... it must be so damn nice, so goddamn convenient, to be one of those people who can change their lives like a snap of their fingers, who in an instant can just say good bye to their happy, comfortable life and just up and move to a completely new place.
Must be so nice not just to talk hot air about change but to actually be able to DO it, to just leave evrybody and everything and move to, say, Seattle or New York or Portland or Arizona. Must be so nice to be able to change like that, to not be afraid of things that are different.
I mean, it hurts me a little bit that my brother just up and moved to Arizona, just snapped his fingers and decided he was going to live with his new girlfriend in our parents house just like that. And also I'm jealous just a little bit. And I'm not sure why.
My wife wants to move. That's no shock. She always wants to move. She's certain that moving somewhere new will be the absolute answer to all our problems. And I always have to be the crushing voice of reason, telling her that we're being supported so much so by her parents that are literally right next door that there's no way we could do this without them. Then I say money and I say job and I say a bunch of other things that crush every dream she has.
It's not pleasant.
This isn't related to the whole change theme. I'm just saying it.
I gave away a cool yucky Halloween candy thing to the kid at storytime yesterday who could correctly guess how old I was. The first answer was four. That was cute. When I said I was older the parents, the moms, all leaned up to their kids and gave them what they thought were answers. The next kid said thirty-six. Can you believe that?
Yesterday I was outside taking a walk in the beautiful fall air while Emerald rode on her Dora bike and Bela rode on the baby seat behind Natasha. I never got comfortable with bikes so I was walking and reading Too Many Hot Dogs and listening to my iPod. Perfect scene, beautiful day.
Emerald started biking really fast and told me to run and try to catch her.
In retrospect, I don't really know how long its been since I've ran anywhere. Apparent, though, I guess it's been a really long time because as I tried to run my knees locked up in this screaming red pain. It was like my joins and my kneecaps were rusted and old and refused to work right. They still hurt now.
Ladies and gentlemen, the first part of me that refuses to work because of age. My knees. Hooray crappy knees. Hip hip hooray!
I am a wreck. Physically, I'm a wreck. My health really isn't something to brag about. My weight fluctuates between 115 and 145 lbs. That has less to do with my age and more to do with my eating disorder but it also means that I own about twenty or thirty pairs of pants, only three of which still fit me. I also have some pretty serious stomach problems that make me occasionally cranky and pissy. And my arms have been screaming sore lately. And my neck pops like Hellboy. That can be a bit frightening.
I just remember when my body came with no problems whatsoever. Now it's getting worn and that frightens me a little bit.
But, on the bright side things are pretty good everywhere else. Work is good and comfortable and I'm actually starting to get things done, which is surprising. Emerald is ahead of her class at school. Isabela is starting to talk. And its been a year and a half and I still love my wife like I just met her yesterday.
I mean, sure our house looks like shit and we're completely fucking broke and I have a shitty ass fucking car that I have to gas and brake everywhere just to get it working but I know that once I get home I can kick back and read Too Many Hot Dogs and drink some coffee and watch my kids play and listen to them laugh above the sonds of Tribe Called Quest and MF Doom on my iPod.
That's pretty awesome.
All the other pains are pretty much worth it just for that. For my kids.
SCROLL TO THE BOTTOM OF THIS PAGE TO LISTEN TO MY HILARIOUS AND WILDLY OFFENSIVE PODCAST!