...What's that?

My 13 month old daughter has been babbling for 7 months now, will say the occasional Mama and Dada here and there. My wife and I are starting to wonder if she won't be speaking for awhile... until just now.

Straight after her nap, she waddles down the hall and onto my wife's lap. She's just happy to be about and then she glances down at the Zaxby's plate on the coffee table. It's her favorite, french fries.

"What's that?" she sleepily whispers.

My wife and I gasp. A coherent sentence in proper context. We share a complex mixture of pride and surprise as our daughter eagerly awaits an answer.

"It's your favorite, baby!" my wife exclaims while attempting to hold composure.

It was literally a moment ago, but it's already a core memory and worth stopping to note the small parental victory.

... And then a decade went by...

It's been 10 years since my last post. A lot has happened on the journey...

In no particular order:  I got married, had 3 kids, retired the Altima, bought a Sentra, retired the Sentra, bought a Rogue, painted walls, broke a CV axle, planned to move but never did, assembled furniture, assembled toys, assembled puzzles, assembled playgrounds, went to playgrounds, did yoga, bought stuff, put away stuff, tossed out stuff, moved furniture, doom scrolled the pandemic, enjoyed the lockdowns, dragged Chelsea to get vaccine, built a career in law, left my law career, buried my Mom, graduated college, began an IT career, changed insurance companies, lost touch with friends, made new friends to lose touch with, changed wallets, conducted interviews, battled depression, switched to Android, doom scrolled the war in Ukraine, expanded my music library, expanded my game library, bought a couple of books, got a dog, got a cat, ate pie, lost weight, gained weight, quit social media, grew some gray hairs, lost hair in spots, got some Reddit karma, got really into crosswords... I'm sure I left some stuff out, but overall life just... went on.

I started this blog to try and document my life as it was happening. A type of "web log," if you will. Sure, most of it, if not all of it... okay, all of it is cringe. But those snapshots of my day-to-day were my emotions painted out for the world to see in glorious simplified English. They were real. They were the mental building blocks of how I got to where I am now.

And then I stopped writing.

I didn't want to share anymore.

I internalized all of it.

Because at the end of the day I realized, "Nobody really gives a shit."

Including myself.

I was tired of dishing out the same old, hum drum, woe is me dribble that I had been spouting out from my finger tips for the last decade before. It was a negative re-enforcing loop that needed to be broken. So I broke it.

That's not to say I don't have drafts laying under the carpet for no one to see. I had the heavy, verge of mental crisis pop-offs scattered about... but so does everyone. And I dealt with mine the best I could without releasing that negativity out like a teenage cry for help. After penning angst to paper, I worked through it.

So why now? Why post again after all these years?

Bella, my wife's cat, made me do it.

See, today was a particularly hard day. Woke up late. Had the busiest day I've ever had at the office. Forgot to put on deodorant. Came home, fought a little bit with my oldest son. Wife not feeling well again. Five-year-old not listening. Baby coughing. In-laws wasting money and stirring up avoidable drama. Just an overall hard 5 out of 10.

When everyone went to bed and I was putting away the kids' iPads, Bella jumped beside me on the couch and snuggled. I want to say it's been a really long time since she's done that with me. I was not expecting this kind of attention from her; she's nick named "Demon Cat" for a reason. The scenario as a whole took me aback. I just stopped what I was doing to pet her for half an hour before working on the rest of my nightly chores.

Two weeks ago, on a Thursday, I was outside of work just enjoying the cool spring breeze and watching the Spanish moss sway northward. I thought about writing about it. The Saturday after that I wanted to talk about my daughter just watching our lemongrass do the same swaying with the pure amazement that only babies have. Then there was the following Monday with my second son beaming his smile at me in the dark. I was proud to be a father. Bella tonight was final straw. It was the simple wins in life like this that pulled me through life. A smile, a gesture, a funny situation, a fortunate circumstance. These are the things worth noting. So thanks, Bella, for reminding me to write. Also, no thanks for biting the shit out of my hand...

So here I am again. Posts will definitely not be this long, but I do want to jot down the little things. Here's to another decade on the masked transit of life.

.logicless.

I'm a pretty smart guy and a bit of a mentalist. I'm well versed in many philosophies. I weigh consequences before making actions, never planning to fail(read: control freak). I can read body language and subliminal messages and put together an understanding of your current state of mind without you talking to me directly.

So why is it that I can't seem to follow my own logic? I've become my own worst enemy. All the mental balance and forethought that I've prided myself on is failing me. I've become a bit of a bitch to my own emotions.

A major part of my mental stability is identifying the aspects of my life I can and cannot control. My own thought process should be within the parameters of control. Unfortunately, it is not. I find myself becoming unapproachable and short-tempered. These are reactive responses to deep seeded sadness. Through introspection, I know the cause and it is something I cannot control.

Logically, I know the answer; but no matter how many times I repeat it in my head, I find myself with pause, irking at the pain residing in my chest. I now battle a reoccurring anxiety and the gaping holes in my mental palisade; restless nightmares, second guessing, and over-thinking.

"Why? Why can I not come to terms with something so plain as day?"

My outside view is sound. My inside view is wrecked. I drink, even as I write this, just to numb the ridiculousness that's become my emotional standpoint. I blare the music that became the stepping stones of my patience, trying to catch a glimpse of what I've become as opposed to what I used to be.

Though, despite this inner rage, I have an understanding of where it stems from; my best friend... a connection... and the afterthoughts of nights gone by. At least I have that to work with...

.chips.

Chiptunes. It's a subgenre of techno that I've recently delved into. It's centers around 8 and 16-bit sounds; the kinds that you would hear from the video games of the 20th century. And that exactly why I've fallen so hard for this style of music.

I'm at a point in my life where there is no more time for reflection. It's only forward from here out. There was another time when I was in that mentality. It was when I was younger, playing these games. Whenever I hear that 130+ bpm with thumping bloops and bleeps, it changes my whole mind state.

A lot has happened over my thirty years. I've seen some shit. I've done a few things I wish I had done differently. It only gets weirder from here on out. I would like to approach the incoming nonsense with an open heart and an indelible constitution. That can only be achieved with innocent optimism... the kind of optimism you can only find in your youth when you have the world before you.

So, armed to the teeth with my arm cannon, spread gun, boomerang, ultima weapon, and a handful of mushrooms, I'm ready to take on the next chapters of life.

.muy.

dearest ben,

tonight, i stood over where you left us. right there on 1st N and 1st. i stood there thinking how much i missed you. the moon shined off the water just as it did 12 years ago when we sat together with joseph. i stared at it and thought about how much of an inspiration you were to me. do you know i still use the nickname you gave to me in college? it's both my penance and to remember you by.

they say you die twice. once when you leave and another when you're no longer remembered. i will never let that happen by using this moniker. you mean more to me than i will ever be able to show, but somehow i think you know... i've shared my story recently and it's opened up these old wounds...

ben, if you can hear me; i miss you, homie. you were the fire that drove me to become the person i am today. if you were here, i know it would be you i would be leaning on at this new year and not semi-acquaintances. please allow me a partiality of your strength and confidence to pursue the happiness that we envisioned together. i hope one day to be as resilient as you were, but until then i need a helping hand. things have not been so well with me. i've took up the drink, and you know i don't do that, but it's the only release i can come up with without actually giving up. that's how much things have roughened up this year...

i'm ready to move on to the next chapter. 2013 will be that moment; whether i force the issue or not. i know that you're looking out for me, david, jeremy and your family. i can tell by the way things are going for them. but now it's my turn. you need to lend me a hand. dude, i know you got pull up there. you're too much of a player not to... son, i'm serious. get whoever it is that oversees my file and get him or her to pencil in some stuff worthy of a highlight reel, because i'm just about at my wit's end here... you owe me! remember that time i bailed you out of getting kicked out? or when that time you were devastated when tina broke up with you.. or that one time you had sex IN MY BED and nutted all over the sheets and refused to clean it while i was out of town?! yeah... that's right... i know about that shit...

so, yeah, throw me a bone... i could use one...

here's to 2013 not being as lame as last year...
-muy