Rain in the desert
Over the last decade or so I've been recording a diary of my thoughts. These are not well considered, sometimes not even coherent, and often the juice is not worth the squeeze when attempting to listen.
As with most diaries, the frequency reduced over time, the thoughtfulness even more so, and the intoxication is all but a guarantee. This harkens me to return to an activity which bound my mind and words together as a body to shadow like Wendy did for Peter. My fingers are somehow more relaxed typing with the knowledge that none will read save my own eyes, yet it sits available to peruse at a body's leisure. I ought to put my body to bed next to my wife's; still I am compelled to reflect and write/think as a man possessed. Better to eject these thoughts than allow them to eek through my slumber and into my waking mind, or perpetuate a waking wonder till I have satisfied my own obnoxious pontification.
I spent over an hour trying hard to connect the dots of what led me to where I am and who I am today in an "artistic" way. At the other end I could make neither heads nor tails of the beast that is my life so far. It used to bring me great comfort to be able to tell a story of self which would describe, like a table of contents, my existence up to that moment. I think that is something my parents imparted as a skill but I have since lost. With that said, where am I? What am I doing? Where am I going?
Today I am a husband, father, land lord, investor, amateur gardener/farmer, tech wiz. I somehow managed to maneuver my way through the tech industry to a title and pay grade that I thought well beyond my reach as a high-school drop-out. I failed in relationship after relationship until I met "the one" and fixed a lot of my bad behaviors. I'm just starting the parenting thing, but I feel like I'm already getting a head-start on improving myself as a father and by extension partner to my lovely wife.
Anecdote from the week. Today I was at a buddy's house doing "the boys football afternoon". Wife texts, she's having a difficult time putting our little girl to sleep. She needs "dad's special sleep powers" to put this baby to bed. I drive home immediately, do my voodoo, baby girl is asleep within 5 minutes of my arrival. I crack my knuckles as the door closes behind me and dust my shoulders. There's not a great many things that I can say I do exceptionally well. So far, being a dad is one of those things.
As far as lording over my land, I hate this shit. I live in a different city from the house we purchased back in Austin and we work with a third-party property management company. It's probably the worst experience professionally that I've known and I've been considering just managing it myself. Being 9 hours away from the city doesn't exactly help so I am stuck relying on a company that readily has zero fucks to give at any moment.
In no imagined future did I predict the place or person I am today and it is thrilling.
Today it rained in the desert. Every rain feels rejuvenating and special. Thank you past me, you did good buddy.