Do You Owe Me A Dance?

Every time this plays a parade of thoughts and ideas flow through my head but what they are and why aren’t things I intend to share in this paragraph…or any other.

Ok, that might change because I never really know where I am taking the words or is it where the words are taking me.

My number one fan says writing is my gift and there might be some truth in that, but I can’t ever decide if I agree with it.


Because my number one fan hears the beat that comes with the words falling upon the page, not every time and not every post but more often than most of you.

Don’t ask me to explain it because I can’t put it in terms that will make sense to most of you. All I can say is sometimes there is a level of communication that runs so deep I am certain we’re not conscious of how many times we have significant and conversations without words being exchanged.

Hell, the funny part is I am certain that even when we do recognize it we sometimes screw it up by trying to get clarification because the verbal explanation doesn’t work as well as the nonverbal.

Call it magic or call it do I owe you a dance or do you owe me.

Call Me Crazy…One More Time

One of the boys told me about how he asked a girl to lunch, got a yes and then heard her say it would have to be in a couple of weeks.

Time flew by and three weeks later when they still hadn’t broken bread he called me in a rage and said he wasn’t going to chase her.

“Brother, she is a pain-in-my-ass. I am not going to chase her.”

“She is a mother right?”

“Yeah, she has a couple of kids.”

“You ever meet a good mother who wasn’t so busy she didn’t lose track of time.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, kids. I get it. If she really wanted to spend time with me she would find it.”

“Who says she doesn’t and that she hasn’t tried. You come second to the kids. That is how it is now.”

“Dude, you of all people have no business saying this to me.”

“Call me crazy one more time and see how well your arms work.”

“I didn’t call you crazy.”

“I know, but crazy people don’t act rationally. Trust me, if she decides to make you a bigger priority you’ll know and you’ll call me asking what happened to your free time.”

We go back and forth a little bit more and then the conversation moves to teenagers. I tell him it is when you get your heart broken in ways you never imagined.

He says I make it sound amazing and I say it is, but it is…challenging.

I Don’t Like Asking For Help

When I was about seven my mother signed me up for summer school.

Every day I’d walk back to my elementary school and attend a bunch of different classes.

Somewhere along the way I forgot what class came after Mr. Lamb’s music class so at the conclusion of the class I didn’t bother getting up, I just sat in my seat and did another hour of music.

Eventually someone figured out that I wasn’t where I was supposed to be and they made sure I started going to the next class.

I can’t remember how I was discovered nor do I recall being particularly happy or unhappy about it. It was just one of those things.

Ask me now to explain it and I’ll say it is a mixture of being shy and not wanting to ask for her. I don’t particularly like it.

That sounds just as silly to me as it does to you, but it is a good example of my desire to be self sufficient and my determination to figure things out on my own.

Generally I am pretty good at it but certainly not as good as I would like to be.

Today was a day where I wished I could have asked for someone to give me a hand. Today was a day where I didn’t want to fake it but was forced to do so.

Kind of wished I could pull out my inner seven year-old so that I wouldn’t have felt so frustrated and at times angry.

But he was hanging out in the same place as the Hulk did in Infinity War so it was just me.

Sometimes that feels like the story of my life…it was just me.


I don’t suffer from FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) on the traditional things. Don’t worry about having the latest gimmick, best car or coolest clothes.

Don’t worry about whether I am watching the trendy shows or being cool.

If the shows, gimmicks or clothes happen to intersect with my interests that is my good fortune and if they don’t it doesn’t matter anyway.

But the one contradiction there is I don’t give up on things that are important easily because I always wonder what would have happened if I hung on just a little bit longer.

I always think that if I push myself to go a few more steps I might see/experience something that wouldn’t have otherwise happened.

It is a double edged sword, that willingness to keep pushing and or to wait. Sometimes you get the prize and sometimes your prize is a thousand paper cuts and a dip in a Tabasco sauce pool.

Here is hoping this time around it turns into a win, will take a few days at a minimum to find out.

Tell my kids that dad lives as he instructs…more or less.

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