Blog

  • Spending the Night

    The kid is at the age of “Peek Sleepovers.” Such as, the success or failure of a weekend can be determined if a sleepover occurs, regardless if the sleepover is a success or not. The kid has taken part in a few “slumber birthday parties,” and a weekend away with a friend whose family has a place out of the City. I do use the term “Peek” not only because the kid is super excited about having a sleepover, but also because the kids are still at the age where they will go to bed at a relatively decent hour, so we can all get some sleep. Once they get to middle school age, then it turns into staying up all night and watching movies, and there is no guarantee that I or the wife will be able to get any rest. But, as of now, the kid is happy, and that makes everyone happy.

    There other thing that I am happy for is that the kid has no issues with spending the night and being away from us. Not all kids are like that.

    I wasn’t – I went through phases though. When I was little, I had no problem sleeping over. Then somewhere around nine, it began to bother me being away from home. Like the first few hours would be fine, then all of a sudden, a feeling of dread came over me, like I would never see my family again, or ever be happy. I know that I was feeling home sick, and that’s natural, but the feeling was so controlling and paralyzing, and the only thing I could think of was getting home. And then when I got home, I was overcome with shame, that I didn’t have the courage of strength to spend the night, and, you know, be a normal kid. When friends would invite me over to spend the night, I would come up with excuses why I couldn’t.

    Then, it just all went away. The fear, the anxiety, all of it was just gone. I remember it was 6th grade, and I was over at my friend David’s house with some other kids. We all stayed for dinner, and then his parents said if we wanted to spend the night we could. There clearly was a bit of it was peer pressure to stay over, but also, I didn’t get that sinking feeling in my stomach. I remember calling my parents to ask if I could stay, and my mother asking me over and over and over if I was sure I wanted to do this. I said that I was, and then not thinking about it again. I ran home and grabbed some clothes and a sleeping bag, and I was just excited to hang out with friends, and stay up all night.

    I think we watched “Let’s Get Harry” on Cinemax because we thought it was a dirty movie. It’s not a dirty movie, it’s just a really bad and dull movie.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Rock Stars in the 70’s, Cologne, and Mr Moustache

    (Won’t you believe it? It’s just my luck…)

    Okay, so if you were to ask me which decade had the better pop/rock music (60’s or 70’s,) I would clearly go with the 60’s. (My Beatles fandom should have given that away.) But what decade was it better to be in a rock band? Well, that has to be the 70’s. The main reason I will say that has to do with how male rock stars looked; which was awful. Sure, some people totally rocked denim suits and had the right hair, but on the whole, honestly, you could look anywhere from “awful” to a “normal guy,” and could be considered a star. You could be a little pudgy, or really hairy – no one cared. It was the “You Be You” decade of rock stars.

    I don’t ware cologne anymore. This isn’t some big choice or stand I am making when it comes to hygiene or scents. No, I have never bought myself cologne. I have had cologne, but that was due to the person I was dating, or wife, buying it for me. It’s just one of those things that never crosses my mind that I need to have. I mean, I think I take pretty good care of my self – again, I believe I have good hygiene. But smell good stuff… Yeah, never think about it. Not that I am opposed, just… you know… Not my thing.

    I am down to the final week of the moustache. Actually, the final nine days. I don’t mind it, but I also don’t think it looks right on me. It’s better than the beard, which I might not go back to for a very long time. I have noticed that people do react differently to me. My guess is that they think I am either a cop or a firefighter. But, more like a cop or firefighter that is compensating for something.

  • Earworm Thursday

    I haven’t been able to get this song out of my head. The wife had it on a playlist that I listened to this weekend, which was cool. It reminded me that I saw Beck live on the Midnite Vultures tour.

  • My Least Favorite Part

    One of the goals that I set for myself this year was to submit my work to more magazines. I sent out a bunch in 2023, and sort of fell off the wagon in 2024, and that is why I am hitting the ground running in 2025. Well, at least relative to my situation. My goal was to send out to ten different magazines this month, and today, I accomplished it. Not an enormous step, but a step none the less.

    And as I was reading issues and guidelines from new magazines and journals, I started to feel like I did when I was acting, and going out on auditions – which was nervous, a little anxious, and also a touch of faked confidence. I mean I got work, but like all actors, I struck out more often than not. I accepted that it was part of the business, but I never learned to enjoy it. I have friends who love to audition – get in the room, try stuff out, see what works. They like the challenge of it all.

    For me, auditioning was the necessary evil that I had to go through to get what I wanted, and that was rehearsal. I loved every part of rehearsal. The table read, getting there early, making new friends in the cast and crew, learning how each other works, the discovery of the process, the bad days, and the good days, and that feeling of at any moment it could all go off the rails but somehow always magically came together. Not always, but most of the time. Performance was extra, the icing on the cake. Rehearsal was the fun of work. And I really do miss that.

  • Soccer Travel Team and Sports in General

    So, over the weekend, the kid got an invitation to tryout for a youth travel soccer team. This is something that she has wanted for some time, and was excited that the club had kept her in mind. I mean, who doesn’t like being asked to dance, right? There was a flurry in our home of making sure we had all the right equipment, and socks, and shin guards. Not that you need to have perfect equipment to be good at a sport, (Is it not the bad carpenter who complains about their tools?) but having the right stuff sure can boost your confidence.

    In my parenting philosophy, I believe that kids should play a sport, up to the age of sixteen. It was the way my parents raised me, and I have to say that it did me good. I played baseball up until twelve, and then I switched over to tennis. No real surprise here, but baseball taught me the importance of teamwork, and working toward a common goal. I loved tennis because, I was all on my own to make it happen; just me versus the other guy – which left no room to blame anyone for a mistake, other than yourself. Both sports don’t use a clock, which I guess is why I enjoy taking my time at things?

    I hope that the kid makes the team, but I also know that it’s not the end of the world if it doesn’t work out. There are plenty of other sports and teams in the City, so she will get the experience of being on a team and all the joy, excitement and disappointment that comes along with it.

    Because learning to lose and not giving up is the biggest lesson one can learn. And there is also something wonderful about being on a truly awful team. And still showing up week after week, hoping that this is the day that your fortunes change, and you win just one.

    Maybe that was my experience…