down at the crossroads

I wonder if I have come to a crossroads… though, it’s truly more like a multi-branch intersection or even a roundabout but that fails to have the same musical allusion, so… and the decision I make next will greatly impact the path I travel for the next little bit.  I guess the good thing about this, if it is in fact a turning point, is that I can always walk back to this point and choose a different direction.  Whatever I choose does not have to be forever.

I have way too many started but unfinished writing projects… and I’m thinking about publishing them here as is so I can start over fresh on something new, without the guilt of these works-in-progress hanging over me.

If I were to take what I’ve written and schedule it out into nice little bite sized pieces of 300-500 words (or full chapters depending on the project), I would have daily posts for the rest of this year and well into the next…

Or…

I could set them aside for later, as I have been doing, because maybe one day I’ll have the energy to complete them…

Or…

I could stare at them one at a time until inspiration hits and I’m able to add words to them and eventually maybe I’d get one, or all, ready to publish.

So, here I am needing to pick a direction and unsure which one to choose.  I’m stalling, choosing none and therefore doing nothing.  The easiest would be to continue on us I have been, start a new project I’m excited about and not worry about the half-finished ones cluttering up my writing folder.  The next easiest would be to admit I’m not going to finish them and let them go, share them with you, my faithful kingdomites.  The hardest would be to force myself to finish them…

And admitting that is kind of a hard truth, right?  Does that mean I’m not really a writer, that I’m not really a novelist?  I’ve been trying to convince myself that I’m an author for 4 years now and perhaps it is time to set my aspirations a bit lower?  When I’m not excited to put in the work to actually finish any of these projects… but I have published before… but those were all projects with other writers, other authors and so I was able to hold myself accountable to finish my parts through peer pressure… but I have published before… but but but…  Here I am talking myself in circles and still doing nothing.

So, I find myself at a crossroads and need to pick a direction.

one moment

Adulting is hard.

Parenting is harder.

But then there are moments where everything comes together…

Picture, if you will, a simple car ride up the street to run an errand, four-year-old ensconced in his chair in the back, and a familiar tune begins to play through the speakers.  My voice comes in to join the singer’s, as is my way, and a small voice from the backseat chimes in.  And there it is.  I’m singing in the car with the little prince.

I didn’t ask him to sing.  I didn’t force him to learn the words.  It was a familiar song, yes, one I’ve played a lot, one that I’ve sung to a lot, one he has sung to before on his own at home.  He memorized the words on his own, though, and in that moment he chose to sing with me rather than just listen, rather than telling me stop singing so he could sing, rather than telling me to stop so we could just hear the true artist.  He joined his voice, small as it was, so we would be singing together.

I don’t know that I could adequately explain why that meant so much to me, both in general and on that day and I doubt he had any idea, but I nearly cried.  I grew up singing in the car.  Some of my earliest memories are of my dad thumping a steady rock beat out on the center console while the whole car exploded with our (often terrible) singing.  Leaving that image as is, perhaps it is best to only add that music has always played a major role in who I am, from casual listener, to instrumental student, to DJ…  Music has defined many of the milestones of my revolutions around the sun.

Adulting is hard and parenting is harder and that’s okay because I’m occasionally given moments of such joy that I know all the struggles are worthwhile.  Singing in the car with the little prince was one of those moments.  I can’t wait to do that again.  I can’t wait to see what the next moment will be too.

The song ended and I turned in my seat to say over my shoulder, my voice catching a bit in my throat and my eyes straining to hold back the tears while a smile lit my face, “I love you, kiddo.”

“Why?”

Adulting is hard.

Parenting is harder.

Versus: Season 2 Episode 4

The Jester and his First Knight once again face off in the virtual arena. Please head on over and cast your votes. Let us know who you think would win!

33 Grams of Blog

It’s the Versus that you’ve all been waiting for! It’s the long anticipated rematch between Matticus and I!

Well, I’m sure at least one of you were anxiously awaiting it anyway.

The first order of business, however, is declaring the winner of the previous Versus post. In Episode 3, I asked you to vote for which of the three Summers brothers was the most badass. Once again, the results didn’t go for who I voted for. You said that Gabriel, or Vulcan as he’s more widely known, was that answer. It’s hard to argue that. After all, he did conquer the Shi’ar Empire. In defense of Alex (Havok), who I voted for, in the War of the Kings storyline, Havok was able to absorb the energy of an entire star and use it to hurt Vulcan pretty badly. Just as Havok was about to put him down for good…

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The Note I Almost Wrote

It has been more than 30 years since my attempt. It is misconception that a suicide requires a note. I had one written in my mind. It has stayed with me along with many of the prevailing feelings. The triggering beast lingers with a glance or (un)spoken word. Here it is.

Dear Daddy, Mom and (Sis),

Thank you all for deciding to be gone today. When you return, I will be gone. My body will be here and for that, I apologize. The mess that I am will be gone.

I don’t want to write this because if I fail, just add it to the list.

You may have noticed that ‘A’ doesn’t come around much. I told her to stay the fuck away.

Daddy, I said horrible words to you…they were awful enough to make you put hands on me. The idea was to make you believe sis was better. I think to an extent it worked. Our relationship changed in the weeks after that.

If I fail I will have to accept accountability.

I am nothing but a fuck up. If it is not fucked up and I touch it, it will die (aka I will have fucked it up).

You all don’t need that.

I love you and I do apologize.

Jaded.

8 years

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Dearest Queen,

Eight years ago, our vows promised adventure, and oh the adventures we have had.

Some have changed over the years… The daily dance drama has been substituted with the poop story of the day – two kids and two fur babies, and all of them full of shenanigans, and that’s a lot of poop.

Some have not changed… Mammoth season passes – and all the fun and tranquility the mountain provides time after time after time, recharging our spirits and adding stories to our shared life.

Our home has been updated and upgraded while remaining the same reliable, comfortable bedrock for our family. That family has grown with the addition of kitties and children, in that order. We’ve had some misunderstandings. We’ve had some disappointments. We’ve had some amazing triumphs. We’ve had some perfect moments.

We’ve faced it all side by side. And we’ve made it through, together. We make a great team.

I am still sad every morning when I have to leave you to go to work. I am still thrilled when I see you next, no matter the circumstances. You make me feel safe. You make me feel whole. I don’t see that ever changing.

I wouldn’t have it any other way. I can’t imagine it any other way.

I know that regardless of what adventures come our way next, we will navigate them successfully. The good, we will fully enjoy. The bad, we will survive and come through with laughter. These are truths of who we are.

I love you,

Matt