was different then. I wasn't a father and I was in a not-so-great phase of my life. The purpose of this blog was to try and exorcise the demons one post at a time. I wrote 26 posts that year and 59 the next. I dropped off some in 2009 and only wrote 15 posts but rebounded nicely in 2010 with 83. The past two years have been off the charts in terms of posting; 178 posts in 2011 and 188 in 2012. In total, I've written 601 posts and published 549. I never would have imagined that this blog would grow to that extent, or that it would become such a lifeline for me. It is a place to share my victories, assess the state of my life, keep a record of the hilariousness my friends and family produce, and my place to vent. I truly do not know what I would do without this space, my own little private corner of the interwebs. And it's amazing to think about how this blog may never have even happened if not for an assignment in third grade.
I have always loved to write and I've often wondered if I was an author in a previous life. I'd like to think I was. I've always loved words and the power and meaning behind them. I don't remember much about parts of my childhood but I do recall the moment I fell in love with writing very vividly. I was in third grade and we were assigned our first big paper to write. It involved research and re-writes and everyone in class grumbled about having to do it, but I thought it sounded like fun (yes I was, and still am, that big of a nerd). I aced the assignment and was thrilled when our teacher revealed that we'd be keeping journals the rest of the school year. It was up to us to keep track of our writing and put something down at least twice a week. Guess who filled up his journal in a week? Okay, it was me. I drew pictures, I practiced spelling, I wrote about my day, and my mom still has this journal on her bookcase at home. It's funny to look back at it now and see what things I found earth-shattering back then. My teacher, bless her heart, was overwhelmed by how often I wrote but was also very encouraging and suggested I keep some paper and a pencil handy so I could write whenever I thought of something. I took the advice (yes, I also used to actually take good advice, believe it or not) and have never looked back. It's funny how that little suggestion a teacher made is still very significant in my life twenty years later. Into adulthood I've continued to keep notebooks and pens everywhere. Back to school sales are my scene and I load up on notebooks every year. My daughter may have to fight me for a good notebook at future back to school sales. Of course, technology has grown at an amazingly fast rate since I was a third grader. There are new ways to write now, few people seem to use paper and pen anymore and that's a shame. But I'm one of those people now more often than not. I remember always trying to keep written journals as a kid but never really succeeding. I would beg my mom for some fancy looking hardcover journal, convinced that if it looked official enough I would actually take the time to sit down and write. That resolve would last about a week and then I'd cast it aside with all the other journals I never wrote in. Even my first attempt at a digital journal failed miserably. I typed it up in a Word-esque program on my first desktop computer (with a whopping TEN gigabyte hard drive!) then promptly forgot about it and deleted it months later (because a ten GB hard drive does not hold much and I needed the space). It wasn't until college that I gave it another go, finding a site called Xanga. For some reason I still don't fully understand, this site was wildly popular amongst my classmates. This was when MySpace was still relatively new and Facebook was just beginning to appear on college campuses. I was actually able to commit to writing everyday, although most of it was mundane stuff from my everyday life. It wasn't anything people I didn't know would want to read, but I guess the same is true for this blog. That first blog eventually led to this one, where I have found a home for all of the fun, funny and fearful thoughts that run through my brain, and I'm incredibly thankful for that.
Once I settled here, I began writing all of my posts in Blogger, despite the fact that glitches on the site have destroyed some of my best blogs before they could see the light of day (one in particular from a few years ago about the nightmare of having been bitten by a child was pure genius. GENIUS, I tell you!). A friend who also blogs suggested I draft my posts in Word first and then paste them into Blogger. That was a great idea but I never could remember to do it so I continued writing in Blogger and lost at least a couple more great posts. One of the reasons I was excited to get an iPhone was because I knew there were apps I could write in, so I would no longer need to grab paper and pen to write down an idea. Blogger has an app but it leaves something to be desired, plus it makes it a gigantic pain to switch between my blogs. I used it for a few weeks before a friend suggested an app called Evernote. And I love it. It not only allows me to write in a very Word-like format but it also syncs my notes between my phone and my computer, so I don't have to re-type anything. I can write an entire post on my phone, sync it over wifi to my computer and then just copy and paste it into Blogger and publish. It's so flippin' easy. So my goal for this year is to not lose any posts to Blogger glitches and make sure I take the time to sit down and write full posts about all the subjects I want to write about. It's not like I'm writing anything groundbreaking obviously but I still want to commit to writing as much as possible. Here's hoping 2013 is fantastic for all of us!