The Story Of Three Bloggers & Two Buffoons

Ray Charles is singing Come Live With Me, the lights are out all around the house and I have a sip or two left of some Macallan 12 waiting in the glass on my right.

Got a few ideas for posts besides writing more about the girl from Tennessee, Bloggers Should Write Like This and or unfriending people on Facebook and life.

But it is a Saturday night free writing session and this isn’t about creating structured posts that walk you through a beginning, middle and end as much as it is about just clearing some space inside my head.

It is about how I still shake my head at how seriously some bloggers take themselves and their self-appointed positions as arbiters of Top 12 places to eat, Top 98 Bloggers Who Blog About Bingeing on Netflix and/or the 36 Best Places to Vacation With Irritating Mother-In-Laws.

And that kind of silliness is what leads me to want to write a post like The Story Of Three Bloggers & Two Buffoons.

 

I’ll readily confess I don’t have a story prepared that fits The Story Of Three Bloggers & Two Buffoons but it wouldn’t take me long to compose one and I’ll lay good money down that it would be compelling enough to hold your attention.

But at the moment my attention is split between a variety of things and composing that particular story might have t wait.

It is because I am still trying to digest all of the information Danny dropped into Postmatic 2.0 Just Changed Blog Email Subscriptions and Comments Completely.

Sharper readers probably recognize the name and may even recall that I switched my commenting from DISQUS to Postmatic last year.

I did it because I wanted to increase engagement and kept it going because it has done just that.

And because Danny put together such a comprehensive review I figured I ought to take a hard look at what he said to try and make sure I am making effective use of Postmatic.

Have I mentioned that iTunes has moved from Ray Charles to Def Leppard?

Quite the change in mood and music, Rock Of Ages leads right to Pour Some Sugar On Me which makes me think about how sometimes music is an indicator of age.

My kids walk in and ask me if I insist on playing that old Led Zeppelin or Iron something or other so loudly they can’t do their homework.

Before I can respond, I often hear, “yeah dad, we know you hate modern music” and then remind them that my music is timeless and that I don’t hate modern music.

I just hate half of the crap they listen to.

And then I remind them that my generation, the so-called Generation X is the bridge between the analog and digital ages.

“What you take for granted was once wishful thinking.”

 

I am quite aware of how often I write about my age and readily admit I am not keen on this whole aging thing.

It is not traditional vanity that has me irritated, meaning I don’t care if there are more wrinkles upon my face or worry about how much hair I have left.

What bothers me is not being able to compete at the same level on the court, not fitting into the same size jeans and the mystery aches and pains.

What bothers me is the idea that one day I might find myself in a position in which I am not physically able to take care of myself in the way I have become accustomed to.

I don’t care if I look like I am a twenty-something. I worked hard to get where I am at and earned the gifts that make it clear I am not a kid anymore.

But I hate the idea that thirty, forty or fifty years from now I might need someone to do things for me that I should be able to do for myself.

So I refuse to accept that as being fate and do what I can to push the needle in a different direction. Sometimes I wonder if science will find a way to make some of those things easier.

Sometimes I wonder what I would do if I had the option of taking a pill that would make the extra padding around me melt away.

Would I do it? Would I see it as taking the easy way out?

Would I see it as taking the easy way out?

Or would I say that I want to earn it.

Would I say that I want to have the personal satisfaction of knowing that I buckled down, stopped eating whatever the hell I wanted and worked like hell to get myself looking as I think I should.

I don’t know.

There is a part of a Dixie Chick’s song that comes to mind.

I’m through with doubt
There’s nothing left for me to figure out
I’ve paid a price
And I’ll keep paying

I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell”

The sense of satisfaction and gratitude that comes from doing what people said couldn’t be done or just doing something that was really freaking hard is immense.

I have made sure my kids experienced it because it provides with indubitable proof that when you are up against it you can and you will find a way out.

They know dear old dad will run through traffic and into burning buildings for them but I can’t and won’t always be there.

Doesn’t matter if I’ll take the bullet if I am not there, so they have to be ready, willing and capable of handling whatever comes.

From what I see it looks like they are, they can and they will.

The Joy Of Free Writing

The joy of free writing is based in just letting go and writing without worrying about whether the words and grammar are perfect.

It is saying goodbye to fear or concern about whether readers will like or love what you have placed upon the paper.

Just write baby, just write.

The reality is you never know with perfect certainty what will or will not resonate with readers.

So in another moment I’ll set you free and lean back in the chair listening to Simon and Garfunkel and think about how I explained income tax, socialism, capitalism and why I hate the DH to my son.

And then I’ll do another couple sets of push ups before I hit the sack because I am driven to do what I can to live my dreams and not dream my life away.

“Sail on silver girl
Sail on by
Your time has come to shine
All your dreams are on their way
See how they shine” Bridge Over Troubled Water