Our bodies are tiny, your body especially, except your head, which is huge. (fuck my genes for not ever being able to wear hats, sorry)
I think this is a heat made out of jello. I’d eat it. No big.
If you think about it long enough, you realize we’re not much more than Jello Jigglers® (I’m surprised Jello still owns that term given the controversy with with Bill Cosby, and also that I can Google “Jello Jigglers Black Guy” and Wikipedia is the 4th result, either well done, wiki, or shame on you, or me; not sure which) with a brain attached. We’re fragile, all of us. Our bodies can take a beating, but there are so many things that can overcome us, be our undoing. It’s scary, and it only gets scary when you become a parent.
Living With Disregard
You see, I’ve lived the majority of my life with a disregard for my own well-being, because I didn’t have to concern myself the “what comes next” scenarios. Almost everyone lives their lives this way, but when fragility comes a concern is when you have a kid. For the first 6 months, at least as a dad, you want to die and just be done with it; but once you get past that—it takes a while because newborns are shitty, man—you see yourself in a new light, you’re finite for the first time. There’s a clock ticking down and you’re trying to make things good before it strikes 0.
It’s not a bad feeling, in fact, it’s what inspired me to write. There’s a lot to say and a lot to do before my time ends, and I know that I am fragile. I watch you when you first wake up, you’re so eager to walk around as soon as you get out of bed every morning. What you don’t realize quite yet is that you’ve just barely started walking and waking up and trying to walk on fresh legs is a recipe for bumps and bruises. You’re like the most drunk person but you’re little, so you don’t have a long way to fall down. Especially if you catch yourself with your giant head and a door frame. (that shit is real, CPS, by the way; kids are idiots)
Taking Care of the Meat Sacks
We have to take care of our bodies because they’re our organic spaceships. Our consciousness lives in them for as long as we can maintain them. Time is the only resource we haven’t mastered yet, but we can work with it by taking care of ourselves, and fortunately my generation is undoing a lot of the terrible shit my parent’s generation fucked up. People my age are living better, taking care of their bodies, their organic spaceships.
All this doesn’t account for what’s happening inside of that giant head of yours. Your mind is the most fragile piece of your existence. Unfortunately there isn’t an
Either this is a weird aztec bug, or a kid with an imagination.
algorithm or diet or rules to live by that will ensure it’s well-being. You just kind of have to bump off the door frames to figure it out. If there was an easy way to get from toddler to adult, we would’ve figured it out by now. (other than money and opportunity, which isn’t applied equally) For the majority of us we’re just the end result of our circumstances. I think your mother and I would both agree that we’d burn the world to the ground to ensure your live the best life we know to give. But sometimes the best life we know to give isn’t the right life. We truly have no idea what being a parent is, we’re just playing a role for the next 16 years. If you turn out to be a normal person, then holy shit we actually did something right.
You’re Going to See Some Shit
We cannot account for the experiences you will face: heartache, disappointment, misery, struggles, anxiety, depression. But we can try to make the most counter-balancing experiences to compensate: love, hopefulness, determination, motivation, success, accomplishment. You’re going to be a product of the life you find yourself in, and buddy, I can tell you for certain, it’s a hell of a ride. As hard as it gets sometimes you have to remember the next moment may be the best of your life. Just be patient. Know that everything gets better with time. Don’t forget to look up and see the stars, they’ll make you feel small but they’ll remind you that everything moves. Everything moves in ways you cannot control, and take solace knowing we’re all hitching a ride.
The real reason I write this blog is because I want to show you my own vulnerabilities. I want to show you that I am not only your father, but a person bumping off door frames. We can fail together, but that also means we can be the best possible representations of ourselves with a little help from each other. I’m going to tell you everything about myself because I want to know everything about you. Only this way can we truly learn how to be great men, together.