Strawberries.

This blog post is about what a pasty, no-tan, white guy I have become.  No joke.  I need to go tanning in a major way.  

I think what bothers me the most about it is the fact that I used to be tan.....once upon a time.  Before I moved to Utah, I spent a lot of time outside playing football and at the beach surfing and boogie-boarding.  I was your typical blue eyed, blonde haired California surfer kid.  Then I moved to Utah, and things changed.  I swear it was the Utah sun that did it to me.  Suddenly, my complexion decided that it would just take after the Irish and Danish side of my genes.  Forget the French or Indian side.  Who needs a tan?  Not this guy.  Now, I've kind of turned into a giant strawberry.  That is the only way I can describe it.  My hair has turned more of a strawberry blondish color, and my complexion is definitely that of a strawberry as well.  And let's not even talk about my beard.  It's almost completely red.  If I am in the sun, I don't tan.  I just burn, and turn a darker shade of strawberry.  Temporarily of course, and then I go back to my normal pasty and strawberry self. 

Perhaps I should get a tanning pass.  I've done that before, but don't recall having much luck.  Perhaps I should just accept my pasty skin and flaunt it.  Perhaps I should even learn to love the new nickname a couple friends have given me.  Shortcakes.  That's not so bad, is it? 

No Politics.

I have avoided saying much of anything about what happened in Connecticut a few days ago for a reason.  Everybody seems to have an opinion about it.  A lot of people just seem to want to cause contention and spark debates.  Arguments.  Hear my argument.  Shock and awe.   The more I've kept it to myself, the more it has bothered me though.  I don't think anyone on this planet can fathom the reality of what has just happened.  Perhaps only those who have just lost their children, or Sisters, Wives, and Mothers.  Perhaps those who just lost their son and Brother.  I think that this is something that everyone needs to talk about and get a grip on.  It IS reality, and this really did just happen.  People need to heal, and we all need to learn how we can help to prevent anything like this from happening ever again, because history has shown us now that it will continue.

20 sweet and innocent little children ages 6 & 7 were just murdered.  Shot.  Shot multiple times while they were at school.  This kind of thing has happened before at High Schools, on the streets, and even Jr. High Schools.  Who could have possibly predicted this?  20 small little kids and 5 of their teachers and faculty at the Elementary School, and let's not forget the killers Mother.  Little is known about Adam Lanza's motives for this heinous act.  What we do know is that apparently he had a form or Autism, was quiet and mostly kept to himself, and was a genius.  And no one ever suspected that he could be capable of such an act. 

The news of what occurred on Friday, December 14th, 2012, literally made me sick to my stomach.  I cried.  I wept when I heard and read the news of what happened that day.  I wept for the families who lost their loved ones.  I wept for the survivors.  I wept for the first responders who had to see such a horrific scene in person. 

People.  I am NOT a dude that cries.  I am, however, a Father.  My Preslie is 5 years old, and about the same age as the children who were gunned down in their classrooms.  All I could see was my sweet little Angels face as I scrolled through the pictures of the victims.  That could have just as easily been her.  Those parents and families will never see their babies grow up, or even smile again.  And they had no idea.  No idea on that morning that they were saying goodbye for the last time as they dropped them off to school.  No idea as their wives left for work that morning, that it would be the last time.  The end. 

Friday was the first time that Preslie has seen me cry.  I didn't have the heart to tell my 5 year old about the horror that had just occurred.  I don't want her to know about it.  I don't want her to be afraid, and lose her innocence. 

It has been on my mind now ever since.  What is the last thing I said to Preslie when I dropped her off?  What if that was the last time I ever saw her again?  What if something happened to her, completely out of my control, and I did not get to hug her or kiss her or be with her again?  Did I tell her that I love her enough?  Did I show her enough?  Does she know?  She is my world, and I don't think I could make it without her.  I am so deeply saddened for the parents who have lost their little Angels.  I can't imagine the heartache and pain they are feeling right now.  I just hope that they know that the world is feeling it with them right now, and that they are not alone.  If anything, this tragedy has shown that the world is not all bad.  There is good among us.  There are monsters who are capable or horrific things too, but they will never be the majority.  If anything, I have seen the world come together with love and compassion for those in need.  Not everyone, of course.  But by far the majority.  I hope that we can continue to work together and make something meaningful out of this.  Hug our children a bit tighter every day, and not forget why. 

I'm not writing this so that it can be shared and debated.  These are my thoughts and opinions.  I think everyone needs to talk about this though, and work through it.  One way or another. 

Workout. Goals. Week 1.

I've got some big goals and ambitions.  Physically, I have had a rough year or two.  I've been pretty sick a few times, had two surgeries, and hit my all time fattest as well.  The worst of it was probably the back surgery.  That one really slowed me down for a bit.  Not only did it hinder my motivation to go to the gym before the surgery, it also removed my ability to go for awhile thereafter.  Weight aside, I went through a period earlier this summer where I felt more out of shape than ever before in my life.  I had never been that soft before.  Flabby.  I didn't like it.  

After I got back from my trip to Ireland in June, I started to slowly make my way back into the gym.  It has been a pretty slow process, because I have to be very careful since the surgery on my back.  I had basically blown out my L2 disk in my lower back, and the little disk material that was left was effectively dead.  The Dr. had wanted to do a Spinal Fusion, but decided against it because I am still relatively young.  He said that eventually I will have to get that done, but they would rather not do it right now.  Because of this higher risk, I need to be especially careful with my back and avoid herniating that disk again. 

At the peak of my flabbiness, I weighted about 220 lbs.  I could barely bench 125 lbs, and had gone up to a 38" waist.  If I tried to do any cardio, I would break into a dripping sweat after about 10-15 minutes.  Gross. 

Thanks to a severely hardened sense of determination, things have changed.  I also owe a lot to a couple of my amazing friends who have helped to motivate me and joined me in the gym.  Randy and Ikaika, you guys are my boys!  Thank you!  I wouldn't go as far as to say that I am content with where I am at now, as I still have a ways to go before I reach my goals.  However, it is important to look back at the progress we make sometimes and recognize how far we've come. 

Currently,  I weigh about 205 lbs.  My last bench was 225 lbs.  I'm back down to a 34" waist.  I now include at least 30-45 minutes of cardio with each workout, and am hardly breaking a sweat anymore.  The weight isn't really important to me, because I understand that muscle weighs more than fat, so I am likely to put on a little more weight as I increase my muscle tone.  I feel good.  That is the most important part. 

My cardio health is finally doing a lot better.  My next big goal is to really strengthen my core.  This is going to be pretty tough for me.  Not only do I hate doing core work, it is also probably the hardest for me to work, because of my back.  A couple of months ago, I bought this really good Core Workout book.  Now I just need to use it.  I'd like to get my core back in shape, and finally have that 6 pack again.  My last goal is to get my bench up a little bit more.  Before I started going to school, my max bench was 310 lbs.  That seems so far off now.  I'm not sure that I'll ever quite get back to there, but I do want to get my max bench back up to at least 275 lbs.  Why?  Just because. 

So next step, how do I get there?  For the most part, I've been pretty consistent with making it to the gym 2 times a week.  I need to dial that up to 3 times a week now.  I am going to break my routines down as follows:

Day 1:   Chest & Back & Cardio
Day 2:   Cardio & Arms & Core
Day 3:   Shoulders & Legs & Core

Nutritionally, I have just a few basic goals for improvement.  First off, I need to drink less.  I have mostly cut hard liquor out completely for now.  I'm trying to drink more water every day.  I also have way too much salt in my diet, so I'm trying to cut back on that as well.  I have a daily vitamin I'm taking now, along with getting more protein in.  

I would like to reach these goals by next summer.  I know it's going to be a lot of hard work,  but I am determined.  With the early onset of the snow this weekend, I've been reminded that I'll be indoors a lot for the next 4-5 months.  I've never been a big skier, and still have never been snowboarding either.  Outside of work, you will likely find me one of 2 places.  Out and about with Preslie when I have her, or at the gym.  Tomorrow is week 1 of my new resolve and new routines.  Time to get fit.

Simple Truths

People do get lonely.  Especially when they are deprived of being with the ones they love. 

For me, this was a simple truth that took a long time to understand.  I didn't really understand this, until my Grandma passed away.  I remember so much about how she used to be.  When I was little, we would go to visit Grandma Taylor's house, and she was just so full of love.  She had an amazing way of making you feel like you were wrapped in it the moment you stepped into the room with her.  She loved all children, and was just a great Mother in every sense of the word. 

Years before she died, she had a stroke.  The stroke changed things pretty drastically.  She lost the use of one side of her body, had trouble with speech, and also getting around after that.  She had to be shuttled around in a wheelchair, and it was not easy for her to get around after that.  Over time as she got older, her physical health seemed to deteriorate bit by bit.  The hardest part for me was seeing her this way.  You could look at her, and she would make eye contact and you could tell she was still the same Grandma, but she was frustrated.  Frustrated with her body that no longer worked the way it used to, or even cooperated to perform basic tasks anymore.  Through it all, my Grandpa was there taking care of her.  He was completed devoted to her and took care of her every need.  Quite a few years passed, and then about 2 years ago she finally passed away.  I got a phone call from my Mom, who had been there taking care of her since my little Sister Angela had died in 2006, and she let me know that Grandma had just passed.  I didn't live that far away at the time, so I rushed right over there.  For some reason, I guess I didn't expect that she would still be there, and that the funeral home would have already been there.  That was my first time being around a body after someone had passed right away.  To be honest, it kinda weirded me out a bit.  Why?  I have no idea.  I sat down by her in her room and held her hand for a bit, then went out and joined my Aunt Lenore in the living room once the funeral people arrived to take her away. 

Now let me just say that even though this was an incredibly emotional and sad time for me, I am just not a cryer.  I very rarely cry for any reason.  Another one of my many oddities I suppose. 

However, as the gentlemen were starting to wheel my Grandma out of the house, I remember hearing my Grandpa say, "Wait!  I need to give my Sweetheart a kiss goodbye."  For some reason, that did it for me.  My Grandpa is one of the best men I have ever known.  Never said a single curse word his entire life.  Not even Damn.  Always treated his kids with love and my Grandma was always his Sweetheart.  I totally cried it out for that one.  He just seemed so lost after she passed.  It made so incredibly sad to see him that way.  After that I just didn't know what to do.  I started looking for things to do around the house, and ended up going on the roof to clean out his gutters.

Now here is where the simple truth comes in.  Even though my Grandma did not pass away until the summer of 2010, in a lot of ways, she had not been his companion for quite some time.  Their companionship had not been the same in the later years after her stroke.  I can only imagine how hard this must have been for both of them.  Even though he took care of her through the end, I can imagine how lonely he must have become.  Especially once she passed.  This is why it did not surprise me in the least that he "got out there" and started seeing an old girlfriend again.  He desired that companionship.  He was lonely.  I have never for a second felt that he was dishonoring my Grandma's memory in doing so either.  The sad thing is, I imagine that it did hurt a few of my other Family members feelings though.  All in all, I want my Grandpa to be happy, and understand his desire for companionship.  I understand that some people just don't get that.  Some people are die hard romantics at heart, and believe that once a loved one passes away, maybe they should live in solitude so as to honor the memory of that loved one.  I get that.  Is it easier for men to find companionship after a loved one has passed as opposed to a woman?  Perhaps.  I just know it doesn't diminish their love.  What is so strange about my 80 year old Grandpa acting like a teenager again, and wanting to cuddle up on his couch with another Grandma lady? 

After all, people do get lonely.  Especially when they are deprived of being with the ones they love. 

Sleep to dream.

When was the last time you had a vivid dream?  A dream that you remembered after you woke up.  The kind of dream that you remembered days later. 

The majority of the time, I do not dream.  I imagine that I do have dreams, but nothing that I ever remember.  I typically go to sleep, then wake up in the morning, with no recollection of what occurred in between. 

So the other day, I woke up from this dream that was so realistic and vivid that it took me a little bit to figure out that I had been dreaming and was now awake.  In the dream, a couple of days had passed too.  I was waking up in the dream, and then going about my day as usual.  Only it wasn't my life.  I had a wife, who I apparently knew but did not recognize her face.  I also had 2 more kids.  Preslie was there, but she was a couple years older, and I had 2 more kids.  One was a boy who was toddler age, and the third was just a baby, but I don't remember if it was a boy or a girl.  I never quite saw that ones face.  In the dream, I had just woke up on a weekend, and had a bunch of yard work to do.  Preslie and the little Boy were helping me, while my wife was inside with the baby.  Before too long , it was getting hot, so we decided to go to the beach.  Apparently we lived by the beach. 

At the beach, my wife and I were teaching Preslie and the little Boy how to boogie board.  Everyone was having so much fun, but then I noticed it wasn't sunny anymore.  I started getting worried about how grey the sky looked, because apparently that meant a tidal wave was coming.  Then we left the beach, and Preslie was pretty sad about it, and cried the whole way home.  Since she was crying, the baby started crying.  I remember it being a really long car drive home.  Finally, we got home and it was time for bed.  I read all of the kids a bedtime story, tucked them into bed, and then snuggled with them until we all fell asleep.  For some reason, the kids all slept in one big giant bed.  I remember being really tired, but was so happy snuggling up with my kids and seeing their sweet little faces. 

Eventually, I woke up, but I was back in my bed.  It was Sunday morning, and Preslie was sprawled across my bed, snoring away.  When I first woke up, I started looking for my little Boy, and was worried that he had fallen off the side of the bed since I didn't see him.  Then I realized I had just been dreaming.  I of course was happy to see Preslie, but was a bit sad and disappointed.  It's weird how dreams can do that to you.  In a dream, you aren't just caught in the moment of what is happening right then and there.  It can almost seem that there is a back story, and a history that happened prior to that moment.  As if you've lived another life.  Kinda weird.  Makes me feel like I'm missing something.  I never imagined that I would only have one kid, or that I'd get divorced for that matter.  I always imagined I would have at least 3-4 kids of my own, and I've always kinda felt like there was supposed to be a boy in there somewhere.  Now I'm single, and Preslie is 5.  She'll be 6 years old next year.  I can't even imagine starting over.  Getting married again...having more kids, and changing diapers again seems crazy.  Perhaps I've lost my chance.   Perhaps things were supposed to be different, but choices and fate have dealt me a new hand.  I haven't decided if that is a good thing or not.  It's hard not to feel like something is missing in my life.

Once upon a time....

Today is Burklie's 12th birthday.  Earlier I was thinking about her and wondering how she is doing.  I don't get to see her very much anymore, and it makes me sad.  I can't believe that she is 12 already.  When I first met Burklie, she was only 3 years old.  She had really short hair, and the cutest little elf ears I had ever seen.  I'll never forget her tiny little voice, and how clearly she spoke.  She was always such an intelligent girl.  Amazing at memory games too.  She could play the memory card game and would win every time.

Burklie will always hold a really special place in my heart, because she was the first of Mandie's girls that I really got attached to.  I will always love all of them, and they will each hold a unique place in my heart forever.  Burklie loved to be with me, and always wanted to be close to me.  She would ask to come with me everywhere, even just quick trips to the store.  She absolutely melted my heart.  Rylie had just turned a year old, and Kalie was 9 years old when I started dating Mandie.  Rylie was just a baby, and was always easy to love.  Kalie was more shy, quiet, and guarded.  As such, she was slower to ever really accept me into her life.  Burklie on the other hand, had nothing but love for me right from the beginning.

She is such a sensitive little girl.  Always has been.  Admittedly, I struggled at times with Burklie the most as well.  If I even looked at wrong, she would burst into tears and it would seemingly break her little heart.  As she grew older, I could see more and more similarities between her and her Mother.  I had a really hard time with this, as they weren't necessarily my favorite personality traits.  To be completely honest, she would kind of drive me nuts some times.  She was always so dramatic.  On the girls birthdays, I would get them flowers.  Burklie always enjoyed this the most.  She loved the attention.  I would also try to take all the girls on individual Daddy-Daughter dates when I could.  I usually needed to take Burklie first, because she would cry and cry if she thought she was being left out.

When Burklie turned 8 years old, we lived in Washington, and she decided that she wanted me to Baptize her.  That was an enormous honor, and it really meant a lot to me.  I was excited to be worthy, and have that opportunity.  I made sure to get her Father's permission, as I felt it was his right to do this.  He ended up doing the confirmation portion, and I did the Baptism.  The next year we moved back to Utah, and moved into my in-laws place.  That was a pretty rough year on everyone.  Mandie and I separated 2 times during that year, and eventually got divorced.  It was especially rough on all of the girls.  I had been their Dad for 6+ years, and then suddenly I wasn't anymore.  When we separated the second time, it stuck.  Eventually Mandie would file for divorce, and cut me off from the girls completely. Our divorce took close to a year, and was pretty ugly.  It was final in March of 2011.  Since then Mandie has remarried, and only occasionally now do I get to see any of the girls.  I see Preslie, obviously, as it is my legal right to do so.  But unfortunately, I do not have the legal right to my other girls.

Today Burklie is 12 years old.  She is starting to grow into a young woman.  She likes to listen to The Used and Neon Trees as well.  She likes boys.  She has grown up a lot in the past couple of years, and I haven't been there for it.  I really hate that.  I miss her and her sisters so much, and hope they all remember me and the part I shared of their lives.  I have high hopes for Burklie, and worry about her often.  I hope her memory serves her well, and that she remembers how important and loved she is.  She will always be my sweet little Bundle Face.

Don't act like you aren't impressed...

So last night I had a bit of a "double-wide" experience.  It was definitely kind of ghetto, and the more I have thought about it today, the more I feel like I should feel embarrassed.  I don't though.  I kind of think it's funny.  Maybe that is what makes me think it was a "double-wide" experience. 

After I got off work yesterday, I made a quick trip to the store.  I came home, emptied my dishwasher, then threw another load of dishes in there again.  After that, I decided I would get some work done on my blog.  It was kind of warm in my apartment so I thought, what the hell, who needs clothes?  I live alone.  My blinds are shut.  Naked Tuesday it is!  Well, just boxer briefs, because that would be weird.  I turned my TV on, at the normal volume level, and started typing away.  About an hour later, I got hungry, so I ordered some Papa Johns and had it delivered.  It was a great bachelor dinner.  Papa Johns garlic & Parmesan bread sticks, and some nice cold Blue Moons!  I was relaxed, and it was a nice and quiet night.  Or so it seemed....

Suddenly, I heard a really soft knock at my door.  I was a bit surprised, because it was pretty late.  About 11:40pm to be exact.  I think I was about 3-4 adult beverages in at that point.  I jumped up, and went downstairs to the front door.  When I opened the door, it revealed 2 Police Officers.  Dude Police Officers to be exact.  I slowly started to ask them, "Hellllllloooo, what can I do for you?" 

Police Dude #1, "We got a call that there was a party going on.  Complaint about loud music, or perhaps a TV."

Me, "Right......I don't have any music on, just my TV.  I didn't think it was too loud..."

Police Dude #2, "Yeah, we've been standing outside your apartment for about 5 minutes or so before we knocked, and couldn't hear a thing."

Me, "I haven't touched the volume since I turned it on about 3 hours ago either.  You're welcome to come in and see if it seems to loud from inside if you'd like."

Police Dude #1 looked at me a little funny, then stepped past me into the entry way.  He stood there for about 15 seconds and listened, and then said, "I can barely hear your TV at all right now.  How stupid.  Doesn't seem like a problem to me."  Then he stepped back out. 

Police Dude #2 said he needed to get some basic information from me.  He asked me if I lived here, my name, date of birth, and my phone #. 

It was right at that moment, that I realized I was standing there on my porch, wearing nothing but my underwear, probably with gross garlic / adult beverage breathe, and I was giving my phone # to this Police Dude.  I laughed, then told him my number.  He asked what was so funny, so I told him, "This would probably make a pretty good COPS episode..ha ha ha."  They kind of laughed, then told me to enjoy the rest of my night, and gave me a funny look and left. 

Good times.

Why would she do that??

Since I told the story about "Stuart's" little foot problem, I feel like I have to tell another story about him.  In case you missed my last post, "Stuart" was the special little guy that used to work on the night crew at the tool store up in SLC.  I don't remember his real name, so we're just going to call him Stuart.  Stuart was special.  He wasn't quite all there, and had obtained the job under circumstances as such that he couldn't just be fired like a normal employee either.  Stuart was brutally honest, and loved to talk.  Worse yet, he had this really high pitched, soft, child-like voice.  Surprisingly enough, Stuart was married, and he also had like 4 kids.  All of which were relatively normal.  His kids looked almost exactly like him, but were very smart and high-functioning from what I understand.

One night, Stuart came into work and was acting a little peculiar.   Normally, he was fairly social.  This evening, however, he was definitely keeping to himself, and had an odd, perhaps confused, and concerned look on his face while he worked.  Several of the other guys on the night crew approached him, and asked him how he was doing, but he didn't seem to want to talk about it.  Finally, after a couple of the guys had approached me with their concerns about him behavior, I decided that I should check on him.  I walked up to him as he was sweeping the end section of the warehouse, and asked him what was troubling him tonight. 

He replied, "Well........I had a little bit of an.........uh......episode with the wife the other day."

A few of the other guys approached, and asked the question that I really didn't want to know, "What kind of an episode Stuart?" 

Now, you have to imagine the concern on Stuart's little face as he told us his story.  He was completely serious, and genuinely confused, which only made this worse.

"Well, so my wife and I were........uh.......you know.  Having relations.  Everything was going as usual, and I was getting closer to being done.  If you know what I mean."

The guys were enjoying his story far more than they should, and egged him on.  "So that sounds cool Stuart.  What's so bad about that?"

This is where Stuart's expression became even more concerned and puzzled.  He continued, "Well, right as I was about to finish, she stuck her finger.................."

Stuart looked down ashamed at the floor.

".........right in my butt hole."

Stuart looked up from the floor with the most serious look on his face, his big goofy eyeballs focused right on me, and he stumbled, "Why would she do that?"

I completely lost it.  I was laughing so hard, I couldn't breathe.  It was terrible.  Probably one of my worst moments ever as a human being.  We told him that she probably just read about it in a magazine, and not to worry about it.  I could never look at him the same again after that.

Something's wrong with his foot.....

Today I was reminded of a specific event that happened when I used to work for a certain tool store company in Salt Lake City.  At the time I was actually living in Roy, but was helping out long term at the store location in SLC.  Occasionally, I had the distinct pleasure of managing the night crew.  Those were some good times.

There was a particularly odd fellow that worked the night crew.  He was......well he was kind of special.  Luckily, I don't remember his name, so we'll just call him Stuart.  Now the thing about Stuart, is that he was a really little guy.  If you didn't know better, you'd swear that he was a dwarf, but he wasn't quite there.  He wasn't quite there in more ways than one.  He had dark hair, was kind of portly, had really thick glasses that made his eyeballs look huge, and he had really stubby fingers.  For some reason, his stubby little fingers always caught my attention, probably because he swung his arms in a quick, straight, jerking motion as he walked.  I'll probably go to hell for laughing as I'm writing this story, but....I can't help it.

So Stuart had a special job at the tool store, and that was basically walking around and sweeping the store and the warehouse.  He always had a lot to say, and was really animated about his stories every night.  He really was quite entertaining.  One day, we realized Stuart wasn't there, and the next night he came in wearing this odd cast and walked with a short and stubby little limp.  Being a concerned manager, I asked him what had happened to his foot.  This is what he told me.

"Seems that I caught me a nasty little infection on my foot.  My foot was itching real bad, and had a bit of a rash, so I went to the Doctor to get it checked out.  Turns out that I got it from my shower."

I was a little confused, so I asked him, "Do you have a fungus or something in your shower?"

 This is where he explained that sometimes, when he is showering, and he has to go, he just does.  Only he wasn't talking about the occasional tinkle.  He was talking Numero Dos.  The big number two.  He would just take a dump, and then stomp it down the drain with his foot.  Turns out that isn't the best idea, as he got some crazy infection in his foot from it.  Who would have imagined that? 

I was horrified.  True story.

Prayer and faith.

I would really love to rant and complain right now about a few things, but I won't.  I don't think that anyone wants to listen to someone bitch and moan about how hard their life is.  Who's life isn't hard?  Who doesn't struggle, or experience hard times?  Who hasn't been down in the dumps occasionally?  Each of us experience things from a completely unique perspective, as no two peoples lives are identical.  I laugh whenever I hear someone say, "I know exactly what you're going through.."  How could you?  No, really?  You've been through everything that I've been through, and had every single experience as me?  That is just plain stupid.

One of my friends recently asked for her friends to pray for her father who isn't doing too well.  It seems that he is on his way out, and she asked if anyone could pray for him and her family to find comfort during this hard time.  I can only imagine how hard this must be for her and her family, and quickly volunteered to keep them in my prayers.

What prayers?

I honestly cannot even remember the last time that I prayed.  I stopped praying sometime during my divorce.  I didn't really feel like God was listening.  That being said, how can I really say that I will pray for someone else, when I don't really do it for myself anymore?  When I'm not convinced it will do any good?  Is it pride that has kept me from doing so?  Is it just plain old stubbornness?  I guess it depends on who you ask.  If you ask my parents, they will say a little of both.

Something that I have always struggled with is faith.  In matters of the church, I have always struggled with tithing.  It is a really hard thing for me to have to ask anyone else for help.  I don't want to "have faith" that things will work out.  I want to know.  I want to be sure.  I need to be able to count on things happening.  Reliability, security, facts, routine.  These are things that I understand and prefer.  I understand that some people need hope to get by.  I need to know things will work out because I worked to make it happen.  Again, some of these things may come down to pride.  Another example, is having my back get better and not give me grief.  Praying for this to happen is not something that I am good at.  Exercising, avoiding things that will strain it, and a hot pad on occasion are my tools for making that happen.  I don't want to just close my eyes, and hope that it will get better.  I want to exercise and work to strengthen my back so that I don't have more problems in the future.

I am not saying this to diminish anyone else that may rely on prayer.  And I am especially not saying this to belittle my friend who asked this recently.  I think my point is more that I wish there was something more that I could do to help.  I would do just about anything for my friends and family, even pray for them if asked.  I don't understand why anyone should have to suffer, especially in their later years.  It is such a strain on the family and loved ones who are forced to watch the people they love most deteriorate.  What does this accomplish?  What does this help us learn?  These are questions that I struggle with.  While I haven't had to experience this too directly with my parents, or my children, I have had to watch other family members deteriorate slowly over time, and it sucks.  As much as I loved them, I wanted to get away from them.  I didn't want to watch them suffer.  I suppose that in that way I truly let them down, and worse yet, when they may have needed me around the most.  I have a great deal of respect for people who take on this great responsibility.  This is one of the many reasons why I respect this friend so much.

Nevertheless, I found myself actually getting down on my knees to pray this weekend.  It was not an easy thing for me to do, but I made a gave my word.  I've made a lot of promises over the years.   Some are harder to keep than others.  Some promises you make are actually broken by those closest to you.  I am definitely far from perfect, but I am trying to improve and better myself.  I get knocked down, but I get up again.

Denied.

Access denied.  You shall not pass.  This is not the droid you were looking for.  April Fools.  Psych!  Return to sender.  No such address. 

abjure, abnegate, ban, begrudge, call on, contradict, contravene, controvert, curb, disacknowledge, disallow, disavow, disbelieve, discard, disclaim, discredit, disown, disprove, doubt, enjoin from, eschew, exclude, forbid, forgo, forsake, gainsay, hold back, keep back, negate, negative, not buy, nullify, oppose, rebuff, rebut, recant, refuse, refute, reject, repudiate, restrain, revoke, sacrifice, say no to, spurn, taboo, take exception to, turn down, turn thumbs down, veto, withhold.

How did this happen?

It seems that I've stirred the pot.  An interest of sorts has developed in a most unexpected way.  The kind of interest that you find yourself looking forward to throughout the day.  Where even a simple text can make you smile.  I kind of feel like I'm in High School all over again, but in the good way.  If there is such a thing.  At this point, it is nothing more than a friendship.  Innocent.  And I'm OK with that.  Let it be what it is. 

There are unique complications.  Despite any of it, I am having fun.  I don't think that I am the only one, either. 

Open your eyes and see.

Recently, I've been reminded again about the importance of appreciating what I have.  I have been given a lot, and therefor have a lot of reason to be grateful.  I am finding a lot of reasons to be happy, and it's important to recognize that.  So many of us get caught up in a struggle with the big picture, and our long term goals and wants, that we forget the everyday things we have.  It's easy to get stuck in a rut, and forget about the good and positive things in our lives.  I really do think there is something to be said about recognizing what we do have, as opposed to just what we don't have. 

I am healthy, and currently on the road to getting into the best physical shape of my life.  I feel great, and that is huge.  I have a beautiful, smart, and healthy Daughter, who I believe could not be any closer to perfection.  I could not ask for a better child than Preslie.  She makes me smile every single day.  I have a great job, and genuinely feel appreciated.  I have enough money to take care of my needs, my Daughters needs, and also enjoy life and have a good time when I want.  In addition, my family is healthy and I have a good relationship with them as well.  They may not all be as close as I would like, but I am still able to communicate with them often.  My parents especially, are very loving, despite my shortcomings and abilities to live up to their expectations.  I have a car that I love, for the first time.  I also have a decent Townhouse, that keeps me comfortable all year round.  I also have full health insurance, which is a big deal.  You don't realize what a convenience that is, until you need it and you don't have it.  I live in a nice area.  There are mountains, rivers, and beauty all around me.  Lots of room to go camping, kayaking, hiking, and just about anything else I want.  I also have some of the best friends I could ever ask for.  Not just one, or two, or three either.  I have so many friends that I truly consider family, and have always been there for me.  I also live in a free country, where all of these things are possible.  These are just a few of the bigger picture things, which are easy to be grateful for.

Some of the daily things that I am grateful for include apple juice, Doritos, Nachos, and other yummy food I like to eat.  I also am grateful for a nice cold adult beverage when I desire it.  Sometimes, it's just a nice summer drive with the windows down at night.  I am definitely grateful for my 60" TV with surround sound, and my awesome giant and comfy down filled couch.  Sometimes, I am grateful for not being retarded or totally fugly.  Well, not completely that is.  I'm also grateful to have a cool boss who doesn't try to make me work a million hours a week.  Even though I am on salary, my boss has never asked me to work more than 40 hours a week.  How awesome is that?  Pretty awesome for sure.  Sometimes, I am grateful to have a gym membership, with so many different facilities to go to when I want.  I am also very grateful for music.  Whether it is listening to songs in my car, on my computer at work, on my iPhone while I workout, or just at home, I am almost always listening.  There are quite a few things I am grateful for every day, but those a few that come to mind. 

If you aren't doing this already, I would highly recommend it.  Taking a little bit of time out of your day to recognize what you are grateful for will improve your attitude, and ultimately, the overall quality of your life as well.  You only life your life once, so enjoy while you still can.  You never know when things will change and you may lose those opportunities.  What you have today, may be gone tomorrow. 

A day of fun.

Today was a day of fun.  I woke up feeling refreshed, having got a better nights sleep than the night before.  Made breakfast for Preslie and I, and then got ourselves showered and ready to head out.  First off, we had to go return our crappy rental car to Enterprise, and pick up my car again.  Larry H Miller Collision was so generous when they booked my rental, I was lucky enough to get a Toyota Yaris.  This car was smaller than the car I drove around in Ireland, and that's saying something.  Not amused.

Preslie, as usual, has been cracking me up all day long.  When we first arrived at Enterprise to return the Yaris, there was a few people there, so we went to sit down while we waited to catch a ride over to get my car.  I sat down in the chair, and then Preslie climbed up on my lap.  As she scooted over on my leg, the chair let out this funny squeek sound.  Preslie looked up at me with this embarrassed and annoyed face, and said, "Dad.  Are you serious?"  Apparently she thought the sound came from my butt, and was not amused.  ha ha ha

Next, we headed over to Seven Peaks, and played our guts out for almost 6 hours.  It was tons of fun.  Expensive, but fun.  One particularly annoying thing that happened though, was I had bought lunch for us, including 2 sodas for Preslie and I.  After eating, we left the nearly full drinks by our towels and stuff, then went to ride a slide really quick.  We came back about 20 minutes later, and I discovered my drink was lidless, and empty.  It was upright, and had not spilled either.  Someone had taken the lid off my soda and drank all of my Dr. Pepper!  What a jerk. 

When we left, I had a call from Preslie's Mom, saying she was school shopping for all the girls, and wanted me to meet them at the mall to give her money.  When we met up, she told me that her Mom was having a little family get together, and I should come and bring Preslie.  Hmm.  Well, let's just say that was the proposed alternative to what was suggested.  I ended up heading over there with Preslie, and for the first time in a while, was able to see all of the girls.  It was really nice.  I also got to see some of the ex-in-laws I haven't seen for awhile, who were surprisingly polite for the most part.  We ate dinner there, and then left around 8pm so we could make it to Provo to see Joel Pack & the Pops play a show at Velour.  It was nice to see Joel, Ryan, and Rob again. 

All in all, it has been an eventful day, and lots of fun was had.  Preslie is asleep, and now I think I shall do the same. 

Balance

Today I went to work.  After work, I went to the gym for a total of 2 1/2 hours.  I didn't end up leaving the gym until just after 8:30pm.  Kind of a long time to be at the gym, right?  I kind of thought so, but still, that's what I did.  I woke up around 7am this morning, got ready for work, and left my house at about 8:45am.  I didn't get home until just after 10pm. 

If I was married and had a family still, this would simply not be possible.  There is no way I would be able to go to the gym for 2 1/2 hours right after work, and not come home until that late.  I wouldn't want to, either!  I would much rather be home and with my family.  That doesn't mean that I would never go to the gym again though.  It is very important for me to exercise, and feel healthy.  I want to feel healthy and look good too.  Not just for me, but for my spouse/girlfriend as well.  So that is the question.  How does one find balance with all these things?  Work, family, gym/exercise, just to name a few. 

I thought about this today, because I don't plan on being single forever.  I want to find my soul mate, and have a family together.  I also want to stay fit and healthy.  Ha.....or at least as healthy as I can be, that is.  One thing that I do not want to do though, is neglect my family because I'm too busy spending time in the gym, when I could be spending time with them.  In the end, what is really more important? 

The first thought that came to me, was go to the gym in the morning, before work.  I suppose that is feasible.  Then I'd have the rest of the day after work to spend with my family.  Assuming of course, that I am not too tired by then to have the energy to stay on my toes and have fun with my kids, and still be helpful to my Wife and attentive to her needs as well.  Having been married before, I know that this is often times easier said than done.  I don't want to fall into habits and routines that I can't realistically support down the road.  Currently, my logic has been that I should bust my butt so that I can really get into shape, and then it shouldn't be too hard to maintain once I get there.  Obviously, this gets increasingly harder as you get older.  Currently, I'm trying to burn a little bit of fat, and tighten things up.  Mostly my core.  One nice thing about muscle that I have discovered, is muscle memory.  It seems that initially, you have to shock your muscles, then really tear them down, and build them back up.  Even if you don't keep up the same intensity, you can usually maintain where you're at.  Even when you have to take some time off from working out.  It usually doesn't take too long to get back to where you were before. 

I am getting older too.  Sometimes, I feel a lot older than I am, but this is mostly because of experiences I've already been through.  How many 31 year old guys have a Daughter and a Grandchild?  Step Daughter or not, being called "Grandpa" will age you.  That being said, I do not want my best years to be behind me.  I want to be prepared for whatever may come.  I want to maintain good health, and keep the attraction and passion alive in my relationship.  I also want to have a good balance in life, but keep my family as my priority.  More importantly, I want my family to always know that they were my priority.

What I want in life is the same thing most men want in life.  I want to be successful and happy.  I want to be successful and happy in my marriage.  Successful and happy with my family, leading to successful and happy children.  Successful and happy with my career.  Probably in that order too. 

I feel like I'm on the right track, but I am still missing a few key ingredients.  I haven't found the right person yet.  To be honest, sometimes I wonder if I ever will.  Living in Happy Valley, Utah, doesn't always help with this, either.  Nearly everyone I know is already married, and progressing forward with their lives.  Those that aren't, seem to all be in a constant competition for the next best thing.  Constantly chasing, and being chased.  Putting on a show.  Calculating your every move.  Maybe this is what the game is now?  All I know, is that I couldn't be less interested.  All of it just seems so fake.  The majority of the girls that I have met that are my age are jaded, or otherwise full of baggage.  Perhaps they see me the same way? 

As perceptive as I'd like to pretend to be, I am not very good at reading signals.  Especially in the beginning stages of dating.  It can be pretty tough to know whether or not a girl is interested in you or not.  I'm more of the school of "When it's real, you know", but am starting to feel like I'm losing touch.  It would be kinda nice if a girl would just flat out tell me that she is interested in so many words.  Be direct.  Be honest.  Love and dating should not be a chess game.  It should come naturally.  If it doesn't, then I think you are probably wasting your time. 

Daddies are for catching fireflies.

Tonight I head a song that really hit home for me.  It hit home in a lot of ways very personal to me.  It was pretty crazy.  If I was to write a song for Preslie at this moment in time, it would have been this song.  It could not have been more true than if I had written it myself.  The song was "Firefly" by Ed Sheeran.

I miss my Daughter Preslie every minute when she is away.  She is my light in the darkness.  She is my love when I have felt like I have nothing else to give.  She is easily the best thing I have ever done in this life.  She makes me desire to be a better man and my reason to get out of bed.

There are times when missing her really gets to me too.  Some of the worst times are when I only have her for just one night.  It's never enough!  The worst part of those nights, is knowing that I have to take her back to her Mom the next morning, and then I won't see her again for another week.  Kids need their parents.  Parents need their children too. 

When Preslie is away, I have trouble sleeping.  I'm restless.  I get anxiety and can't relax.  I miss her snuggles.  I miss her tiny kisses.  I miss reading her a story at bedtime.  I miss everything. 

When I do have Preslie, I try to keep certain routines, so that she has some normalcy.  Kids need that.  Kids need consistency, routine, and love.  One part of our routine is our bedtime story.  I let her pick a book, but she usually ends up picking two.  More often than not, she tends to pick the same couple of books.  One of those books, which has become a personal favorite of mine is a book called:

Daddies Are For Catching Fireflies.

If you take the time to read the book, you can easily understand why anyone would love this book for their kids.  There are a number of reasons why this book is special to Preslie and I.  For starters, Preslie has this book memorized.  No joke.  She loves to "read" this book to me.  Preslie also loves butterflies, fireflies, and any other kind of bug or animal that she can catch.  She has a special bug net and even an adventure vest she has to bring whenever we go camping.  Whenever she decides to read this book to me, she snuggles up extra close, and always gives me kisses when she's done.  Most recently, she discovered the light on my iPhone.  We'll read this book, then turn off the light in the room, and then do hand puppets with the light from my iPhone on the ceiling to make fireflies and other "muppets".  These are some of my happiest moments.

Sometimes, it is really hard for me to let her go.  I just want to hold her and hold her to show her how much I love her.  I think that she knows when I'm feeling this way, because she'll hug me extra tight.  Then we have a special kiss.  She'll tell me, "Dad, let's do the biggest kiss!".  Then she'll take a super deep breath and then try to give me a kiss for as long as she can while she holds her breath and goes "MMMMMMmmmmmmwuah!!!".  It's one of my favorite things in the whole world.  There is no better love than the love of your child.

Tonight was definitely a lonely night.  I must have listened to this song  at least 10 times in a row.  Absolutely beautiful.

When it hurts.

Pain is relative.  What kind of pain hurts the most?  What kind of pain leaves the deepest scar?  Is it physical pain?  Is it emotional pain?  If given the choice, which one would you prefer?

Perhaps the worst kind of pain is the pain of knowing what could have been.  The pain of something lost.  When something is lost that cannot be replaced.  Perhaps it's the pain of not knowing.  These pains are mental.  Emotional. 

Physical pain is different.  It's more easily identifiable.  Easier to fix.  It can be controlled.  If you bleed, you just apply some pressure until it stops.  I prefer those kinds of pain any day of the week.  I think it all comes down to control.  I never understood the concept of "cutting" before.  I think it's stupid.  Why would someone do that?  How do you drag a knife, or a razor blade, or whatever else across your skin....on purpose?  Then it clicked.

Tattoos.

I love tattoos.  I love getting them.  I love the pain.  It's art, it's personal, and it's a commitment to something you can't take back.  It's permanent.  It is something that I control.  Something that I have thought out, planned, and sought out.  I've paid money to an Artist to take a gun with a hot needle, and have him permanently burn ink into my skin.  It hurts like hell, but it's a good hurt.  How is this any different?  There are definitely similarities.  It's a pain that you absolutely control.  Sometimes the pain you can control is better than the one you can't.  Just a thought.

I don't believe for a second that I am some conflicted, troubled individual.  I'm not special,  but I am unique.  I've been through experiences that are unique to me.  Pain that is mine.  Joy that is mine.  I've earned my pain, my happiness, my scars, and my smiles.  Some of these exist only on the surface, and some of them run deep.  Sometimes the pain is necessary, so that we truly appreciate the smiles when they happen. 

Things that suck when you're single.

1. Breakfast
2. Lunch
3. Dinner
4. Sleeping
5. Pictures
6. Getting your picture taken
7. Other peoples happiness
8. Movies
9. Going out to eat
10. Cooking
11. Shopping
12. Birthdays
13. Valentine's Day
14. Christmas
15. Thanksgiving
16. New Years
17. Concerts
18. Music
19. Certain songs
20. Getting dressed up
21. Familiar smells
22. Long drives
23. Group dates
24. Blind dates
25. Dating in general
26. Sad kids
27. Sick kids
28. Being sick
29. Wanting a back scratch
30. Wanting a head scratch
31. Running into old friends
32. People asking you if you're still married
33. Kissing strangers
34. Weddings
35. Reunions
36. Drinking
37. Being cold
38. Going home
39. Working late
40. Going grocery shopping
41. Vacations
42. Hard times
43. Finding motivation for certain things
44. Sleeping in
45. Quiet
46. Not having sex
47. Not having a partner
48. Not having a best friend
49. Feeling selfish
50. Not being pushed to your full potential.

Transvestites, Crack, & McDonalds.

So today I was reminded of a particular incident that occurred when I was living in Long Beach.  I was barely 18 years old at the time.  I had just graduated from High School, and took off to live with my older brother Tony down in Long Beach.  I had been given a small scholarship to the Musicians Institute in Hollywood, California, and wanted to pursue my dreams of becoming a studio musician. 

It was a pretty quick decision, and being 18, I also did not read the full terms of said scholarship.  After arriving, I spent about 2 weeks sinking into the reality that is "The Ghetto" otherwise known as 7th St and Cherry.  I needed a job.  My brother was nice enough to introduce me to the excitement of temp work.  My first assignment was doing basic accounting work at a California Insurance office nearby, and away I went for the first couple of weeks.  This is where my story begins. 

I had became friends with a pregnant woman, whose name escapes me now, while working at the Insurance Office.  We ended up becoming lunch buddies, meaning that we went to lunch together for mutual benefit and company.  She benefited by not being alone at lunch while she was out and about in her very pregnant state.  I benefited by not being alone and white while I was out and about during lunch.  I figured my chances of getting stabbed were reduced while I was with the 8 month pregnant white lady.  It worked.

One day, Nancy (I'll call her Nancy for now) and I were headed out, and she was having a crazy pregnant craving for some McDonalds.  Now, here I will have to interject about McDonalds in Long Beach.  There are quite a few of them.  Some are in really ghetto areas, but cook the food well.  Others are in nicer areas, but will leave you bleeding out of your anus on a bad day.  Depending on what time of the day it was, usually determined which one you were brave enough to venture to.  On this day, we ventured downtown.  Against my better judgement, of course.  But it is fairly hazardous to ones health to argue with a pregnant woman's cravings.  On this day, Nancy also wanted to eat inside.  The following is a true story of what followed.

I was enjoying some tasty chicken McNuggets, and Nancy was enjoying some McRibs.  Just to the side of us was an African American gentleman wearing a fairly nice suit.  He was sitting alone, and quietly tending to his meal as well.  The restaurant was near capacity.  I had this nervous habit of looking at the door every time it opened, since it had a bell or a beep as people entered.  I liked to know who was coming in.  Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.

I noticed this tall, lean, and unusually muscular woman walking in holding a 32 oz. gas station cup.  She had longer braids, but was walking funny.  I looked closer, because something just didn't seem right about this lady.  That was when I realized that this was not a lady.  This was a dude.  It was also pretty obvious that this he-she was high.  "It" walked up to the drink station and started to fill up it's fountain drink.  Before filling the cup though, a McDonalds employee had walked up and apparently shut off the refill station.  The Trani started yelling something at the employee, in an obvious man voice, which make me chuckle to myself.  This is when Nancy finally saw what was going on, but we continued to eat our food and pretend nothing was going on.  Apparently, so did all the other customers.  Right after telling off the McDonalds employee, the Trani turned around and looked briefly at everyone eating in the lobby.  He-She strutted up and took a seat directly across from the gentleman in the suit. 

TRANI: "Hey, wanna get a room?"

MAN IN SUIT:  Continues eating his food and ignores Trani.

TRANI:  "Come on man, lemme hook you up.."

MAN IN SUIT:  "How bout you f$ck off..."

TRANI:  (mumbles some incoherent crack talk under it's breath)

MAN IN SUIT:  Picks up a french fry and continues to eat.

TRANI:  (mumbles something under it's breath, but I catch something about "getting some crack")

MAN IN SUIT:  "Fool, I don't do that shit.."

TRANI:  Throws drink in the Man in the Suit's face, then stands up and says, "Nigga, I know you        smoke crack!  I smoked it wit chu!"  Then struts out of the lobby and starts walking down the street.

No one in the lobby reacts in any way.  They all continue to eat as if nothing happened.  A few people kind of snickered, but that was it.  Nancy and I immediately get up to throw away our food, and exit, trying not to laugh.  Once we get in the car, we are both in tears with laughter, and I'm sure a little bit of shock at what had just occurred. 

Personally, I was just glad that I didn't get stabbed.

Man Boobs.

So today I got off work nice and early.  I headed to the gym, slammed a Redline pre-workout energy drink, and then dove into an intense workout.  I ended up lifting for just over 2 hours, which is a bit longer than usual.  I am focused on getting fit, and am not afraid of the pain it will surely take to get there. 

My game plan is fairly simple.

1.  Turn up the intensity on the weight lifting while keeping my reps higher.
2.  Gym 3 times a week.
3.  At least 15-20 min of cardio each time I go to the gym.
4.  Core routine 7 days a week.
5.  Max of 1 can of soda a day.
6.  Drink more water throughout the day.
7.  More protein, vitamins, and supplements daily.

I've been feeling good lately and am lifting more and more at the gym.  Physically, I can see some changes as well, and I'm proud of myself for making progress.  Especially after my workout today, I really pushed it hard, and left having pushed myself to my limits.  I was wearing a tank top, and headed over to my mom's to say hello.  Not to show off, just to kill time because it was still fairly early and I had nothing else better to do.

After arriving, my mom looked up at me and said, "You have man boobs."

Quickest way to destroy my new found confidence.  I imagine that the look on my face was one of disappointment or shock of some kind, because she then quipped, "I meant that in a good way.  Like.....you have muscles..." 

Too late.

After getting home, all I can see are man boobs.  Moobs.  As I was walking briskly up the stairs in my apartment, I suddenly was morbidly aware of how they bounce.  After I ate dinner, I went downstairs to brush my teeth,  I was horrified at how much they moved.  Good lord.

Growing up, I always imagined having big man pecs like Arnold, and then maybe being able to do the infamous "moob dance" with my pecs.  This is not quite what I had in mind. 

My resolve could not be stronger now.  I will get fit.  It is time to tighten everything up.  It is time to look even better naked.  This is going to happen.

Honesty

Anyone who knows me well, can tell you this truth about me.  I am honest.  I learned pretty early on in life that I need to be honest.  Not just because I am a very terrible liar, but also because I hate the way I feel when I have lied.  No joke.  I am probably one of the worst liars on the face of this planet.  You can see a lie as plain as the giant nose on my face. 

Another truth, is that I have a lot of people in my life who I consider amazing friends.  Friends who I would seriously do anything for.  Friends who have helped me through some of the toughest times in my life.  Friends who have taken me into their homes when I had no where else to go.  Friends who have taught me how to be a true friend, a better person, and a how to be a man in general.  Most of my friends are people that I would consider family and are welcome in my home anytime. 

I also have another quality, and this one seems to backfire on me quite a bit.  It is probably going to be my undoing as well.  Strangely enough, it is a quality that I don't ever want to lose.  I am a generous person by nature.  I also tend to only see the good side of people, and perhaps trust when I shouldn't.  This particular trait tends to encourage the wrong kind of people to take advantage.  In the past,  I have been a lot more naive and allowed people to do so.  Unfortunately, I had to learn the hard way that some people want don't belong in my life.  I've had to let go of some of my closest friends.  Because of this, I am a lot more apprehensive now.  I'm definitely a lot more guarded. 

The fact of the matter is, if I feel that you are a genuine friend, you will know it.  There is no ulterior motive on my behalf.  I am not trying to gain anything in return.  I genuinely love to see my friends happy.  If they have a need and I am able to fill that need, I will do it in a heartbeat.  If that is a flaw, then I am flawed.

I also tend to forgive and move on pretty quickly too.  Read into that as you'd like.  This only works to an extent though.  Once I get past a certain point though, I am done and move on.  I'm not so sure if this is a flaw or not, but it is who I am, nonetheless. 

The point is, I know what kind of person I want to be.  Certain things and actions feel right, and I'm sure there's a reason for that.  I may not be perfect, and I'm sure that to a lot of you, I am fully flawed.  We all have room for improvement.  How many of us are actually doing anything about it?  Are you the kind of person at then end of the day that you are proud to be?  What will those closest to you say when you're gone?  That could be tomorrow.   It could also be 60 years from now.  In the end, what is really important?  What really matters?  What will you leave behind when you're gone?  What will be your legacy?  Is anyone even going to miss you when you're gone? 

Random song lyrics that need guitar now.

Circumstantial evidence
Disguises what we're up against
If only I could change the game
Perhaps you would forget your pain.

It's in the way you roll your jeans
It's in the way you're everything
It's in the way you hold your child
It's in the way you light up when you smile.

Intuition permeates
My subtle words alleviate
You're nervous so you hesitate
I am patient and you're well worth the wait.

It's in the way you make me want to sing
It's in the way you tackle everything
It's in the way my heart beats too fast
It's in the way I hope this lasts.

Coming on a bit too strong
Is easy when this don't feel wrong
So for now I'll take this as it comes
And hope that I could be the one.

It's in the way you make me want to write
It's in the way you keep me up at night
It's in the way you stole my heart
It's in the way you keep me from falling apart.

Perhaps I've lost my chance
Hesitated when I should have danced
Flowers will never be enough
In love & war, your armor's tough
Misconceptions aside
Somehow I know you'll never be mine
Like a dream you lose as you awake
You could be my greatest mistake
Never knowing what may have been
Try to fall asleep again.

It could be worse.

This last week has been a long one.  It started out with what should have been a great beginning to my week.  I had Preslie for the weekend, and had hoped to take her camping somewhere fun for a couple of days.  My boss was generous enough to give me Monday and Tuesday off work, so that I could enjoy a 4 day weekend.  Plans, however, were cut short because Mandie decided that since I didn't let her take Preslie to Lake Powell for a week the week before, she didn't have to let me keep Preslie for an extra day.  (Normally I have Preslie from Thursday evening after I get off work until Monday morning.)  I asked to keep her until Tuesday morning, but she shot that down. 

I ended up taking Preslie camping on Saturday night, but it ended up raining pretty hard from about 11pm that night until the next morning.  It was wet.  It was muddy.  But it was still fun and good quality Daddy-Daughter time. 

On Monday, Mandie and I had agreed to meet up at 1pm in Midvale as usual.  I drove Preslie there, and then decided I would go stop by Big Deluxe for a consultation with Mike J on a piece I've wanted to get done for quite some time.  I took the freeway to 33rd South, and ended up getting into an accident.  It's almost kind of funny, because just earlier that day, I had said,"I've got the next 2 days off work for vacation, was meeting for a consult, and then who knows.."  Hardy har har.  To make it worse, of course the accident was totally my fault.  I was stopped behind this truck, then went to pull forward a little and my flip-flop got stuck and gunned the gas.  Before I could completely stop, I nailed this truck in front of me.  I wasn't even going 15-20 when I hit, as I was on the brakes, and my airbag didn't even deploy, but it still managed to destroy the front end of my car. 

My first thought was, "Oh shit, I hope no one is hurt in the other car."  The gentleman stepped out and was perfectly fine.  A very nice man, actually.  My next thought, was "F$#K.  I just destroyed my car!"  I have to interject.  I REALLY love my car.  It's the first car I've owned that I have really liked.  It's been good to me since I bought it 2 years ago, and I love it.  It was such a dumb accident too.  I really didn't hit the guys truck that hard, and the front end of my car just kind of crumpled in.  Awesome safety feature, by the way.  The guy in the truck I hit agreed to pull off the road, and we just exchanged insurance information.  He asked me if I wanted to call the Police to report it, and I of course replied "No.  Going the insurance route is fine with me."  I could see that I was leaking radiator fluid, so I was in a hurry to get going as I wanted to try and get home before I lost all my fluid and my car started overheating.  I tried popping the hood to put in some more fluid, but the hood was crumpled enough that it wouldn't open, so I hopped on the freeway and started heading home. 

I made it almost all the way up the hill at the point of the mountain when my temp gage suddenly pegged, so I pulled off to the side at the exit and shut off my car.  It has an aluminum head, and as such is not designed to handle overheating in any way.  I called my insurance and reported the accident, and had them send a tow truck to pick up my car.  I started to get pretty down on myself about it, but then I realized:  It could be worse.

No one was hurt.  The accident happened after I had dropped off Preslie.  I hardly even put a dent in the other truck's tailgate, which turned out to be a work truck for the guy driving.  He was very nice, and didn't demand calling the cops, so I didn't get a ticket and fine on top of the accident.   For the most part, I was able to drive away from the accident.  I had insurance.  As it turned out, I had tow coverage, so I didn't have to pay anything out of pocket for the tow truck.  I also had rental coverage on my insurance, so I was able to get a rental car right away.  While my deductible wasn't $100 like I had thought, it also wasn't $1000, which would have sucked worse.  I also had the next day off work to recuperate.  Things could have been worse.  Hopefully the repair shop is able to fix my car, as I am quite fond of it.  I would really rather not have to go find another one again. 

I returned to work on Wednesday to all sorts of changes.  The winds of change were blowing, and there were a lot of questions to be asked.  On Thursday, I went to work again, and then picked up Preslie again after work.  Unfortunately, I only had her for the night this time, so it was a short visit.  We got to play for a little bit, and then watched Willow. 

This morning, I drove up to Midvale to drop Preslie off to her Mandie again, but she never showed up.  Normally we meet at 8am.  She never texts me or answered when I tried to call her multiple times.  I finally had to go and head to work, and just took Preslie with me to work.  Preslie loves coming with me to work, mostly so that she can write and draw on my whiteboard.  Finally, around 10:30am Mandie called to say that she overslept, and would leave in a minute to come pick Preslie up from my work.  She showed up sometime around 11:30am, and Preslie was pretty bored by then.  Even so, while I was walking her outside, she said she didn't want to go home to Mommy's, and wanted to stay with me.  That always makes me kind of sad.  Of course I want her to be with me ALL the time, but also know that she needs a Mommy too.  I hate that she doesn't get both of her parents all the time, the way it should be.  I always try to make it a point to tell her how much I love her, because I don't want her to ever feel unwanted or unloved by her Daddy.  She is my little Angel, and always will be.  The rest of work ended up being pretty short, as I only had to work until 3pm, and then went to see Dark Knight Rises, as Mozy had rented out the Theater at Thanksgiving Point for all of us to see it today. 

After the movie, which was fantastic by the way, I went to the gym.  Now I have the rest of the weekend, and who knows what to do.  Sometimes, more often than not, I miss being married.  I miss having a partner.  I miss having a family.  I miss coming home to the excited smiles of my children.  I miss helping them brush their teeth.  I miss reading them stories at bedtime, and tucking them in.  I miss my kisses and that unconditional love that comes with being a parent.  I only have Preslie some of the time, and the majority of the time I come home to an empty apartment.  It's too quiet.  A lot of the time, I don't want to be here.  I would rather be anywhere else but here.  I've been trying really hard to have a better attitude about things, and my life in general.  A lot of the time, it does seem to help.  But not always.  Sometimes, I get pretty lonely.  I don't want to be alone forever.  I want to be happy.  I want to find a partner that I can be happy with, and who is also happy with me. 

I don't just miss being in a relationship though.  To be honest, I think I am better of being single for now, as much as it sucks sometimes.  I would rather be single than with the wrong person.  That isn't to say that I believe that there is only one "right" person for me.  I can think of a few girls that I've known in my lifetime that I truly believe I could have been happy with.  Unfortunately, the timing wasn't right, and here I am.  Despite my scars, I know that I am in a better place now, and am ready for that.  It just has to be the right person.  Hopefully when I meet her, the timing will finally be right, and we will be able to work things out and love each other the way we deserve and want to be loved.  I want my wife to be my best friend, my partner, and my partner in crime.  Who knows?   Perhaps I have already met her.  Maybe I already had my chance, and that is all I get.

At this point, I know I am just rambling, so it's time to wrap this one up.  I just want to say thank you to all my friends and family who have been supportive and believed in me all these years.  You know who you are.  Sometimes, just the simplest kind words can go a long way and make all the difference.  There are times when I just don't feel like I'm cutting it as a Father, or as a man for that matter.  I think that we all need to be reminded sometimes when we are trying and doing our best.  It's good to hear that you are doing an OK job every once in a while.  I hope that I can return the favor sometime, and you will take it to heart. 

Kiss me like you wanna be loved.

There is a lot to say about the power of a kiss.  How a woman kisses can tell you a lot about her.  How she wants to be loved.  What she wants from you.  What she wants you to do.  How she wants you to do it.  Even where she wants you to do it.  Typically, most woman will kiss you the way they want to be kissed.  Full of passion and intensity, or perhaps gingerly and tenderly.  She might kiss you quickly.  Or perhaps so slowly that her lips quiver in anticipation.  Some woman will bite your lip, while others may tease you with a hint of their soft and warm tongue.

Personally,  I have always felt that a kiss is one of the most personal, and intimate things to do with a woman.  Strangely enough, more personal than other things that may seem to be the obvious choice for others.  I associate a kiss with love and passion.  Call me crazy, but that's how I feel.  I won't just kiss anyone either.  There has to be something there, a genuine connection and feeling that catches you up in the moment without regret.  It should be sensual.  It should be intimate.  It should be special.  For this reason, I strongly feel that if you are going to do it.  Mean it.  And do it right.  Pay attention to the way she kisses you, and kiss her the way she wants to be loved.  Kiss her like you mean it.

Eating chocolate.

The past couple of days have been pretty surreal. I became a Grandpa. Holy shit. I definitely don't think of myself as a Grandpa, nor do I feel like a Grandpa. For hells sake, I am not old enough to be in this role. It is not a title that I gave to myself either. It was given to me, by my Daughter, Kalie. I suppose that technically, she is my Step-Daughter, but I have never really been a fan of the "step" term, and it was always important to me go not hyphenate our relationship. I didn't want to treat any of my kids any different. They were all my kids, the moment I married their Mother and took on that responsibility. You just don't divorce kids, and I will always love all of them. I became a Father to three beautiful girls overnight when I was 23. I never would have imagined that 8 years later I would be taking on the role of Grandpa as well.

 Since my divorce, I was pretty much forcibly removed from my kids lives. It was made clear that I legally only had rights to retain a relationship with Preslie, and I had to fight for that. It tore my heart out. I know that Mandie loves her kids, but I just could not understand how she could sever that relationship between me and Kalie, Burklie, and Rylie. Just like that. It was like I never existed, and the past almost 7 years had never happened. Mandie actually told me about Kalie being pregnant first, just a week after Kalie told her. It was nearly a whole month before Kalie and I finally talked about it, and she broke the news to me by saying, "Are you excited to be a Grandpa?" I felt that it was Kalie's decision to call me what she liked, and give me whatever "title" she felt comfortable with. That has always been my feelings on the topic, ever since I first got married. I did not want the kids to be forced to call me "Dad" or anything else for that matter unless they wanted to, and were comfortable doing so. It should be their decision.

Throughout Kalie's entire pregnancy, she has reminded me that I am going to be a "Grandpa". I pretty much just went along with it, as Kalie will always be my girl in my eyes, so I suppose it just seemed fitting. Kalie was texting me the whole week leading up to her delivery to tell me about the baby and keep me updated, and then invited me to come to the Hospital after Paisley was born. Mandie was there, her Grandma was there, her boyfriend Justin was there, and his Mother was there as well. I was the first person she told and invited to come visit, and she told me that, "I should feel special, because she didn't invite anyone else."

When I showed up, it was made MORE than clear how not happy Mandie was to see me there. I was called a number of very unpleasant things, and reminded that I was NOT family, and had no right or business to be there. I kept my mouth shut, and took it. I was not there to make a scene, or fight, or even for her. I was there for Kalie, by request, and it was her special day. I was overwhelmed with excitement and love for her and this sweet little miracle that was now a part of our lives. Eventually, Mandie chilled out a little bit, and became fairly cordial. We talked a little bit, and tried to just enjoy the moment. We both took pictures with baby Paisley, and I assumed that was the end of that. This morning, I went to see Kalie and Paisley again. I felt bad that my presence contributed in any way to her special day being anything less than perfect. Kalie is such a sweetheart though. She reminded me several times that she loves me, and it reminded me what was really important. Later this evening, I went to the gym after work, and got a call from Mandie, only it was Preslie. I could hear Mandie in the background telling Preslie what to say, and then Preslie says, "Can I go to Lake Powell with my parents this weekend?" Her parents? When did I suddenly stop being a part of that equation? What really upset me about that, is that this was an issue that Mandie and I have discussed in depth. Not to mention that this is my weekend with Preslie, and Mandie had already asked me last week if I would just let Preslie go with her, and I said no. I am just not willing to give up my time with her. Especially with no notice, when other arrangements can be made so that I don't lose my time with Preslie. I want to be in her life. Mandie is just hell bent on trying to phase me out of Preslie's life. She started telling Preslie to call this new guy "Dad" while they were just dating. I had a huge problem with that. Now they are married, and she seems to think that my role as Preslie's father is irrelevant. This new guy is her "New Dad", and I'm just her "other Dad". Now her and this other guy Mark are her "Parents"? HELL NO. How is that possibly supposed to not bother me? Am I being too sensitive about it?

I have really made a lot of effort to improve the dynamic and communication between Mandie and I. If for no other reason, than for Preslie's sake. Secondly, I want to be happy and have some sanity. Anyways, I just needed to vent. Even if it's just writing here on my blog.  I don't really care if anyone reads this or not, as it helps me to vent my thoughts and feelings one way or another.

Now I'm just irritated for the time being, and am eating chocolate ice cream.  Ha.

My Stupid Mouth....

Any of my closest friends can tell you this about me.  I have a tendency to say too much.  I have a tendency to go too far.  I wear my heart on my sleeve, and I definitely suffer from "Foot in Mouth" disease.  Even now, as I type this blog, I am doing it.

More than once, I have said too much and said it too quickly.  I am not a good liar.  While I would like to think that is an admirable quality, it seems to backfire more often than naught.  I think too much, and end up rushing things and getting ahead of myself.

Music definitely has a profound affect on me as well.  I have always been easily influenced by the tone and mood of the music I am listening too.  The more sappy music I listen too, the more I tend to consume myself in the what-ifs and has been's.  I was listening to too much music like this today, and almost found myself writing one of those again tonight.  So in lieu of offending anyone, or making anyone uncomfortable, or possible painting myself any further into this corner I find myself in recently, I am going to show some self-control and refrain.

If you are actually reading this, then consider yourself lucky.  But don't get too used to it, because I don't always have this measure of self control.  It's time to put the headphones back on, close my eyes, and imagine that tomorrow won't be exactly as I expect it to be.  Perhaps I'll be surprised.  Perhaps..

Mosquitos.

Apparently the mosquito's are alcoholics, because they went to town on me over the weekend.  Seriously.  F those stupid little drunk bastards!  I am tore up.  My arms, shoulders, and legs are completely covered in mosquito bites.  I have been scratching like there's no tomorrow for the past 2 days, and it kind of sucks.  OK, that is a lie.  It pretty much is hell.

I tried that whole "mind over matter" crap, and tried to restrain from scratching, but the more I thought about not scratching the terrible horrendous itch that is my body, the worse it got.  And taking a shower?  Forget about it.  Eventually, you have to get out of the shower and dry off.  That means touching and rubbing with a towel.  RUBBING.  This morning, as I was getting out of the shower, I looked in the mirror and said, "Damn.  That is a whole lotta sexy right there."  Ha.  No, but seriously.