To be honest

Phillypandle

My brother - who's probably one of 4 people who reads this blog - has offered a suggestion: write more about yourself.

So I shall appease the phillypandle and state the following - 

As a child I was terrified of bees and dolls; I have since found peace with each. 

Twice in my life, someone has literally scared the crap out me. Actually pretty funny both times.

The family is the proving ground for us all.  Unlike some with un-asked-for friction, I find this idea approachable, as I love my family (unorthodox as we may be) and I get excited about drawing people close into that someday.  May more things in life wield such enthusiasm.  

The Tribe

The first movie I remember seeing in the theaters with my dad was Home Alone.

I often wonder if the men of today are lost because we have too many choices, and we don't want to commit to anything until we're solid in the areas that count, but we are engulfed in this expectation to both be something and everything at once, and - lost in the mire - we remain at a standstill; we don't think that we're good enough to fill the void in a woman's life until we've figured it all out because a man should know what to do when it counts, and we're terrified that we won't, or that we don't have what it takes because our fathers and their fathers didn't know how to answer that deep heart question and pass it on, so we falter, and so we run.

(**Substitute "I" for "we" in that statement if you please)

First kiss: 2nd grade, Sarah King.  So there's that.

I think a lot about the heavy things, and I dive deep maybe too quickly with people...but I don't know how else to operate.  Perhaps I so readily bolt "out-of-the-box" that I miss out on some crucial "box-thinking" lessons that everyone else seems clued in on. What can ya do?

Speaking of which, Chip 'n Dale underwear: who was quality-checking those things?!

I mean, these blokes don't even wear pants.


I'm a young dude with a substantial mound of student loan debt.  I try not to let financial upheaval get the better of me.  Maybe I don't take it seriously enough, but if anything, I'm not oblivious.  I try to let it establish my gauges, as I peer through the curtain and acknowledge reality.  But you can never let that sort of friction sit, or else it will take you.  You lube abrasion with inspiration/creativity/gumption/what-you-will, and you continue to build you.  Working on it...

One of my prouder moments in life involves giving an older bully a taste of his own medicine; unfortunately he was a she.  Even more unfortunate: her grandma was psychotic.

(Ignoring the previous statement) much of what I do is driven by that all-consuming love that fuels my breath, that has me longing for something not of this place.  I write a lot of ranting word-vomit about that search party.

So, brother, I imagine my future entries will continue to be abstract ramblings, detached yet infused in the greater story we're all writing.  So. Take what you like; leave the rest.

An Honest Moment