Tracy Chapman and 3rd Grade Fight Clubs...

Give me one reason by Tracy Chapman plays on the radio. It's one of my favorite songs actually. It's one of  those songs that sneaks up on ya, and in a minute somehow makes me want to dance.

For some reason, I imagine my dad dancing to this song. I picture him with his long six foot plus frame on a dance floor, his legs and feet stepping in time as Tracy belts out "baby I've got your number"

Don't ask me why I picture my dad dancing. Maybe it's because this song feels like a song dad's should dance to. Maybe it's because I've danced to this song in front of my kids before.

This morning I woke up with the memories of a third grade fight I was involved in many years ago.Standing in the center of a circle of onlookers. I don't remember why I was in the center, or what I was fighting about, but I remember as things got started the boy across from me began swinging his arms. Not in a, I'm gonna take out any mother fucker who messes with me kind of way, but rather in an eyes closed, standing swimming motion hoping he hits something.

Sometimes our minds make us feel like Ed Norton in fight club.

We close our eyes, swing our arms with all we've got, and hope we hit something.

That Was Fun...

Sometimes I watch my children and remember what it was like to be on that side of life. Each one of them at different ages it's as if I'm peaking through a window watching myself.

Today I'm reminded of a time and life that no longer exists. Of my first apartment. A rough neighborhood. A dog I wasn't supposed to have, and a young man.

Life was simple back then. No t.v. No Internet. Just me, working for the weekends. A six foot Led Zeppelin poster graced my living room with the words of Stairway to Heaven printed across it. Words we lived by back then. It wasn't classy, but it was my place. No roommates, no parents. Just me.

Somewhere in the memories, I can still hear the whistle of the train out back that would wake us up at 1 am. Twenty plus years later, I wonder how many young kids have heard that same whistle.

Groucho Marx once said, When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, Damn that was fun.

I don't miss that life. It no longer exists for a reason. But damn, that was fun...

Today's Depression

I don't pretend to know what serious depression is. I won't lie and say that I do. But that's not to say I don't fight my own demons. 

One of those days. 

Sometimes the darkness outweighs the sunshine; today is one of those days. It's a combination of things really that's caused it today. 

If I was talking to one of my kids about being depressed I might say something like life is what you make it, or something like, this too shall pass. But my psycho babble bullshit doesn't work on me, I know to much. Hell, it probably doesn't wok on them either truth be told. 

It's lunchtime and I shove a double cheeseburger and fries down my throat, I'll regret it later, but for now it helps. Today, my body aches and my mind is exhausted. The physical aches and pains remind me of just how far I've traveled in this lifetime. The exhaustion lets the depression in. 

I'm trying to not make this transition about me. Because it's not. But I'm selfish. I'm scared. And I'm an asshole.

 

I'm selfish because I sat there holding her in my arms years ago envisioning her life and how it would unfold, and it's not going that way. It's not going the way I wanted it to. 

I'm scared because of the unknown. Because I know people. Both outsiders and family don't or won't understand. 

 

I'm an asshole because I'm scared and selfish.