Month: October 2013

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An Every Day Husband

100_2358Most of my Facebook friends are female, and the three biggest variations of their status updates include how they’re bored, how they’re annoyed, or how they’re frustrated. Usually these statuses involve men in one way or another. Either their husband, or their boyfriend, or the boy they like wronged them in some way, and they’re taking out their ire in the best way they know how, through social media. I follow the conversations generated from those status updates, and usually these emotions are seconded, and thirded, and fourthed (sure, those are all words) by other females who seem to feel the exact same way. “You go, girlfriend,” or “What has your man done for you lately?” are echoed on the walls and timelines of women near and far. Are men really that irresponsible and neglectful? Do we take women for granted the longer they’ve been with us?

So, I decided to look at my own relationship to see how it worked on an individual level. Are there things I do that contribute to my wife being frustrated or annoyed? And the startling answer is yes, but I can’t leave it there. What can I do to make sure that doesn’t happen anymore, or to limit that from happening? So I made a list…

  • Sometimes I am oblivious
  • I lack a certain amount of common sense
  • Sometimes I don’t “sense the mood”
  • I say I’m a romantic but I don’t always do romantic things
  • Communication is sometimes lacking
  • I get caught up in daddy-mode instead of spouse-mode
  • I need to be an every day husband

But what does that mean, to be an every day husband? Continue reading “An Every Day Husband”

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The Death of Books

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I am sitting in Barnes & Noble, a place I haven’t been in an awfully long span of time. This used to be my hangout, of course, with its rows upon rows of books spread out toward the horizon, as far as the eye could see. So why haven’t I been here in so long? Life happened, and it has taken me along with it. But I’m here now, soaking up the atmosphere and wondering how I can do this more often. A sigh just escaped my lips at the prospect.

Of course it’s not the same, though, not how it used to be. In the old days the side area by the windows was full of comfortable chairs, ambience if you will. And over by the entertainment section there were more soft, cushy chairs that invited people to sit and stay a while. In fact, it wasn’t unheard of to laze away an entire afternoon or even a whole Sunday relaxing in those chairs and reading my life away. So refreshing. Now there are three of those such chairs, and the culprit… the Nook.

In the exact middle of the store now is a section that has been hollowed out, displacing rows upon rows of books, as well as those extra chairs that created such an atmosphere that I thrived on. And I understand why they did it. I do. Obviously books aren’t selling like they used to, those physical behemoths with spines and that fresh book smell. They’re losing out to so many other types of media, including the eBook, and Barnes & Noble saw the writing on the wall. They jumped in with both feet, and the results are evident.

And I mourn the loss of those books that were displaced by the revolution.
Continue reading “The Death of Books”

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Those Sad Birthdays

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“Maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you’ve had, and what you’ve learned from them, and less to do with how many birthdays you’ve celebrated.”

When I was eight years old I asked my mom what it was like to have a real birthday, to have everyone be so excited for you that they would never want to miss your party, to stand up in front of the class wearing a cheesy birthday hat and have people serenade you with the birthday song. And she looked at me like I was crazy, as if I had grown an extra head between the time I asked her the question and the time she finally looked up at me. But I wasn’t crazy. I knew how it felt to get shafted on my birthday, to see everyone else get to enjoy theirs but to have mine crowded into the shadows of a brighter sun by which all other days merely orbit instead of shining in their own right. Because, you see, I was born on December 27th.

I remember relating this story to others as I got older, and telling them all about the massive disappointment I felt every year on the anniversary of my birth. I told them stories of getting presents wrapped in Christmas paper that were obviously just Christmas presents that were siphoned off and given to me two days later for my appeasement. It was obvious one year when I got a remote control car for Christmas and the remote control to actually use it on my birthday, both wrapped in identical Santa Claus paper. It was so bad at one point that I recall shouting at someone (it might have been my Uncle Michael — sorry), and saying how if they were going to get me Christmas presents and misrepresent them as birthday gifts that I didn’t want any presents at all. And I know you’re thinking I was spoiled, but I really wasn’t. I just wanted to be recognized on my special day, like so many others are without question. Continue reading “Those Sad Birthdays”

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Mirage

She was my favorite Doe-eyed and fresh Gently loved Sweet as snow Falling softly down Pure in every way Until she wasn’t When the rains came Sluicing away the mirage Daydream suicide I was young then A character out of time Feeling her pulse It beat in perfect rhythm With my pounding heart It felt … Continue reading Mirage

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The Apologist, Part 2

Those two little words.

“I’ve skirted all my differences, but now I’m facing up. I wanted to apologize for everything I was, so… I’m sorry.” – R.E.M.

When I was a kid I remember my mother giving me “the look,” the one that said I did something wrong and I needed to somehow make it right. But I never knew what it was I did wrong in the first place, and I had absolutely no idea how to make it right. She would sit me down and explain what I did wrong. Maybe I pulled my sister’s hair, or I stole the Kool-Aid, or I forgot to feed the guinea pig, or one of a million other things I tended to mess up during the course of my short life up until that point. But that was the easy part, coming up with the problem; it was the solution that always proved to be difficult.

I’m sorry. Why was that always so hard to say? Maybe because I wasn’t. Not really. Not ever. Continue reading “The Apologist, Part 2”