Merry Christmas!

This pic is a few years old but a good one!

This is the kind of BS...

... I put on Michael's whiteboard. But I don't think it's BS; I need it, and maybe Michael does too. A little mental toughness goes a long way in life. And here's a trace of the sweet messages Megan leaves for her brother. Megan can be a pill, crabby and pissed off at everything, but she always thinks of her brother; her affection for him is vehement. It's remarkable, powerful and I fucking love it. I'm grateful. Because I give myself exactly zero credit for the intensity of it in a positive sense. It's the challenges, tough times, tragedies that often really teach us love. Following the divorce, when Meg was too little to understand it really, Michael was her only ever-present person, a nearby heartbeat that wasn't, suddenly, somewhere else three or four nights a week; Michael was her rock. She won't forget that and neither will I. Now, enough with the mush, what was I saying about Michael's whiteboard and Conor McGregor and mental toughness...

If I had a time machine...

... I'd go back and visit this version of Meg-Pie (below). Even before I went to see Jackie Robinson play ball, and Roberto Clemente, and tried to catch a glimpse of Crazy Horse, the warrior-mystic, although that could be dangerous; I hear Crazy Horse was strange. But who isn't? It's fun to hit a game or a concert, or see someone 'famous,' but those we truly love the most, family and friends, can be close to us always, physically near or a video-chat away, or recalled in warm, vivid memories, vivid and real because we were there, because we live our lives with them, our 'most importants.' We're all famous to someone. We're very lucky. Amen.

On Parental Control...

... from actress Pamela Adlon, paraphrasing: "My daughter watches The Bachelorette and I watch it with her, which feels really dirty and bad and awful, like I'm watching porn with my 13-year-old. But we can't monitor what kids watch anymore. Parents are in a lot of denial: 'My kid's not on the internet.' Really? Well you're a fucking idiot, because kids are watching ISIS behead people on cell phones. So I tell my daughter, 'It's all out there, and it's your choice, but I'm telling you if you see certain things, it will stay with you. You can't un-see it.'"

I tend to agree. I know with any mischievousness and ingenuity whatsoever – and even the angelic ones have that – kids can pretty much see anything online. Obscene, gruesome, you name it. It's scary. It's alarming for me as a parent, and I don't have a meaningful reference point from my youth; we had dirty magazines and videos, and I saw some, but inappropriate content wasn't accessible on devices all around me via cloud or online galleries and websites. Even the niftiest parental controls are pointless when they're teenagers. So I'm trying two things: 1) I talk to Michael about respect, decency, reality, integrity, character, and 2) I give Michael the warning from Pamela Adlon above, and I add: You have to police yourself at times, be your own filter; you know what's right. Take care of your mind. Guard it; protect it; it sounds corny but it's true. What you put on the 'movie screen' in your head, and then into your rushing, repeating thought-stream, can be very good or very bad for you; your thoughts are impactful; they're sensitive; they're nearly everything that's you, this can't be overstated. Nobody's perfect, but don't be a dirtbag. Maybe I should revise that last sentence?  

#332

M 'n' m and I have a new habit: stand-up comedy in the car. YouTube over bluetooth and voila! my minivan is a comedy club. The hard part, of course, is cleanliness. Clean comedy isn't diamond-rare; it's like bigfoot-rare. (Although, there are 75 TV shows now about finding Bigfoot, Sasquatch, killer Russian Yetis, whatever.) Jim Gaffigan is pretty clean and funny. Also Kevin James, Jeff Foxworthy; thank you guys. Richard Pryor, Eddie Murphy, off limits. No surprise. Louis C.K., Sarah Silverman, Amy Schumer would all teach M 'n' m things I don't want taught. Ever. Dave Chappelle is a genius, but he's on hold too. Another place I go for humor is The Onion. It's often offensive, cynical, crass – so pretty much like everything else in comedy, not for mushy, young minds like M 'n' m's – but it can be hilarious, even if scathing, and many articles apropos to fatherhood. Some favorite Onion headlines:
  
Miracle Of Birth Occurs For 83 Billionth Time

Eminem Terrified As Daughter Begins Dating Man Raised On His Music

Reality Of Fatherhood Never Truly Dawned On Man Until He Held Newborn Son’s Hospital Bill

New Parents Wisely Start College Fund That Will Pay For 2 Weeks Of Education 

Third-Grader Clearly Biting Off More Than He Can Chew At Elementary School Book Fair

Parents Wish Weak-Willed Daughter Would Push Back Against Violin Lessons Just A Little

Failure To Get Into Private College Could Be Most Financially Responsible Act Of 17-Year-Old’s Life

Man Makes Quick Call To Parents So Next Week’s Call To Ask For Money Doesn’t Seem That Bad

Pair Of 26-Year-Olds Hit It Off After Learning They Have Massive Student Loans From Same Bank

Wealthy Teen Nearly Experiences Consequence

Family Watching Movie White-Knuckles It Through Unexpected Sex Scene

Posters of Naked Women Fail To Draw Real Naked Women To Dorm Room

War On String May Be Unwinnable, Says Cat General

Report: Bananas Still Most Popular Fruit For Pretending To Receive Phone Call

Man Doing What He Loves for a Living Needs to Borrow 50 Bucks

Renamed Arena Will Always Be Verizon Wireless Amphitheater To Locals

Even CEO Can't Figure Out How RadioShack Still In Business

Buddhist Extremist Cell Vows to Unleash Tranquility on West

Matt Damon Mans Warner Brothers Booth At College Campus’s Career Day

Apartment Broker Recommends Brooklyn Residents Spend No More Than 150% Of Income On Rent

Study Finds 68% Of Americans Unprepared For Financial Stability

HR Director Reminds Employees That Any Crying Done At Office Must Be Work-Related

Sean Penn Demands To Know What Asshole Took SeanPenn@gmail.com

Shaq misses entire second half with pulled pork sandwich

Jurisprudence Fetishist Gets Off On Technicality

Gang members don't have the heart to tell police informant his cover is blown

Heroic PETA Commandos Kill 49, Save Rabbit

New Dog Digs Up Old Dog

Free-Thinking Cat Shits Outside The Box

Archeological Dig Uncovers Ancient Race of Skeleton People

Ground Still Least Desirable Surface For Breaking Fall, Study Says

Economically Healthy 'Daily Planet' Now Most Unrealistic Part Of Superman Universe

New Study Recommends Insects Spend At Least 30 Minutes Skittering Per Day

Report: Most Americans Have Enough Saved For Retirement To Live Comfortably On Streets

Accidentally Closing Browser Window With 23 Tabs Open Presents Rare Chance At New Life

#331

I try to write funny shit here, and I'll try again, hopelessly, in a second, but first, a serious comment. serious [seer-ee-uh-s] 1. characterized by deep thought. 2. of grave or somber disposition. (I enjoy definitions, and synonyms, and coffee.) So 2 fits, somber and grave. My comment: Christmas decorations make me sad. But only briefly, and only exterior things, outdoor lights and sleighs, reindeer, North Pole signs, big plastic candy canes and Santas. My thoughts turn to my father and his father (M 'n' m's great-grandpa), both exterior illuminators of renown – think Clark Griswold with the antics but less megawattage, but only a little less. Inevitably, this reminds me of my father's eulogy of his father. There is no word for it other than perfect. The reminiscence, affection, and humor were flawless. Then I wonder if Michael will eulogize me someday. If so, Michael, no pressure, but when your namesake did it, he hit it outta the park.

Michael could win a gold medal in sleeping. Although, most teenagers are likely the same. I was a world champion myself at that age. Uncle Bill called me Rip Van Winkle. How long did Rip sleep; I can't remember? How did we live before Wikipedia was only a tap away? Washington Irving – he of the Headless Horseman and Sleepy Hollow mind, also – wrote the tale about 200 years ago. But Rip, it seems, only napped for 20 years. This is the sweet part: Rip, at the end of the story, much older now of course, with a long beard and a rusty musket, is recognized by his daughter. His Megan! She takes him in and he lives happily ever after. Awesome. My new favorite story. Ranks with Gladiator, 300, The Revenant, and Rocky II.

The Selfie Generation. At least she included me in a couple.

#330

I asked myself an important question today: What have I taught my son? What skills, habits, useful know-how have I passed on? I asked myself this and was discouraged by how little came to mind. Michael is polite and social (maybe I've influenced these behaviors); he loves and respects his grandparents; he can hit a baseball a country mile; he eats and sleeps well; he has acceptable hygiene... I'm really scraping now. Although, maybe he's gleaned more than I realize, because I'm certain my dad taught his son more than is recognized and credited. My dad taught me:

1) How to have a great mustache. It's not a skill I use often, but it's there; Papa was mustachioed for most of the 70's and 80's.

2) How to build a fire. Use paper and matches, or a lighter, or a cigarette, or lighter fluid if it's really stubborn. Foul language helps.

3) How to insult and disparage slow drivers, bad drivers, "dickweed" drivers. We all learn to name-call, but some of us learn from the best.

4) How to catch a fish. In 1980, Clear Lake, Iowa was full of a lovely, underappreciated species called bullheads. They ate any bait, even bare hooks, which they swallowed, guaranteeing their capture (and death). I caught tons. We cleaned and ate them. I fancied myself Babe effin' Winkelman and have my dad to thank for taking me to the dock when I was only knee-high.

5) How to fix major appliances. Curse, complain, get the yellow pages, call someone. Truthfully, Papa knows how everything works and I call him when my oven, furnace, dryer, sump, water heater, whatever piece-of-shit thing – see, I learned – quits working. Goddammit.

6) How to love and win at most sports.

7) How to confront a person if necessary.

8) How to tie a necktie. How to polish shoes. How to look like a fucking stud.

9) How to tell a joke.

10) How to be a fun, awesome dad on holidays.

11) How not to argue about chores or you'll end up cutting the lawn with scissors. I never had to cut grass this way but my dad did.

12) The ashes trick and the moron test.

Dad's can teach us a lot. Mine did. He's still at it.

#329

Black Friday. Oh, Black Friday. Has Satan finally won? (In 2OT like Ohio State / Michigan yesterday?) We go to malls and shop now on Thanksgiving day? Some think it's evil. Like Donald Trump. But they said Barack Obama was evil, or Muslim, or not a citizen, or whatever. My point? I don't know, look on the bright side? Black Friday throws consumerism and materialism in our faces, it's true, and in a clamoring, oppressive, not-nice way, if you ask me, but it was still easy to see the bright side. Like... Megan shopping only for other people, passionately, preparedly (she had a massive, beautiful list of recipients, pictures of gifts, best prices - Yay, Megan!). And Sophie doing the same (and always taking Megan under her wing), and Michael and Cole showing me VR (and me thinking, is this how folks will date someday), and all of us happy and high on sugar (the kids) or caffeine (me). I have a feeling Black Friday isn't going anywhere, so we cleared the air and understand each other now.

Thanksgiving was awesome. We're fortunate. While eating seven million calories, I tried to reflect and snag images from memory of various Thanksgivings. I can't tell you the name of the person I just met, but I recalled some vivid scenes of long-ago holidays and gone-but-deeply-loved relatives. Yes, we're very fortunate.

Megan is still little-girlish in most ways, but I know a certain shift, a passage, is on the horizon. When I fold her laundry, I still see many hearts, rainbows, puppies, kitties, and her favorite: unicorns. And my favorite: elastic waistbanded skinny jeans. They're effing cute, that's all, cut and sewn like adult jeans but with adjustable, elastic waists; a reminder my little girl is still little. Your jeans aren't elastic-waisted, are they? Maybe when we're older, we go back to it? Maybe excessive elastic is for the beginning and end of life? Maybe Megan will wash elastic pants for me someday, instead of vice versa, and she'll think, oh, he's so cute and little now (and old and feeble)?

In 1979, there were 4.4 billion people and hundreds of millions of mothers on the planet...

... AND LOOK WHO WON MOTHER OF THE YEAR?!?! M 'n' m's great-grandma! I'm not surprised. Remarkably intelligent, an unflinching negotiator and problem-solver, never cowed by chaos... that's her!

And here she's just a super-hot, young bombshell before kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids

I found these in M 'n' m's great-grandma's basement...

... and felt simultaneously depressed and amazed. Since they are horrifically primitive, and yet younger than I am, they are convincing evidence of my own advancing antiquity... but it's incredible how far we've come and fast; we raced out of the computer dark ages. Moore's law, miniaturization, and all that. I showed these suckers to M 'n' m and they were stumped. Music? No. Movies? No. Coasters? Yes, that is exactly what they are now, coasters made by Apple.

#328

M 'n' m and I loved the movie 'Guardians of the Galaxy.' They're making a sequel. Yay! (Megan trained me to say this whenever something happy happens.) Chris Pratt is a funny guy. I told M 'n' m that humor is the highest form of intelligence. They looked at me with fear, pity, discouragement, something that clashed with the tenor of my telling them — what I considered to be — very good news: See kids, we're smart! Thank you, genes! Of course, their interpretation was a little different: Uh-oh, Dad has lousy comedic timing and instincts; for every one thing he says or does that's funny, there are like 99 misfires; we're doomed. Fine. If they think I suck and am unfunny, now they have to worry about themselves.

I love great stand-up comedy. There's incredible vulnerability involved. Big doses of vulnerability, preparation, courage, and awkwardness (if it's just one of those nights that you bomb, so say the professionals and experts who've been there). I'm sure my drollery makes M 'n' m feel awkward on occasion. Yeah, well get used to it. Awkwardness is ubiquitous during teenagerhood. It can't be avoided.

Michael's sartorial choices confound me. Sweatpants and hoodies? Every single day? Where are the turtlenecks? Where are the sweaters, oxfords, rolled jeans, buck shoes? It's not like I wore berets and scarves indoors or anything, but I cared about (my ridiculous, preppy, overdone) appearance. At least Michael smells good, thanks to Axe. In my day it was Polo, Drakkar, and Cool Water (colognes). The chicks dug it, man. We were cool as shit. 

There are two types of beings in the universe. Those who dance and those who do not.
     — Drax, Guardians of the Galaxy

Megan leaves sweet notes for Michael. Michael doesn't reciprocate.

#327

I feel lucky, as a parent, to have texting. Especially with divorce. Joint custody reduces direct contact (but so does work, travel, and general busyness for the undivorced). If your kids are amenable, or you enforce it somehow, you can chitchat to your heart's content from afar. Even if brief and infrequent, it's there. How was your test? How was the mile run you dreaded, etcetera etcetera. And sometimes: Where the hell are you, Michael?! I've spooled out a little freedom to Michael. They have apps to locate and track phones, but I haven't conjured this magic yet. How will they get away with the shit I pulled? Lying and misdirection — I'm at Greg's house (not Lisa's) — and so on. I'm not that naive; they'll figure out a way. And I'll figure out the truth. I'm sure my parents always knew the score, even if they didn't let on. Some rules were law and some were bendable. A little give and take is okay. I saw it soften rebellion. In college, it was evident that a few kids were stifled and stunted socially at home. This didn't serve them well when suddenly things were totally unsupervised.

I mentioned the election. I was frustrated more with the media than the candidates. And that's saying something. Everyone who covered the election earned a big, fat, clown nose. Big, fat, and red. Ha, an electoral map pun. Everything was so dripping with bias it was absurd. One huge outlet rarely referred to Clinton as anything other than 'felon,' and another — leaning the other way obviously — wouldn't portray Trump as a serious candidate, even though his candidacy resonated with voters; clearly it did because he won. These were the big-names and acronyms we count on for 'news.' News will always have bias. The choice of what to share as news is itself a bias. But no one even attempts to be unslanted or positive. Imagine my surprise today when I read that in the UK, media anchors / presenters are governmentally mandated to be impartial. I don't know how that's judged, but it's an interesting concept.

Megan's basketball team won a tournament in Huntley last weekend. Years ago, a friend said that coaching kids is twice as exciting as playing. Yep. I don't put undue pressure on the girls, it's just that pushing them, and wanting them to improve and achieve, and then watching it happen... it's the best.

My unemployment has been hard...

... on these gloves. I spend my days in the yard. Megan's whale duct tape was called into service. She has different colors and designs for crafts.

#326

The presidential election? I talked to the kids during the whole circus, about ads, the debates, scandals, and finally the results. Topics were easy to come by: respect, language, reputation, the media, 'seek first to understand,' 'be careful what you say,' 'be careful what you do,' free speech, 'everyone is entitled to an opinion,' and on and on. Great fodder for discussion with kids, right? I mean holy shit, teaching moments everywhere. Megan is staunchly, vocally anti-Trump. Understandable. Michael, consistent with his nature (so far), mostly absorbed it all without comment. I tried to emphasize good things: the classy, positive speeches from President Obama, Secretary Clinton, and Mr. Trump after the election, for example. Institutions, offices, and elections deserve respect. I may have sounded like a spineless milksop — Dad, seriously, you don't have a raging reaction to all this! Everyone else does! Not necessarily; but there was hysteria on both sides, and that's typical and okay - but it's the tack I maintained mostly and I don't regret it.

I have never admitted here to a certain addiction. It's quite acute, and I will confess, but first a story: I asked the kids one time to guess what my favorite drug is? Jeanette stepped in, certain I was over-disclosing, inappropriately, once again, as usual. But my answer? Caffeine. I would've also accepted cookies. The first is self-explanatory; the second does the opposite in pleasing fashion; cookies, cake and such make me drowsy. So wonderful. Sugar can ignite a fit of hyperactivity, over-talking, and beat-boxing, but then I sink and feel full, content, cozy. I can eat cookies like Kobayashi does hotdogs. It's why they're hidden from me after 9 PM. Actually, they're always hidden from me. Megan can hammer the cookies, also. As for my addiction? It's houseplants. I have about 50 at home. If I see a seed I want to plant it. It's not Little Shop of Horrors here, but it gets jungle-y at times and I have to be restrained. We give some away. I currently have baby citrus and ficus everywhere. Let me know if you want a tree. Megan, lately, is showing a similar interest. I love Megan.

#325

Do you remember the JCPenney catalog? Or Sears? At Christmas, we marked up the Penney's catalog. Toys! No clothes! A wonderful sensation of greed and joy. I was lucky; I didn't get it all, of course, but the possibilities; an Incredible Hulk doll, a lego castle, a slot car racetrack — how would that look in my room, racing my buddies! — or the Star Wars set from Dagobah with a foam 'quicksand' pit and Yoda's hut. One year I received the Millennium Falcon. I probably wet myself. And Ralphie wasn't the only one; I remember obsessing about a BB gun. These memories popped up yesterday when Megan showed me an Ikea catolog. She was tagging things with Post-its. She wants to redecorate her room. Ahh, not everything is online yet, or only online.

Now I'm wondering if Penney's sold BB guns. I bet Montgomery Ward did. Pretty sure I thumbed that catalog too. It's almost embarrassing; we were spoiled as shit. All of my friends had fantastic Christmases also. So lucky, so fortunate. At least I look back with intense gratitude. And I know I was taught to express it at the time. Here's a story: A friend of mine has a hundred-year-old letter his grandfather wrote to Santa. He asked Santa for an orange — yeah, the fruit, it wasn't common up nort' in those day — and a new pair of boots to wear while milking the cows. Oh, and the best part: he asked for a doll for his sister. How fucking awesome is that! Worthy of an f-word, sorry. Times have changed a little, eh? They have, but we're still the same awesome, generous, and caring people. Let's keep showing it and make our ancestors proud. That sounds preachy, or like I should hand out pom-poms or something, but I really love that story.

A couple good ideas and a couple bad ones, I'd say...

#324

"At first they behave very well, they're obedient and prompt and they don't seem capable of killing a fly, but as soon as their beards appear they go to ruin."
     — Ursula in Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude

Michael's beard is appearing. A few chin hairs, long ones, but that's it. No fuzzy mustache; no chops, chinstrap, tuft here, patch there; no Fu Manchu. But it's coming; he'll try something horrendous soon, prematurely; we all do. Right of passage and all that I guess. Teenage boys and beard fails are as common as a World Series without the Cubs. Wait a minute! That doesn't work anymore and I love it! So I was reading Garcia Marquez joyfully and came upon the sentence above and paused. The first part applies to M; he behaves very well. Must I brace for ruin? Sounds drastic. But I assume nothing. Michael has a simmering, rumbling rebelliousness in him. We all do; dealing with that is another passage. And Michael does, in fact, want to kill things larger than flies. He wants to start hunting. We'll give it a try, as long as we do so with Papa — as an instructor and safety observer — and we hunt respectfully. What does that mean? Well, it means honoring property lines, protected animals, gun safety, seasons, laws, rules — written and unwritten — and eating what we hunt. Michael already eats pheasant and venison, and in general, back to One Hundred Years of Solitude: "She could not conceive that the boy the gypsies took away was the same lout who now ate half a suckling pig for lunch and whose flatulence withered the flowers."

I mentioned rebellion:

There's only a few things that everyone goes through. Rebellion is one of them.
     — Shep Gordon (manager for Alice Cooper)

You don't have kids at home, do you, Bernard. If you did you'd know they all rebel eventually.
      — Westworld, a new show on HBO that's a remake/spin-off of a 1973 science fiction Western thriller created by Michael Crichton, written and directed. Is there a genre better than 'Science fiction Western thriller?' No. Crichton was a master creator. The Great Train Robbery, Eaters of the Dead, and everything else is worth the ride. Jurassic Park, Sphere, Timeline, Disclosure. And ER. Remember that show?

Megan asked me about hunting. I showed her some pictures of the Minnesota Horse and Hunt Club, where we hunt with dogs — like her beloved 'aunt' Anna! — and we shoot pheasants mostly, but also turkeys, chukars, and other birds. We shoot roosters and hens there — the boys and girls both. In the wild, hens are protected; as with humans, ladies are more important (when things get real). Ringneck roosters have brightly colored heads and long tail feathers. They're handsome fellas. The females aren't so fancy. I explained things to Megan as she looked at the pics of the hunters and hunted. She said, "Oh my gosh, you kill the mama pheasants?!" She noticed the difference between roosters and hens. I said, "Uh, well, gosh, do you have to make it sound so horrible?" No answer. I don't think Megan will hunt. But I assume nothing.

Meg can be a real sweetheart. Sometimes.

Snapped in a mirror today at Macy's on State in Chicago. I still tower over him. But he's much taller than I was at 13!

#323

Sometimes you just gotta get the Led out. (That's Zeppelin for you poor, unfamiliar souls born recently.) AC/DC works, as do others, Smells Like Teen Spirit, Sugar We're Goin Down, whenever I need a jolt, a pick-me-up, something to pop the goose bumps! Caffeine helps too. I wonder: What will it be for M 'n' m? Gangsta rap, Twenty One Pilots (not bad), the Biebs. The Biebs? I won't judge. Whatever works. Energy is good.

Ah, sometimes I grow so tired
But I know I've got one thing I got to do
Ramble on
And now's the time, the time is now
To sing my song 
    — Led Zeppelin

Speaking of goose bumps and emotion... CUBBIES!!! Incredible. Everything about it. The best game seven ever followed by today's speeches in Grant Park. Simply perfect. The fact Rizzo and 'Grandpa Rossy' (holy shit that makes me feel ancient) couldn't say the words without quivering faces and tears. I love that the kids see this class and gratitude and happiness for our city. I love that M 'n' m see this LOVE! That's what it is, baby, everywhere! Now if we can just ignore the political ads and get through the election, their faith in mankind can soar again! Away with cynicism, disrespect, and negativity, I say! Okay, the song Dream On by Aerosmith just popped into my head. No negativity? Dream on. Sad face. But it says 'Dream until your dreams come true!' Several Cub analogies in these lyrics, actually....

Every time when I look in the mirror
All these lines on my face getting clearer
The past is gone
It went by, like dusk to dawn
Isn't that the way
Everybody's got their dues in life to pay **Oh yes, I've given a shit-ton to Wrigley over the years; all Cub fans have**

I know nobody knows **except for Epstein and Maddon?**
Where it comes and where it goes
I know it's everybody sin
You got to lose to know how to win **self-explanatory**

Half my life **...Cubs have been series-less, if I kick the bucket at 82**
Is books, written pages
Live and learn from fools and from sages
You know it's true, oh
All these feelings come back to you

Sing with me, sing for the years **108**
Sing for the laughter, sing for the tears **Rizzo's and Ross's?**
Sing with me, just for today **at Grant Park!** 
...

Dream on
Dream on
Dream on
Dream until your dreams come true 

#322

After lampooning Michael in #321, and busting on young men in general for having undeveloped brains with diminished averseness to risk and, oh yeah, amplified appetites for pleasure; seriously, emerging science confirms adolescent boys are wired to experience pleasure more intensely than anytime before or after in life, but we knew that already, and I digress... after being negative in #321, let's get back to the positive. I could talk about Megan's eyelashes, how they're long and flawlessly curved and uniform, God's finest work and on proper display whenever I stare at her profile, when she's absorbed in a book, for example, or more likely, because it's too often, her iPad. But something else Megan-related is mention-worthy here: her birthday gift to me this year. She knows I love words and quotes and bullshit — ah, I'm only kidding, of course, about the BS — she knows I love words and their power to inspire. So she made me a book of "Inspiration quotes." To describe it, I can only use my favorite word: Awesome. Well, I can't help but add that it's thoughtful, creative, befitting, and one of the best gifts ever. (One word? Ha.) Here it is:

The quotes she used:
Think positive, be positive, be strong
Every scar I have makes me who I am
It's a good day for a good day
Life is tough, my darling, but so are you
You are stronger than you think
NEVER give up
Life's a journey, not a race
Be you and stay you
Nobody makes you angry, you decide to use anger as a response

50 mantras, reordered, re-posted for this week's mindset

If it doesn't suck, we don't do it. – Navy SEALs
God's lookin’ out for us. – Marcus Luttrell
If it disappoints you, think of it less.
Be a force for good.
You can measure a man by the opposition it takes to discourage him.
There is nothing wrong with loving the crap out of everything. – Ryan Adams
My song is love. – Coldplay
Love is all around you. – Tesla
Be anti-fragile.
Your bad habits are in the hallway doing push-ups.
Brother, stand the pain, escape the poison of your impulses. – Rumi
The intelligent want self-control, children want candy. – Rumi 
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. – Dylan Thomas
Free yourself from the tyranny of constant thought.
This mustn't register on an emotional level. – Sherlock Holmes
My cup runs over. – Psalm 23
The only easy day was yesterday. – Navy SEALs
There is no tomorrow. – Apollo Creed
Confrontation's never been something we've had trouble with. – Rick TWD
We won't get weak, that's not in us anymore. – Rick TWD
Relax Luther, it’s much worse than you think. – Ethan Hunt
Every warrior hopes a good death will find him. – One Stab
But Tristan refused to speak of her. – One Stab
The wind cannot defeat a tree with strong roots. – The Revenant
You're okay. Keep fighting. – Ronda Rousey
Comparisons are odious – Jack Kerouac
It's okay to live a life others don't understand.
Traveling hopefully is better than arriving.
Love more, worry less.
I can do this all day. – Captain America
Sell your cleverness and purchase bewilderment. – Rumi
Oh hell, Max, I been in tighter places than that. – Grandpa Swede (after his Model T rolled and Uncle Max thought for sure it had crushed and killed him)
We carry our own. – Grandma Bev at Grandpa Swede's funeral
There is power in optimism.
There is power in ritual.
Make practice a practice.
Terror is a fine instructor.
Pioneers take the most arrows.
Bet on him, if you like. – Herger the Joyous
I’ve been through worse. – Wolverine
Pay no attention to the critics. Don’t even ignore them. – Samuel Goldwyn
The painting isn't done in the middle.
Life makes goats of us all. And heroes.
A smooth sea never made a skilled mariner
Does iron wrought, in furnaces hot, in withering heat, complain?
Which is the greater pleasure?
Keep making shots.
I am not an atheist. – Albert Einstein
Enjoy every minute of it, Hon.
Great multitudes came to him, and he healed them all.

I made a comment in #321 about creation...

... and wanted to follow up with this, excerpted from a letter to Jackson Pollock from his father:

I think your philosophy on religion is okay. I think every person should think, act and believe according to the dictates of his own conscience without too much pressure from the outside. I too think there is a higher power, a supreme force, a governor, a something that controls the universe. What it is and in what form I do not know. It may be that our intellect or spirit exists in space in some other form after it parts from this body. Nothing is impossible and we know that nothing is destroyed, it only changes chemically. We burn up a house and its contents, we change the form but the same elements exist; gas, vapor, ashes. They are all there just the same.

#321

It's 40 degrees this morning and Michael wore shorts to school. I didn't stop him. I said if I shined a flashlight in his ear, light would come out his other ear, but I didn't make him change. Lots to discuss here, namely:

1) Am I a shitty parent?

2) Has Michael lost his mind?

3) Do teenage boys have minds to begin with?

3) Is my son oblivious to the world around him? Heedless of freezing temperatures and the perceptions of others – like teachers and normal people – that he's a dumbass or, worse, an unparented dumbass?

4) Is he trying to be cool? (Great pun in this situation.) Maybe the in-thing for junior-high boys is to reject jackets, act tough, chatter teeth, be like SEALs in surf torture (that's the cold water / hypothermia training they do that must be really, really miserable). I know certain boys 'love' spicy food and regard it as a measure of toughness. Sure, but I don't feel untough when I use ketchup instead of habanero hellfire burn-your-face-off death sauce.

They say the adolescent male mind is like a car without brakes. It's missing important shit. Awesome. It's not fully-formed, rounded, balanced, tested. It's lousy at impulse resistance and self control. Young men are crappy at postponing pleasure, delaying gratification, calculating consequences. You get it. Bodily developments can outpace mental developments that really should accompany the physical changes, but oh well. At least young men do, in fact, have minds, and they aren't easily lost or missing even. So Michael has a mind, it's just fucked up right now, which is standard. I realize these things makes sense from an evolutionary standpoint, but not a modern one whatsoever. We live in a funny universe. I'm pretty certain it's created, and not random or accidental, but whenever I'm struck by the incredible precision of its physical structure, shortly thereafter I'm struck by the unbounded chaos of pieces like consciousness and culture. I don't wish, however, for Michael to be as predictable as gravity. That would be boring as shit, frankly. Consistency, yes, but constancy in all things would seem to nullify personalities, histories, and life itself.

Every dude should get a lot of sympathy because of what we go through when we're young. With our half-baked brains.

Sophie told me today that beards are 'dude makeup.' I'm wearing a lot of dude makeup right now.

So this happens when you get laid off...

... and you've been neglecting your yard. We have a jungle out back that I'm thinning. I chopped down a huge tree with an ax (pretty sure that was on my bucket list) and now I can juggle chainsaws. Also hatchets, flaming brands, and skunks. Or maybe I'm just excited because I used a chainsaw for the first time in my life. My nails are dirty and there's a campfire burning everyday.

Life is good.

On doubt, upbringings, moms and dads, hope, finitude, cliches, gritting it out

From The Tim Ferriss Show...

Question: What do you do to overcome doubt?

Answer from YouTube sensation Shay Carl: That's a tough one because you go in fits and bouts with doubt, depending on the morning, depending on the mode... and it's different for different people. I think it starts at your upbringing, you know, what did your mom and dad tell you? Did your mom and dad tell you you could do it? Or did they tell you you couldn't do it? I think a lot of it, more than we would like to admit, comes from our upbringing, the personal, internal struggles that we have, and that might, like, feel bad to some moms and dads out there, but a lot of the kind of crap that we carry around out there like self-doubt, inferiority, you know, anxiousness, all that I think stems from those developmental years of being a kid, and that's why families are so important, that's why moms and dads are so important, because we carry around a lot of this baggage for the rest of our lives. So how do I get over doubt? Some days you don't. You know, it's like a battle, everything is a battle, 'happiness is a choice' is a battle, being confident in what you're saying and what you want to do is a battle. And a lot of the time it's a 'fake it 'til you make it' kind of mentality. There's not a good tip or trick, other than just do it. Other than you have to tell yourself, "Do not doubt. Believe. Just hope for good things to come." At the end of Shawshank Redemption, Andy says, "Hope is a good thing, and it's maybe one of the best of things, because without hope, there is darkness." ... The only thing you can have sometimes is hope, and that's what you have to do to overcome doubt. And I always go back to this, because I think it's a little jarring for people, but I'm just like, "You're going to die." If you have this healthy realization... it will give you, hopefully not anxiousness but a sense of proactivity, where you realize we have limited amount of time... so just go for it. What have you got to lose? You have to look at failures as just stepping stones, because people are always like, "What if I mess up, what if I fail, what if I lose everything?" Then that's like, so what, start over.... It's all about how you get up, you know, all those little cliches are true. It's sometimes just gritting through it.

#320

At every opportunity, Megan points out she doesn't have a cell phone yet. On the way to a sleepover, I'll say: "If you need anything tonight, Lovebug, just call." And Meg says: "I can't call, Dad, I don't have a cell phone." But I win with: "You say all your friends have phones now, borrow one." I suppose keeping a win / loss record for arguments with your kids isn't praiseworthy. It isn't mature either. But Vince Lombardi said, “Winning isn't a sometime thing, it's an all the time thing.” Packers suck, but I agree. Lombardi also said, “People who work together will win, whether it be against complex football defenses, or the problems of modern society.” Thinking of sending a few thousand copies of When Pride Still Mattered: A Life Of Vince Lombardi to Washington DC.

So the bottle-flipping thing is annoying. I hope it's like Gangnam Style, Rainbow Looms, you know, stuff that's crazy-popular and then vanishes. I thought Rainbow Looms were cool and creative by the way. I don't think twerking is cool and creative. I'm happy the NFL is flagging and fining for it. I wonder what Vince Lombardi would say about twerking.

Speaking of fatherly maturity, or immaturity, my temperament on Sundays is a little too governed by fantasy football. My day is brightened or broken by my team's performance... which sucks right now! It's making me crabby on Sundays.

"Since I had started to break down all my writing and get rid of all facility and try to make instead of describe, writing has been wonderful to do. But it was very difficult, and I did not know how I would every write anything as long as a novel. It often took me a full morning of work to write a paragraph."
     — Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast