Tag Archives: pants

Sometimes it is people

Let me begin with an understatement. Things are a little screwy in our country right now. Actually, there a little screwy in the world as a whole right now.

I think I’m probably not alone when I say I’m torn up when it comes to interacting with my fellow humans. We are social creatures and even the most reclusive of us need some interaction, even if it’s through social media. But for much of the past year, I find that being interactive and informed is giving my mental health a constant kick to the crotch. Seriously, just sitting down to write this has taken a few days of personal pep talks.

With all due respect to those of you with religious convictions, I am not a person who has ever gotten much comfort from an almighty anything. If it helps you, that’s cool. I agree there are things in the world that are hard to explain. But I’m someone who needs to put his faith in other things. Sometimes science, sometimes karma, sometimes nature. Sometimes it’s just Occam’s razor.

Sometimes it is people.

This is the one I struggle with the most. People, as a whole, are really hard to put faith in. An individual person is a little easier, but it’s also riskier. It hurts more if the individual fails you than the group.

So why do it? Why put any faith at all in people? We are prone to being greedy. We are easily scared and tend to react negatively to fear. It seems we are increasingly unlikely to listen to each other. So why do I even try to bother with people at all?

Because every now and then, I’m reminded that people are potential. People are capable of just as much good as bad. People are change, which is a crazy thought in itself since we can be so resistant to changing anything. Yet we continue to change, for the better or the worse, and we’ll continue to do so. Things will become amazing. Things will become terrible. This is due to the choices we make as people. And in the big scheme of the multiverse none of it matters. How crazy is that? Space and time continue while so many of our societies have fallen apart. But people continue to be here. We continue to move and make noise and try to make ourselves have significance. We continue to put on pants. Why is there any significance to pants?!? People made it so! Holy fuck!

It’s hard to remember this, but people give me hope. Not all the time. We like to pay attention to bad things. Frankly, negative is usually louder. For someone like myself, it doesn’t take a lot to send me into a swan dive towards depression. But a few times a week, I get a little reminder. Maybe it’s something my family does. Maybe a stranger is just unexpectedly kind. Maybe it’s just a really good cup of coffee or an amazing song I haven’t heard in a while. All these things involve people making a moment happen. Sure, I need to get away from other people to recharge my energy. That doesn’t mean I want a Twilight Zone, last man on Earth scenario. I want people to exist in my world. Even if it means I have to deal with the scary ones.

So sometimes, I have to put my faith in people. I think it’s worth it.  If I’m wrong, I guess there is always good old-fashioned voodoo.

 

We are grown ups

My wife Lisa and I are both in our thirties. We have our hobbit-sized home that we pay the bills for and try to keep somewhat clean. We have our two children and one weird cat that we feed, love, and do our best to keep alive. We both have jobs that pay us in legal currency.

So I guess we are grown ups? Is that how it works?

We have more meals that include some form of leftover than ones that don’t. My wife has, in the past, thrown her back out and will get heartburn. I have joints that ache. I’m sure, like many people, I am carrying around more weight than I really should. Yet on nights off from work, I will still shove ice cream into my stupid face.

We are grown ups.

My kids are growing up faster than I want them to, but I can’t wait to see the kind of people they become. Unless they are jerks. Honestly, the idea that my kids will turn into some of the assholes that I encounter on a daily basis terrifies me. Lisa and I are doing the best we can to make sure they are functional human beings. I really want them to be good people. Yet I will lay down at night and think of the things I probably fucked up on that particular day. I do this kind of worrying almost every night.

We are grown ups.

There are days that I don’t shower or put on real pants. My wife still laughs whenever one of the girls farts. I will walk around the house singing about what I happen to be doing at the moment. Or singing about the cat. Or the kids. There are lots of stupid songs that happen in my house.

We are grown ups?

My wife and I stress each other out. We could probably be the basis of a crappy sitcom or reality show. We will always say we love one another, then in the same day say something stupid we can’t take back. We have gotten in some of the dumbest arguments that any couple could possibly have. Then we apologize and try to move on. We both love our family and work hard at it. We are a team. We are friends.

We are grown ups.

Things that were said

How often are you surprised by what comes out of your own mouth?

At least a few times a week, I say something which then causes me to just take a moment. Usually, it is either to my wife or my daughters. Sometimes, it’s to the cat. Once in a while, it will be to friends or other people. I’m not talking about stupid stuff that might make someone chase me down with a pitchfork. Mainly, these are a collection of words that I just never thought would leave me lips. They almost always sound weird out of context. Honestly, sometimes even knowing the context doesn’t help.

So for your enjoyment, I have compiled a short list of these little word gerbils. Some are from awhile back and, try as I might, I have never been able to live them down. Take from them what you will.

1) “Do not ride your sister!”

2) “There are cookies in the squirrel.”

3) “Do you have fart amnesia?”

4) “Why is there a price tag on our daughter?”

5) “Stop licking my slippers!”

6) “Maybe you have butt fleas.”

7) “Don’t make mommy sniff your foot.”

8) “So you have tuna pants now?”

9) “We appear to have a sink cat.”

10) “Now I’m covered in yogurt.”

The quest for cool

I am a few months shy of my 36th birthday. For better or for worse, I am considered an adult. A grown up. A somewhat productive member of society. I like to think that I’ve had some success in my life to go along with some of the failure. For instance, I have never left the house without remembering to put on pants. Hey, I didn’t say I always set the bar high! You try walking around town with no pants and see how far you get. I dare you.

Anyway, one thing I don’t think I ever quite reached was that point where a person becomes cool. That’s right. One of the holy artifacts of high school. The mantle of cool. That point when you look in the mirror and not only think it yourself, but you KNOW that everyone else thinks the same thing. You are deemed to be cool. It’s a quest everyone starts in their youth, whether we realize it or not, and it never seems to go away.

So why am I not cool? For starters, this is not a word I’ve heard others use to describe me. That’s not to say I don’t ever get compliments, all of which I appreciate. Of course I’ve heard some less flattering things. Self-described beta male, remember? We kind of invite a certain level of mockery. But even that isn’t necessarily bad. Sometimes just teasing from friends (or a loving yet snarky wife) that is meant in fun. But the point is, I can’t say I get told that I am cool.

I’m pretty sure I don’t dress cool. When I’m not dressed for work, I wear jeans and a T-shirt I likely purchased from ThinkGeek . Maybe a flannel shirt or sweatshirt over that. My style hasn’t changed much since the 90’s. I just like to be comfortable.

The things I like tend to lean towards nerdy. I enjoy fantasy novels and I play Dungeons and Dragons. If you haven’t yet read it, my last post was dedicated to superheroes. I have an undying love of all things Muppet. Seriously, you don’t know how excited I am that I get to watch Sesame Street with my kids. I own an R2-D2 bottle opener. I make up songs about our cat. Now, I realize some of these things are more acceptable to love now than they once were. Saying you like comics or the Lord of the Rings won’t make you quite the bully target that they used to. Neither will playing board games. But are they considered cool. I doubt it. I’m pretty sure making up a song about the cat to the tune of Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man” will always be very far from cool.

The funny thing is, I’m not quite sure what would make me cool. What is the current standard? I’m pretty sure that by the time I caught up to it, the definition will have changed again. Is it about confidence? If that’s the case, I think there are fewer cool people in the world than we realize. I don’t know many people who are void of insecurities. The ones who are may very well think they are cool. Those few people also happen to be totally oblivious to their flaws or the consequences of their actions. If that is what it takes to be cool, I don’t know that it’s worth the trade. I like that I am capable of introspection. Sure, I sometimes do this to a fault, but I think it proves that I’m still able to learn.

One last thing. I am the father of two little girls. One day, they will be two teenage girls. There is no way in Hell that they will think I am cool. What teenager really thinks that their parents are cool? So I like to think that I have one up on any parents who, unlike myself, are of the opinion that they are cool. I have the benefit of saying to my kids, “You don’t think I’m cool? That’s fine. I’m used to it. Now help Daddy find his dragon coffee mug.”

Pants of life

Today my one-year-old crawled out of her pants.

I should mention that they are a bit too big for her. I also didn’t actually watch her do it. All I know is that one minute, Zoe was on one side of the playroom wearing her pants. The next thing I know, she had crawled to the other side and her pants didn’t go with her.

Should I take this as some kind of sign? Are the pants of life I’m trying to wear too large? I feel like I make a pretty strong effort everyday. I try to be a good husband and a good daddy. I make an effort to be a good friend. I go to my job and I work like I’m supposed to. Is that enough?

I do all these things while trying to be true to myself. Like everyone, I have bad days and there is nothing I can do about them. It’s just reality. As I’ve said before, I also deal with depression and that can make the bad days a lot worse. But I acknowledge those feelings for what they are, I take my medication, and I do the best I can. Really, it’s all just another stitch in the pants I’m wearing. But is that enough?

Has my baby become some kind of infant Nostradamus? Will she and her sister be doomed to watch their father trip and fall because he couldn’t keep his pants of life up?  And will I end up crawling towards failure, leaving behind pants I never should have put on in the first place? Is there no existential belt that can save me?

Of course it’s entirely possible, as well as much more likely, that Zoe is just too little right now for the pants she has on. Big pants on a little baby will ultimately not stay up.

Maybe I just need to get out more. Maybe I’m just using this moment as an excuse to talk about pants for no real reason.  Yeah, that’s probably it.