For long stretches I didn't know what to believe. For longer stretches I didn't care. Angry. I think I was angry, at least.
I don't know what I did wrong.
I mean that.
I mean, it was just me, not even me, a me that had no concept of what I even was or would be (could be?).
I carry myself differently. Life operates differently for me.
It probably doesn't, but it feels like it does.
Makes me question more, emotions are tsunamis. Burn hotter, feel colder, then it can just kind of shut off for a while (did I shut it off?) and I'm indifferent, living shruggingly.
Then it's time
to feel again.
I can't.
So I push it farther. To turn it back on.
There is no shame because I've done it before.
I want to spare the world my troubles.
I'm scared people hate who I really am.
I'm afraid I hate who I really am.
I'm scared I will never reach my potential.
I'm scared I have no idea what that even is.
I hate that people can say anything.
I'm afraid about people finding out about me writing this...am I?
Maybe I never knew anything.
Maybe that means I'm gonna be okay.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Saturday, February 15, 2014
TJ Oshie is an American Hero
I was up at 4:30 this morning to watch the USA take on Russia in the motherland in men's hockey.
I regret nothing.
TJ Oshie is a true patriot. Pretty sure TJ stands for Thomas Jefferson.
For the most part I am against the shootout deciding hockey games, but when something big is on the line, it is indescribably awesome.
TJ Oshie. Thank you.
Signed,
THE LAND OF THE FREE AND HOME OF THE BRAVE.
Sunday, February 9, 2014
That Time I Wrote a Book Report About Elmo as a Druglord
In high school SSR was easily my favorite thing we ever did.
For those unfamiliar, SSR stands for Silent Sustained Reading or as it was better known by me, nap time.
Teachers used this time, I'm assuming, mostly to catch up on grading and easily assign some rando (I'm intentionally misspelling random as rando because I've always thought rando was a way better word. Words!) book report.
My senior lit teacher Mr. Fischer was retiring at the end of the school year and I was graduating. We had an unspoken agreement to basically not mess with the other.
He would allow me to take my siesta every Friday during SSR and in turn I wouldn't make pain-stakingly detailed arguments about how a pig could never fire a freaking gun when we read Animal Farm (I actually did this with a friend of mine, Eric, during sophomore year to a teacher we were much less fond of. The story's probably long enough for its own post so I'm just going to say that it ended with us both kicked out of Honors English. We are both now high school lit teachers. WHO'S TOO LITERAL NOW MS. CALDER!? WOOOOOOOOO).
I'm off track.
At the end of the term, we were to produce a book report on the SSR book we had been reading. Because of my nocturnal habits during this period, I saw no reason to bring a book to class. Mr. Fischer had a small library in the back and I would grab one from there that would serve as my pillow for the next 48 minutes.
Eventually, book report time came around. As you can imagine this was a bit of a problem for me seeing as I didn't read a book. However, one of the book report options was to come up with an original story using the protagonist of the novel you had been reading as the protagonist of your short story. My go-to pillow book was a Hercule Poirot mystery novel. I knew from having read the first page of this book that Hercule was an investigator. I surmised he was French Sherlock Holmes.
A quick Google search renders him looking like this:
So, yeah, French Sherlock Holmes (sick mustache bro).
The paper was due the next day and I sat awake at 2am with my friend Steven debating whether I should even attempt it. Steven's advice surmounted to, "Kenny, you're a senior in high school and this is the last thing you'll ever turn in now quit being a lazy ass and do it. Now pass me the fruit snacks." (Steven was Valedictorian of the school the next year and is now a orthopedic surgeon. He is smarter than me.)
I was kind of pissed at him for making me feel guilty about doing it. It was already two in the morning and I just wanted to go to stupid college already. So, I did the most reasonable thing I could think of - I wrote the most asinine and ridiculous paper I could possibly come up with, inspired by my little brother's obsession, at the time, with Sesame St.
What follows is exactly what I turned into Mr. Fischer the next day. Enjoy.
I saw Mr. Fischer a few days after I turned this in and his class was over. He stopped me in the hall (at this point I almost threw up because I knew he was going to say something like, how dare you write this blah blah blah, you can't walk at graduation. But, he didn't.) and brought up my paper.
He told me of the 80 or so book reports he read that mine was the one that stood out. He thanked me for making him laugh and told me he gave me an A.
The next year the drama department at my high school performed the story as part of a production of short acts. Mr. Fischer called my mom to tell her they were performing it so as to make sure she would let me know. I went and watched.
I guess why I'm posting this is because Mr. Fischer could have bawled me out about writing this, and he didn't. He laughed. He honored our unspoken agreement.
And that's why I'm a high school lit teacher today.
For those unfamiliar, SSR stands for Silent Sustained Reading or as it was better known by me, nap time.
Teachers used this time, I'm assuming, mostly to catch up on grading and easily assign some rando (I'm intentionally misspelling random as rando because I've always thought rando was a way better word. Words!) book report.
My senior lit teacher Mr. Fischer was retiring at the end of the school year and I was graduating. We had an unspoken agreement to basically not mess with the other.
He would allow me to take my siesta every Friday during SSR and in turn I wouldn't make pain-stakingly detailed arguments about how a pig could never fire a freaking gun when we read Animal Farm (I actually did this with a friend of mine, Eric, during sophomore year to a teacher we were much less fond of. The story's probably long enough for its own post so I'm just going to say that it ended with us both kicked out of Honors English. We are both now high school lit teachers. WHO'S TOO LITERAL NOW MS. CALDER!? WOOOOOOOOO).
I'm off track.
At the end of the term, we were to produce a book report on the SSR book we had been reading. Because of my nocturnal habits during this period, I saw no reason to bring a book to class. Mr. Fischer had a small library in the back and I would grab one from there that would serve as my pillow for the next 48 minutes.
Eventually, book report time came around. As you can imagine this was a bit of a problem for me seeing as I didn't read a book. However, one of the book report options was to come up with an original story using the protagonist of the novel you had been reading as the protagonist of your short story. My go-to pillow book was a Hercule Poirot mystery novel. I knew from having read the first page of this book that Hercule was an investigator. I surmised he was French Sherlock Holmes.
A quick Google search renders him looking like this:
So, yeah, French Sherlock Holmes (sick mustache bro).
The paper was due the next day and I sat awake at 2am with my friend Steven debating whether I should even attempt it. Steven's advice surmounted to, "Kenny, you're a senior in high school and this is the last thing you'll ever turn in now quit being a lazy ass and do it. Now pass me the fruit snacks." (Steven was Valedictorian of the school the next year and is now a orthopedic surgeon. He is smarter than me.)
I was kind of pissed at him for making me feel guilty about doing it. It was already two in the morning and I just wanted to go to stupid college already. So, I did the most reasonable thing I could think of - I wrote the most asinine and ridiculous paper I could possibly come up with, inspired by my little brother's obsession, at the time, with Sesame St.
What follows is exactly what I turned into Mr. Fischer the next day. Enjoy.
SSR PAPER
IMAGINATIVE PAPER ON HERCULE
POIROT AND THE SEARCH FOR THE MISSING COOKIE.
BY:
Kenny Koberstein
It
was a chilly September afternoon. The
popular private detective Hercule Poirot was on his way to an afternoon
appointment at his newest clients humble abode.
Hercule arrived at Cook E. Monster’s apartment on Sesame St. at
approximately 12 noon, right on time.
Hercule knocked and Cook answered the door promptly.
“Hello
Mr. Poirot, I have been expecting you.”
Hercule immediately noticed that Cook seemed to have some sort of blue
fur under his clothing and an unusually deep soothing voice. A voice that children would love.
“Yes,
hello Mr. Monster, may I come in?” Hercule asked.
“Please
call me Cookie it’s what my friends call me and of course come in.”
Hercule
walked in and took a seat on the couch.
He took a quick gander around the apartment and something which hung on
the wall caught his eye. On the wall
above a large fireplace were 25 cookies all hung in a row, each with a letter
of the alphabet on them. One however,
was missing, the letter “S.” The space
between R and T seemed so lonesome and desolate that it brought a tear to
Hercule’s eye.
“So
Cookie may I inquire to why the letter ‘S’ is missing from your oh so tasty
alphabet?”
“Well
it is interesting you ask that Mr. Poirot for that is the reason that I have
asked you to come here. You see I
noticed yesterday that the letter ‘S’ was missing. You see here on Sesame St., every day I
gather up a few of the local children and teach them the joys and wonders of
the alphabet with my magical cookies.
Tomorrow is the day of which I planned to teach the letter ‘S’. So you see Mr. Poirot, it is imperative that
you recover the missing cookie by 9 A.M. Pacific Standard Time, otherwise the
children of Sesame St. will forever be doomed to an alphabet of only 25 letters
and never understand the joys of plural words or possessive nouns.”
Hercule
was obviously taken aback by the copious task set before him.
“I
feel Cookie that it is my duty to Sesame St. and children everywhere to find
this missing letter ‘S’ and the criminal responsible.”
“Then
go Mr. Poirot and waste no time!”
With
that Hercule ran out the door onto Sesame St.
He knew just where he would start.
A place where booze flows like wine, a place where women instinctively
flock like the salmon of Capistrano, and a place where the only thing in more
abundance than trouble is crack cocaine.
That’s right I’m talking about a little place called “Elmo’s World”
Hercule
entered the tall red building known as “Elmo’s World.” He strolled through the
lobby and took the elevator to the top where he entered the office of the man
himself, Elmo. As he walked into the
office all he saw was a revolving chair facing a large window overlooking the
heights of the city. Cuban tobacco
lingered in the air. The chair turned
slowly and steadily revealing a small, red, furry creature wearing a black
Armani suit obviously just off the rack.
It was Elmo.
“What
do you want gumshoe? You got nothing and you know it, that broad was from
Tijuana. I barely even knew her!”
“Actually
that’s not what I’m here to talk about Elmo. Do you know anything about a
missing ‘S’ right here on Sesame St.?”
“I
might of heard something about it, what’s it to you?”
“How
about this autographed picture of one miss Halle Berry?” This proposal obviously aroused the interest
of Elmo
“Halle
Berry! Now were talking, I don’t know too much about this myself, but I know a
couple of loose talkers that I met in a high stakes dice game in Vegas. Their names are Bert and Ernie.” Elmo reached across the desk and handed
Hercule a card with an address and telephone number on it. “That ought to help you gumshoe.” Elmo said.
“I
appreciate the help Elmo, I’ll be on my way, good luck with the Tijuana
girl.” Hercule quickly sniffed out the
address on the card and arrived at the house of Bert and Ernie around 4 P.M. Hercule walked up to the door first ascending
the steps on the porch, but before he could raise his hand to rap his fist on
the door he heard excited dialogue coming through a small open window next to
the door. Hercule kneeled and crawled to
the window where he crouched and listened.
“Hey
Bert did you hear about Oscar stealing that cookie from Cookie the other day?”
“What
are you talking about Ernie? You talking about Oscar the grouch?”
“No,
Oscar the pleasant, hard-working, dedicated citizen of society! YES, Oscar the grouch. He jacked that cookie just yesterday. It’s
hanging on his trash can as we speak.”
“Oh
that grouch he always was a troublemaker.”
With that Hercule knew he had solved the crime. All that was left to do was apprehend the
culprit and seize the stolen “S” cookie.
On
Sesame St. there is a garbage can. It is
the only garbage can on Sesame St. It
smells like a newly bloomed summer rose, after it was covered with three metric
tons of manure. Hercule approached with
caution for he knew that merely breathing the air here could very well give him
an STD. Then he saw it. The cookie hanging there from the garbage can
like a beacon of hope in this dungeon of filth and decay. Hercule drew his revolver from his hip and
called out. “Come on out Oscar, show’s
over that letter is going back home.”
The grouch rose from his can with his green, matted hair almost looking
like a Bob Marley dreadlock.
“So,
copper you busted me huh? I figured it’d
happen sooner or later, well no reason letting this little beauty going to
waste over my lonesome heart. Here you
go.” Oscar then tossed the cookie to Hercule and began to sink back into his
can, but Hercule stopped him.
“Wait
a second Oscar, I know a good shrink here on Sesame St. I here it’s great
service at premium rates if you don’t mind talking to a big yellow bird. Here is his card.” Hercule flipped the card to the grouch and
then turned to the sunset. He began to
walk back to Cookie with the cookie. He
was happy because he knew that for at least one more day the alphabet was safe
on Sesame St.
He told me of the 80 or so book reports he read that mine was the one that stood out. He thanked me for making him laugh and told me he gave me an A.
The next year the drama department at my high school performed the story as part of a production of short acts. Mr. Fischer called my mom to tell her they were performing it so as to make sure she would let me know. I went and watched.
I guess why I'm posting this is because Mr. Fischer could have bawled me out about writing this, and he didn't. He laughed. He honored our unspoken agreement.
And that's why I'm a high school lit teacher today.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Answer My Questions Australia (or Learn to Love Our Kangaroo Overlords)
Saturday morning my friend Wendy sent me this video. It's a "Stay in School" PSA from Australia.
This video is a monstrosity and is pure nightmare fuel, watch it.
You have so many questions to answer Australia.
Ok, let's start with the obvious. Kids skip school. I am a high school teacher and can pretty much say without a doubt that this is fairly far down the list of terrible things kids do.
I skipped school once in 8th grade. It was the first time I ever skipped, and I had convinced my friend Chris (at least, I think his name was Chris, he wasn't really my friend and I didn't particularly enjoy hanging out with him, but rather he was the only one in my clique who agreed to my idiotic plan) to go along with me.
It was a half day at school (I know, I was stupid, you did dumb stuff in 8th grade too) and we were going to hide out at the track, out of view of the school, until my mom left for work and then walk to my house. I lived about a block from the school. Presumably we were going to play video games and read comic books (no, I didn't have a girlfriend, why?).
The plan went awry fairly quickly. The bench we moved into the bushes to hide out at the track was drenched in the rain the night before. It was like sitting on a block of plywood that had been blasted by Dr. Nefario's freeze ray (#DadLife).
When we finally back to my house, it was pretty awesome (or as awesome it can be to skip middle school with someone you didn't really like or have anything in common with) until my grandma came over to give my dog some medicine. She took us back to school and we were both largely humiliated by the rest of the student body who had known, and previously openly mocked, our own personal Watergate-like master plan. I was also grounded for the duration of that semester.
Again, I'd like to reinforce that I got caught skipping by my grandma during a time of life when you are defined by the uncool stuff that you do.
But I got off easier than these kids.
Now, lets break this video down because I haven't forgotten about you Australia.
(Time stamps on the left if you'd like to follow along)
0:02: Starts off fairly innocently, "Hey lets sneak out the window and jump this fence or whatever!" Somehow this is still more fundamentally sound than my plan. God I was a stupid little kid.
0:03: Trucker hat, sleeveless tee, annoying sunglasses and big curly surfer hair. My grandfather hates this kid.
0:04: Haha, nerds! (But nerds who won't die because they went to school that day, take that fun-loving, life experiencing youth of Australia.)
0:13: This guy died and it's sad, sure, but someone will take his place as being the annoying guy at college parties who brings his guitar for no discernible reason. There are enough of him. Maybe this was natural selection?
0:18: I don't have a problem with throwing the map out the window for navigational purposes (do you not have cell phones Australia? Do you send text messages on notepads that Tazmanian Devils deliver to one another?) that's just littering though. Not cool.
0:21: Ok, this is where my questions really start, Australia. Is going to beaches through holes in chain link fences a really common thing that you're doing? Why are all of your beaches chained off? Are you breeding a race of murderous, ravenous Kangaroos to enslave the human race while training them on your top-secret beaches?
0:24: This song sucks. It's like Dave Matthews and Jack Johnson got together to somehow find a way to piss me off even more.
0:29: Sand slide!!!!
Who does this? There's sand in the cooler now, in his shorts, just...what the hell?
0:37: Did this become a Corona commercial for a second? Because Corona's commercials would be way better if they ended like this one.
0:44: Now it's a Nicholas Sparks movie and the above comment is still relevant.
0:47: I am so confused by this point. What is wrong with your young people Australia and where are all the Kangaroos!?
0:54: Abercrombie is totes confused.
0:55: OMG THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!!!
0:57: HAHAHAHA NOT IN AUSTRALIA SLACKERS *DEAD*
0:58: At least that song stopped playing.
0:59: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO *TORSO EXPLODES*
Next question, Australia: These kids have been playing on this beach for what is presumably a fairly significant amount of time and they are just now entering whatever IED LANDMINE HELLHOLE you've laid out for them?
Do you have the shittiest landmines ever Australia? Is this a thinly veiled PSA about how awful your army is?
1:04: Great idea, run through the DEATHSCAPE that you've just watched your friends die a brutally gruesome death in. I can now see your point on why these kids should have stayed in school Australia.
1:06: "YOU'RE SLOWING ME DOWN"
Does this moron think the landmines are chasing him or....MURDEROUS KANGAROOS ARE CHASING THEM OFF SCREEN AND OH MY GOD THIS IS STARTING TO MAKE SENSE NOW.
1:08: This is the face of someone who wishes they would have went to geometry that day.
1:09: IF YOU SKIP SCHOOL ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS WILL DIE AND THEIR INSIDES WILL EXPLODE ALL OVER YOU SO STAY IN SCHOOL KIDS!
What happens to this girl anyway? Is she just stuck there? This commercial needs a sequel where we watch this girl try to escape from HELLSCAPE BEACH. If we can have 19 Saw movies I can get an epilogue to this PSA.
1:29: Now, finally, here's where this PSA/continent of Australia really steps up the insanity.
What in the blue hell is going on in your little prison colony of a continent Australia?
Six questions for you Aussies:
1 - Why wasn't this EXPLOSIVES TESTING SITE more clearly marked? I feel like these types of places should be REALLY CLEARLY MARKED. Ya'know with more than a 3x3 foot sign on a MASSIVE fence.
2 - Was anyone thinking to themselves, "Hey, maybe we should fix that hole in the fence of our EXPLOSIVES TESTING SITE?"
3 - Whose job is it to guard this place? Really feels like they're dropping the ball letting teenagers drive right up and walk in.
4 - There are very clear explosions going off in the background of this picture. Did the kids not see these horrific mushroom clouds? Or did they see them and were just like, "Nah, that's probably just some radical BBQ action." ( I really wanted to shoehorn a Guy Fieri joke in here but just couldn't figure out how.)
5 - I just realized this, DOES AUSTRALIA EVEN HAVE AN ARMY!?!?
6 - If Australia doesn't have an army (I'm assuming they don't), who is testing these explosives!?
This video is a monstrosity and is pure nightmare fuel, watch it.
You have so many questions to answer Australia.
Ok, let's start with the obvious. Kids skip school. I am a high school teacher and can pretty much say without a doubt that this is fairly far down the list of terrible things kids do.
I skipped school once in 8th grade. It was the first time I ever skipped, and I had convinced my friend Chris (at least, I think his name was Chris, he wasn't really my friend and I didn't particularly enjoy hanging out with him, but rather he was the only one in my clique who agreed to my idiotic plan) to go along with me.
It was a half day at school (I know, I was stupid, you did dumb stuff in 8th grade too) and we were going to hide out at the track, out of view of the school, until my mom left for work and then walk to my house. I lived about a block from the school. Presumably we were going to play video games and read comic books (no, I didn't have a girlfriend, why?).
The plan went awry fairly quickly. The bench we moved into the bushes to hide out at the track was drenched in the rain the night before. It was like sitting on a block of plywood that had been blasted by Dr. Nefario's freeze ray (#DadLife).
When we finally back to my house, it was pretty awesome (or as awesome it can be to skip middle school with someone you didn't really like or have anything in common with) until my grandma came over to give my dog some medicine. She took us back to school and we were both largely humiliated by the rest of the student body who had known, and previously openly mocked, our own personal Watergate-like master plan. I was also grounded for the duration of that semester.
Again, I'd like to reinforce that I got caught skipping by my grandma during a time of life when you are defined by the uncool stuff that you do.
But I got off easier than these kids.
Now, lets break this video down because I haven't forgotten about you Australia.
(Time stamps on the left if you'd like to follow along)
0:02: Starts off fairly innocently, "Hey lets sneak out the window and jump this fence or whatever!" Somehow this is still more fundamentally sound than my plan. God I was a stupid little kid.
0:03: Trucker hat, sleeveless tee, annoying sunglasses and big curly surfer hair. My grandfather hates this kid.
0:04: Haha, nerds! (But nerds who won't die because they went to school that day, take that fun-loving, life experiencing youth of Australia.)
0:13: This guy died and it's sad, sure, but someone will take his place as being the annoying guy at college parties who brings his guitar for no discernible reason. There are enough of him. Maybe this was natural selection?
0:18: I don't have a problem with throwing the map out the window for navigational purposes (do you not have cell phones Australia? Do you send text messages on notepads that Tazmanian Devils deliver to one another?) that's just littering though. Not cool.
0:21: Ok, this is where my questions really start, Australia. Is going to beaches through holes in chain link fences a really common thing that you're doing? Why are all of your beaches chained off? Are you breeding a race of murderous, ravenous Kangaroos to enslave the human race while training them on your top-secret beaches?
0:24: This song sucks. It's like Dave Matthews and Jack Johnson got together to somehow find a way to piss me off even more.
0:29: Sand slide!!!!
Who does this? There's sand in the cooler now, in his shorts, just...what the hell?
0:37: Did this become a Corona commercial for a second? Because Corona's commercials would be way better if they ended like this one.
0:44: Now it's a Nicholas Sparks movie and the above comment is still relevant.
0:47: I am so confused by this point. What is wrong with your young people Australia and where are all the Kangaroos!?
0:54: Abercrombie is totes confused.
0:55: OMG THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!!!
0:57: HAHAHAHA NOT IN AUSTRALIA SLACKERS *DEAD*
0:58: At least that song stopped playing.
0:59: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO *TORSO EXPLODES*
Next question, Australia: These kids have been playing on this beach for what is presumably a fairly significant amount of time and they are just now entering whatever IED LANDMINE HELLHOLE you've laid out for them?
Do you have the shittiest landmines ever Australia? Is this a thinly veiled PSA about how awful your army is?
1:04: Great idea, run through the DEATHSCAPE that you've just watched your friends die a brutally gruesome death in. I can now see your point on why these kids should have stayed in school Australia.
1:06: "YOU'RE SLOWING ME DOWN"
Does this moron think the landmines are chasing him or....MURDEROUS KANGAROOS ARE CHASING THEM OFF SCREEN AND OH MY GOD THIS IS STARTING TO MAKE SENSE NOW.
1:08: This is the face of someone who wishes they would have went to geometry that day.
1:09: IF YOU SKIP SCHOOL ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS WILL DIE AND THEIR INSIDES WILL EXPLODE ALL OVER YOU SO STAY IN SCHOOL KIDS!
1:29: Now, finally, here's where this PSA/continent of Australia really steps up the insanity.
What in the blue hell is going on in your little prison colony of a continent Australia?
1 - Why wasn't this EXPLOSIVES TESTING SITE more clearly marked? I feel like these types of places should be REALLY CLEARLY MARKED. Ya'know with more than a 3x3 foot sign on a MASSIVE fence.
2 - Was anyone thinking to themselves, "Hey, maybe we should fix that hole in the fence of our EXPLOSIVES TESTING SITE?"
3 - Whose job is it to guard this place? Really feels like they're dropping the ball letting teenagers drive right up and walk in.
4 - There are very clear explosions going off in the background of this picture. Did the kids not see these horrific mushroom clouds? Or did they see them and were just like, "Nah, that's probably just some radical BBQ action." ( I really wanted to shoehorn a Guy Fieri joke in here but just couldn't figure out how.)
5 - I just realized this, DOES AUSTRALIA EVEN HAVE AN ARMY!?!?
6 - If Australia doesn't have an army (I'm assuming they don't), who is testing these explosives!?
This is the only explanation.
Sunday, February 2, 2014
I Used to Have a Blog
About two years ago I kind of quit writing (well, blogging at least, I'm not really sure you ever quit writing).
My son was starting to walk, I was about to change jobs, I was moving 400 miles away, it just seemed like a logical time to stop writing. Add on top of that having no time and it was pretty easy to walk away.
Since that time, some things changed.
Well, everything really.
My job changed; my priorities changed; the way I look at the world changed roughly every other day. I found things, then I lost them, and then, a few times, I found them again, but they weren't the same.
I want to start trying this out again and I guess this is the place where I'm going to do that.
I'm not really wearing a suit, that would kind of be weird. Actually I was watching TV and Leonardo Di Caprio was on there in this suit that probably costs more than my rent, so that's where the name comes from. Maybe some time I'll wear a suit while I blog so I'm not a total poser (fyi, the word poser sucks, I just couldn't think of a better one, phony maybe?)
Pertinent things to know about me: I have two sons (they're better than your kids probably, yeah I'm that dad), I'm a teacher (writing, are you surprised?), sometimes I coach (football), I'm allergic to fresh fruits and vegetables (no, seriously, why are you laughing....jerk), I believe in God (and I'm thankful for the work he's done in my life, even when it sucks) and I'm going through a divorce...
What I'll probably write about: Stuff I think is funny, stories of my life, things I've read and have an opinion on or feel like you should have an opinion on too, movies, TV, music, food, conversations I have with people, more funny stuff, sports (maybe?), depression and mental health (I've wrestled with this in my life and we should talk about it more as a society), and mostly whatever else I want to write about or yell about. I yell a lot.
This is a space I want to enjoy. Maybe you will too; that would be cool.
I just need a place for my mind to stay for a while every once in a while.
"...So I learned cut out the middle man, make it all for everybody, always. Everybody can't turn around and tell everybody, everybody already knows.
I told them."
My son was starting to walk, I was about to change jobs, I was moving 400 miles away, it just seemed like a logical time to stop writing. Add on top of that having no time and it was pretty easy to walk away.
Since that time, some things changed.
Well, everything really.
My job changed; my priorities changed; the way I look at the world changed roughly every other day. I found things, then I lost them, and then, a few times, I found them again, but they weren't the same.
I want to start trying this out again and I guess this is the place where I'm going to do that.
I'm not really wearing a suit, that would kind of be weird. Actually I was watching TV and Leonardo Di Caprio was on there in this suit that probably costs more than my rent, so that's where the name comes from. Maybe some time I'll wear a suit while I blog so I'm not a total poser (fyi, the word poser sucks, I just couldn't think of a better one, phony maybe?)
Pertinent things to know about me: I have two sons (they're better than your kids probably, yeah I'm that dad), I'm a teacher (writing, are you surprised?), sometimes I coach (football), I'm allergic to fresh fruits and vegetables (no, seriously, why are you laughing....jerk), I believe in God (and I'm thankful for the work he's done in my life, even when it sucks) and I'm going through a divorce...
What I'll probably write about: Stuff I think is funny, stories of my life, things I've read and have an opinion on or feel like you should have an opinion on too, movies, TV, music, food, conversations I have with people, more funny stuff, sports (maybe?), depression and mental health (I've wrestled with this in my life and we should talk about it more as a society), and mostly whatever else I want to write about or yell about. I yell a lot.
This is a space I want to enjoy. Maybe you will too; that would be cool.
I just need a place for my mind to stay for a while every once in a while.
"...So I learned cut out the middle man, make it all for everybody, always. Everybody can't turn around and tell everybody, everybody already knows.
I told them."
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