Learn

When I was a senior in High School I had the greatest teacher ever.

It was 6th period. The last class of the day. Ironically enough, in the last classroom on the right, down the freshman hall.

Mrs. Adcox was her name.

She was my English teacher.

In her room there was an incredibly, ridiculously, atrociously thick dictionary that stood on a pedestal.

Every day when I slugged my way into class and dumped my backpack on the floor next to my desk, I would go over to that big ass book and flip it open, albeit randomly, to a page. I would close my eyes and press my finger down on that exposed bit of paper.

If I already knew the word my finger had found, I would repeat the ritual.

True Story.

It amused Mrs. Adcox.

She asked me why I did it.

"Because as long as I could do this, I'll never know everything it has to tell me".

That was my answer. Honest to God. Every time she asked me.

I honestly believed that. I honestly still do.

She would smirk and go on about prepping for the lesson. To this day, she's one of the hand full of teachers I truly am grateful for having been around.

She let me Learn.

I hope your teachers do the same.

0.01 Celsius - Letter Number 2

 
You are not inherently special. There is nothing about you that sets you apart from any other biological form on this planet, save another's whim. You require oxygen to breath, sustenance to consume, and water to swallow to survive. By all accounts, you're simply a dependent creature who worships their environment for the blessings of those things that sustain you, those things that give you another moment. Just like the ants you step on.

But that does not mean that you are not capable of mattering.

And it certainly does not mean that you're better than all of those other, inherently, ordinary things...

I have known assholes and I have known saints. Their differences are often so insignificant that the only telling point to be found is in how they say your name.

Your Father knows both creeds. He knows them well. He's been both. Quite often, at the same time.

If I could turn back the hands of time, wrestle them to the ground and push them into the dirt, I would imagine that I would pick a side. I would imagine that I would choose an allegiance. I would imagine that I'd be valiant enough to decide.

But both I & Cher know I can't.

I kill me.

Did that joke fail?

Are you feeling what I'm telling you here?

You're either liquid or you're frozen.

0.01 Celsius is a place you can never be... for Good.

(P.S. Doesn't Anders look kind of... I dunno... like Julia Roberts? Weird, yea? Hell, maybe he just forgot his chapstick that day. = Things that run through your Daddy's mind.)

Pals

 

I want you to look at this picture. Simply look. I don't want you to see it. Seeing something is not the same as looking at it. Seeing implies that you divulge something from what you see. Believe me... I just want you to look.

Look at this picture. Granted, you'll immediately find your Father. Next, if you're as twisted as I, you will find the juvenile humor in the sign placement. Granted, all of that is hilarious to me, but I don't want you to see it. I want you to look further.

If you look, you'll find something out of place. That fuzzy little bit in the bottom left hand corner.

That's a Pal.

Someone who has endeared (endured works here as well) themselves with you to put up with your childish whims, your broken moments, and your lowest gasps. Someone who has seen your naked ass running into the Atlantic Ocean at midnight, even if you felt upstaged by people half your age, and still held the towel for when you emerged from such a foolish endeavor.

That's a pal.

Pals last for good.

Forgotten - Letter Number 1

Letter Number 1.

We're such an intriguing species. We're capable of such compassion, such honest devotion to one another, to the point where the single, most precious gift we all carry has been given back for another. So beautiful in that respect. So pure.

We're also capable of such devastating cruelty. So adept at singular survival that the imagination is boundless beneath the thought of that capability. So desperate for another gulp of air that we would destroy for it. Even ourselves, if it meant another could never inhale it outside of our presence.

It perplexes me to the point of languish. Not because I don't understand it... but because I do. I'm both. Just like you. Just like each of us.

Contrary to what you'll hear countless times over, life is not a journey. A journey has a beginning, a path, and an ending. Life is not like that. Life is a perpetual state of moments. Simple, definable instances wherein we realize who we are, what we are, and what we're doing. It is not a road. It is a rest stop. Life is a whole bunch of "Now". Nothing more, Nothing less.

What that means is that the best you can be, the best you can do, the most goodness you can find, and the most goodness you can give... has to be given Now. Right now. Not tomorrow. Tomorrow will never exist. Not Yesterday. Yesterday died a violent death. Right now is all you'll ever have. A perpetual state of Now. An immortal loop, an unending ride, a wild and restless state of absolute awareness. Every day, with every breath, you're defining Here. You're defining You in the mind of those around you.

People are remembered all the time. That's not hard to accomplish.

You make sure you're not Forgotten... for a little while, at least. ;)

There is a difference.

And Now is when it all matters.

Those Things

One of your Daddy's favorite Songwriters passed away last year. Ironically, he hailed from Georgia.

In more irony, he passed away in my hometown of Roanoke, Va. I just wanted you to know those things.

It's a small world but there is a whole lot of good sound bouncing around in it.

As an aside, your Daddy wrote a song about rain once too.

I think that Man knew what he was talking about.

Always love your Grandparents

Because both of you remind me of them...

... in your own special little way.

Yep.

Just Float

Your Father has not always been the virtue. He's not always been the vice. He's always been somewhere between both of those things.

He's not unique in that. He's the bell curve. He's Soy Happy Vacant. Like Everybody Else.

But I'm your Father.

So listen this time.

Life is fucked up. There are days when we fall asleep content and fulfilled and there are days when we don't fall asleep at all. We all set out on this journey without a map, without a course of guidelines, without a damn compass, even.

Regardless, we all set out. We had no choice.

I want to tell you about a stream. It meanders just north of here. It pushes up out of the ground and cascades its way over rocks and drops. It pushes everything it has ever been, down. Gravity makes sure of that. It constantly tries to find its way. That is its purpose. That is what it does Best.

But it is so much more pure than you will ever be. And it has no will.

You can't waste your time trying to be like that stream. You'll never achieve that. The best you can do is try to be the leaf that floats atop it, finding its own way down.

You'll end up stuffed up against a piece of limestone, that's a given. You'll end up mired in a pool of stagnant muck, that's a given. You'll end up clinging to a piece of bloated wood, that's a given.

But eventually all of those things will give way and you'll find yourself swift with intention.

So don't worry about the muddy shore, the proud stone, the circling pool, or the broken branches.

In the end you'll either wind up a dried out fragment of what you once were, on some creek bank, or you'll end up bloated and slowly tearing apart... beneath the crushing depths.

Both are Honorable Ends... as long as you appreciate the Ride.

Ever After never cared about You... so don't care about It.

Just float while you can.