I've found that I'm pretty good at starting projects. If I opened up my hard drive for you to look at, you would find quite a few poems, several short stories (unfinished), two novels (unfinished), a weight loss tracking chart (I think that lasted a few months and even made it to the blog), and a couple of animation clips from the expensive graphic arts software I bought and have used maybe four times. I also have a book of quotes that I'm very fond of (the title is "Random Jottings"), and I have occasionally kept up with it throught the years. When I think about the number of good quotes I have missed, it makes me sad. This blog is another of those neglected projects. I have great initial bursts of creativity, and then I remember how cool the X Box (actually now it's the PS3) is. I actually tried giving up video games for Lent this year. I made it about 28 days out of 40.
I'm going to be a father this year, and the third biggest fear I have (next to the fear of being into the room while my wife's in labor and most of all my fear of dropping the child) is how long my interest will last in this new project. Am I ready to commit to something full-time for once, or will my daughter have to hear "not right now" for most of her life? We haven't decided on a name for the little one yet, but the thought of being actually responsible for her scares me. I sincerely hope that I treat her with more attention than my pets; if my cats didn't jump in my lap I'd probably forget all about them, and my dog still lives with my parents (I think he's happier there, though).
Growing up sucks. Please don't get the wrong impression; I really am completely happy with the choices I have made, and I look forward to my (our) little Monkey's arrival in September. My problem is more of a lack of direction. Supposedly I'm should be in control of some aspects of my life by now, but to be honest I'm lucky to remember what day of the week it is on a given day.
I know I want the best for my family, and I suppose most parents/spouses do. I had everything figured out before I graduated high school, and literally nothing has gone the way I expected since then, and suddenly almost six years have elapsed. It's kind of like a line in the Ben Folds Five song "Jackson Cannery": "Seconds pass slowly, and years keep flyin' by." I suppose it would be better to enjoy each moment as it comes, but that is much easier said than done right now. Every time Abigail says she wants it to be September, I tell her we'll get there, but to be honest it's hard to follow my own advice. I wish it were Christmas, myself, and maybe by then I'll have everything figured out. Were I a betting man, though, I would put money on "probably not."
In all fairness, maybe most of this is the past few hours listening to jazz and blues talking. Tomorrow is a new day, and maybe everything will make sense then. I'm going to put some nature sounds on and get some much needed sleep now. Take care, people!
