So I guess the meaning, combining the two would be something like an unoriginal, obvious thought. A pretty compelling way to begin a blog that I fully expect for you to read at some point in your life. However, given the context of this one, perhaps is less banal and less of a platitude given the context of my life, and yours.
The time has come. You mother and I have moved into different places, and your life is about to get fucked. I mean, we’re going to try and make it easy for you and you’re still young, so you may not fully appreciate them for some time. It is our hope that you will find this to be your normal routine, a platitude. So far you’ve been doing well, you’ve adapted quickly. You’ve always adapted quickly to changes. You’re dynamic. Your mother and I are not.
There’s a period of adjustment
There’s a period of adjustment to big life changes, separations, divorces, lay-offs, moving, money problems, they’re all big issues, but in the scope of life they’re normal, boring; they’re banal. You
and I have experienced a few of these in a week. You’ve done better with it than we have, and that’s because you’re pretty incredible; just happy and inquisitive. You also never stop touching buttons, you literally stood with your cheek against the dining room table and pressed the enter key on my laptop for 10 minutes, just because it was something to push. You’re weird, too.
Life is Lifey
We’ve got a good life in this place. It’s a little apartment, but it’s ours, you know? 3 years ago I could barely afford one room in a two bedroom place, and now I can afford a two bedroom place, with one room that’s only occupied 50% of the time. I mean, just barely, but we’re doin’ alright. I bought some sheets for $14 and I feel good about that decision. I’m also finally contributing to a 401k again, so hopefuky, you don’t have to wipe my ass when I’m old and useless—for the record, when I’m old as fuck and useless I want you to put me in a “retirement home” because those hunnies need some lovin’ and I’ll make sure they’re taken care of, you know what I’m sayin’?.
So there was this big anticipatory moment that I was expecting to feel, like a giant weight lifted off me when I got my own place, a place for us. But things don’t come that easily. There’s always an acclimation phase to anything, and The Avett Brothers wrote this in The Weight of Lies:
The weight of lies will bring you down
And follow you to every town ’cause
Nothing happens here that doesn’t happen there
So, when you run make sure you run
To something and not away from ’cause
Lies don’t need an airplane to chase you down
Escape Not the Things that Vex
The point is that you never escape who you are. And who I am is who I am now. I am fully accountable for my own life, and yours, and it’s not what I imagined it to be. There’s still a lot of Netflix and sitting around, but there are less dishes to clean, so that’s something. I am still very much the same person I was a week ago, but I had hoped a switch would be flipped and I’d be a new man all of a sudden. I am still very much the same man, and it was conveyed to me recently that I am my harshest critic, and perhaps I should give myself a break. I’m almost there, kiddo. I’m almost ready to coast, but more money less driving, more P in the V (uh… pension in the vault?) and I’ll be ready to have “arrived.” I do worry that enough will never be enough, but on a positive note, have more than enough toilet paper now. Baby steps.
You’re currently conducting your 2nd snoozefest in these new digs and I should probably follow suit. Sunday we’re going to swim and go to the most epic park of all time. I’m going to be miserable because it’s hot as fuck in Texas, but you don’t give a shit about sweating and the heat. So I can deal. You’re the dynamic one in the family.
Thanks to David Foster Wallace and his commencement speech This Is Water, for inspiring this lack-luster blog