So my day yesterday went well. Went upward. Went social. Went positive. Educational day. I realized I have this negative voice in my head that’s much louder, much much louder than the positive voice. In most cases, I see vice much clearer than virtue. (The one notable exception is my college students; I tend to give them unending slack, benefit of the doubt, patience). Ignoring the negative voice today was odd, because I’m like okay I’m not you, I know you’re in my head—which blows—but I’m going to ignore you. And especially in the evening, as fatigue set in, I was like well if I’m not going to say anything negative, what the hell is there to say? And I just sat. And the positive thoughts upstairs seemed gimmicky and absurd, so that’s how much work I have to do.
My sister who’s also a writer said I could gain more The Alt Dad Diar following by implementing periodic challenges and inviting readers to join me. And so I did yesterday. 3 Day Challenge to Be More Positive, yada yada. Be Grateful yada yada. And yesterday it was cool, because I was feeling desperate for redemption. But I’m not gimmicky. I don’t want this to be a space where it’s like 4 Surprising Things You Can Do With Crunchy Peanut Butter. Even though that’s the classic blog advice: be practical, yada yada. Include titles, include numbers in your title, yada yada. That’s not this.
This is a dairy. Which means there’s no day-to-day agenda or sales vision. There’s no strategy team that meets on Sunday nights and sets weekly goals—aside from 109% honesty. It’s me naked-neuron trying to figure out what the hell is going on. And right now the thing I’m trying to figure out is how I can be a good father to my approaching six-month old daughter and allow her to have relationships with all the people she’s going to have relationships with and let her out from my arms and into theirs and release my urge to control and protect her because I’m afraid of losing her because I lost my mom when she died running one morning even though she was in perfect health according to the doctor who gave her a check-up a week before she had a fatal heart attack. What am I supposed to say? Tag a friend who’s mom died of a heart attack? Tag a friend who’s controlling? Tag of friend of loves PB & J?
This is my diary. Supposed to be the one space where I can let it all hang out. I can’t do Pinterest gimmicks. Somedays capitalization rules are followed, somedays not. In the end, even if your wife says go capitalization, you’ve gotta do you. Gotta. And she wants me to do me, so now it’s just up to me.
Here’s what I’m genuinely grateful for. People talk about internet lonely-anxious this and that and yesss I agree but I think we should be really supercalifragilistic grateful for these beautiful passing glimmer in the strangers eye on the opposite side of the bus kind of moments, the magical minute-long mundane moments when you connect with some unexpected someone over god knows what. I think that’s when the universe redeems itself because otherwise you’re traveling here and there, and even on the path less traveled by inevitably you arrive at boredom, you know what I mean? Yesterday Kate and I took Ellie to Target and I rather loathe Target but it was sooooo fun because Ellie was like woooooowwwwwwwww, all this stuff, like seventeen different kinds of peanut butter, and then jelly, and oh my god all of it in my mouth, and woah a clothes rack, and ahh something to grab, tons of somethings to grab, and I saw the wonder in her eyes and I was holding her close so i really felt it and that’s bloody magical.
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