November 10, 2015

Isn't Life Strange?

This post started off as a word. An idea- content. In my mind it started to grow into a tweet, sprang some arms and legs, maybe a heart and almost grew into a Facebook status. But somewhere in its fetal zygote state it demanded more. Put on some music it said, sit with me and gestate; let's see if you can give me birth.

I had no idea what to expect. I was tired when I started. Getting over a cold can leave you flat, like you've spent all of your energy lifting heavy things off your flattened body- houses, trees, trucks and vans come to mind. But that wasn't my day, heavy had nothing to do with it.

Today was easy and light. The weight of my sickness was more like a feather I simply blew off. So why am I so tried? It went like this:

Woke up late(ish) past eight. The girls tired and groggy left us alone for the most part. Gone are the days of their constant need for attention. Upon waking up we decided to meet some friends for coffee at the park, so we got on our bikes and rode beneath the clear blue sky toward the ocean.

We decided to meet some friends for coffee at the park, so we got on our bikes and rode beneath the clear blue sky toward the ocean.

We decided to meet some friends for coffee at the park, so we got on our bikes and rode beneath the clear blue sky toward the ocean.

Sounds good enough to say three times. They rode their bikes too and our children played while we spoke about our lives and our jobs and our maids, until we realized it was time for lunch, so we moved a restaurant over and had margaritas and naan.

We rode home for a swim. I told my kids that I was proud of them for a variety of things, like falling and not making a big deal about it.  I yelled at them for being selfish assholes. I didn't use the word asshole, but wondered when I could use it for more effect.

I don't want them to be selfish assholes. (At this very moment I am listening to Dress (demo) by PJ Harvey and everything in the universe is flowing through my veins and my skin is gone and I'm not sure who is typing these words.)

After the swim, which was refreshing and quiet and necessary, the girls played on their own, while I read and slept and read and slept and dreamed and rejoiced, and read and slept until I was a groggy rested blob of self. After crawling out of bed....

I hugged and tickled the girls, told them I loved them and yelled at them for yelling at each other. I felt foolish and stupid, but then lost myself in the book about people who break their way out of stone.

After dinner we put the girls to sleep and decided to write this rambling post instead of a Facebook status. I'm still pretending like you care and that sharing these moments clothed in these word matters for some reason. 

I hope you might read them- old friend from high school, uncle, co-worker, friend, random twitter follower, ex-girlfriend, father- and you might shake your head and think- Man! Jabiz is weird. These words might remind you of why you care about me in any way that you might now or might have in the past.

You might think as you skim your social network (Your thumb scrolling all our lives into an endless feed of news stories, cat videos and pictures of the primate genocide) that- This is something, not sure what it is. It is not exceptionally well written or even proofread, but it appears he has chosen to smear some thoughts on my ethereal cyberwall. It might not be much, but.....

This was a day and I lived it and these words are a testament to that living. There has to be value in that.

Now, I 'm gonna grab a glass of red wine, slink into bed and watch Fargo. I haven't run in a few days or worked on my novel. I have been sick I tell myself. That is a good excuse. I have been living. I hope that is enough. I have a race in a few weeks and my draft is due soon.

I have never been good at goals. But sleeping, reading, yelling, swimming, These things I can do.

In closing, when I was twelve years old, I walked into Supercuts and said I want this haircut please:

Now at forty one, I hope to see something like this in the mirror by months end:

Isn't life strange?

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