Looking back at the last 7 months of The Alt Dad Diary. I see the ups and the downs. Good posts, bad posts.

Some days I struggle. Flatline EKG description of I-did-this I-did-that. At least that’s what it feels like. Grabbing for meaning. I write about my coconut oil coffee, or the dog. Then maybe something semi-meaningful comes to mind because even on days when nothing happens, something always happens.

Other days it comes easy. Pushes from my fingers, stands my neck hair on end. On these rare good days, I can capture something I’ve been wanting to stay for long time. The words find me.

But honestly, in hindsight, the ups and downs all blend into one thing. Just part of the process. Just struggle. Just desire.

I know I already said this, but if you do this for 7 months, the realization that some days are interesting and some days are not starts to hit you. Hit you like the glove of a 185 Ib heavy weight world champ. Hit you like cold cold cold shower water. Like cold shower water that stays COLD even after you turn the handle to HOT. The unavoidable realization is that I’m really trying to make my diary interesting. Which is pathetic. But also understandable. And I see this. Hear it in my sentences. The squeaky whiny yearning to be more than I am. Or less than I am. Less obsessed. Less hungry. Like I hear myself saying dude be chill, people like chill. But if I’m one thing, it’s rarely chill.

Last week, I met with a college freshman who petitioned to be in my English class but the Chair denied her because she is grumpy and anti-fun. The college freshman reads my posts. I met with her for coffee because she said had some wisdom to share. Or actually I told her she must have some wisdom to share if she’s reading my posts. She said dude, don’t worry, do you.

At that moment, I was like what woah. Like Lasik just zapped my foggy retinas. And yet I swing back and forth. Do they like me? Do they like me now? How about now?

Am I going on Facebook Live because I need to know that people see me or because I have something to say? Would I write if I was the last person standing on Earth? Pummel pen to paper for writing’s sake?

I feel the mood swing from minute to minute. I can only tell myself yo it’s part of the process. I write it about now because I didn’t know this 7 months ago. And also because, I feel the same thing about life generally. Ups, downs. Doubt. Struggle. Hustle. Desire.

>>>HEY MATES. It makes my day when I get an email from Patreon saying that one of you took the leap of YESWEDIGYOURSHIT and became a supporter. The monthly dollar amount matters, but as much as just getting the email. Patreon has a bright orange logo. So maybe that’s it. Maybe I see Patreon and see the sun and maybe that reminds me of my mom, because she had suns hanging on every wall. So if you’re curious, here’s how it works. You finger peck into your browser: Your support matters in an existential way too. Helps remind me that I should keep doing this. Not that I don’t want to keep doing this just for me. But I go back and forth, you know? Back and forth. Peace peace peace.