This is going to take some getting used to…
To start with….I’m an Open Diary refugee. I started writing there back in my college days n 2002. For the better part of 8-10 years, I would write there, unendingly re-read it, and just generally obsess over the past. It’s kinda one of my things. I’ve gotten better at it over the years, truthfully. I don’t let it get to me anymore…..well….not nearly as much as I used to. And that’s saying a lot.
Back to the point.
I’d quit writing on OD a few years ago, and was taken by surprise when I found out it had shut down for good about two months after it had happened earlier this year. By the grace of all that is lucky, I still had a copy of the most important parts of my diary from there. I lost a few entries, but, y’know, they were the ones that came after the logical ending point. And who needs that shit? Those entries were like The Expendables…someone washed up trying to recapture former glory, and failing miserably. So there’s that.
So what brings me here? The desire to pick up writing again. It’s as simple as that. There’s a lot that goes on that I just can’t ever make myself talk about to anyone, and I don’t dare share it with my wife. Because a lot of it is how much I’m sure we hate each other, despite our words and actions. We’re hanging by the thinnest of threads, partially because I don’t think either of us knows what we’d do otherwise. We’ve got a 2 year old, which is the most complicating thing in the world. I don’t intend to talk about him that way, because I love him more than anything, but he’s become the thing that holds us together.
My wife and I are both children of divorce (me at 4, my wife at like 15), and I think that’s also one of the mitigating factors keeping us together. Neither of us wants to put CK through that. We want him to have the life we didn’t. I especially don’t want to do it to him at the early age my parents did. It’s the kind of thing that caused untold amounts (and types) of damage to me emotionally that I just can’t do that to him. I’d sleep on hot coals every night to keep him from that fate.
In all that goes on, my wife and I are both at fault, surely. She’s always up my ass about how I don’t communicate with her, and I get more and more pissed off when she gets angry about it, because there’s never anything for me to say. When I do say something, she deconstructs it so completely that I don’t even know what my intent was anymore. Everything I say is loaded in her eyes. There are no innocent statements, no jests, no jokes. Just backhanded comments.
Then there’s my job. Nothing I do there has ever been good enough for her. When I started there, my goal (well, our goal) was for me to become a supervisor. And I did that, within a year and a half. Pretty good, I think. Wasn’t fast enough for her. And the salary is too low for her (nevermind it’s more than what the sups at the company we both worked at prior make, and by a $5000-$7000/year margin). And I got a night shift schedule, which is unworkable for her (she’s a stay at home mom) because she can’t sleep until I get home, which is around 1AM. So, inevitably, I sleep from about 4AM-8:30AM every day, while she sleeps from roughly 5AM-1PM every day. Or later. And then she gives me shit because I often claim tiredness.
These are the kinds of things this whole space is likely to cover. Ain’t gonna be a pleasant ride. But I can promise you there’ll at least be a few jokes herein. I’m nothing if not awesome at making fun of myself. As Casey Jones once said, “Ahhhh….it’s a talent.” Also, a few recurring gimmicks, such as……
Currently Rattling My Spectacles (a.k.a., Now Playing as I Write): “Penetrate” by Godhead, “Zerospace” by Kidneythieves, and “Pins and Needles [Skold Mix]” by The Birthday Massacre
And that’s as good a place as any to end off.