Life is too precious

What do I write about today?

I have no clue. Sometimes, a topic is easily apparent. The words just flow. But today. Foggy morning, Friday morning. Right before Christmas. Not much really happening. I could write about some current events I suppose. Then again, no. I have no desire to become just another current events blogger that nobody reads. (Simply being a blogger that nobody reads is enough for me thank-you!) Current events commentary would be more of a waste of my time than rambling on and on about not having anything to write about. Seriously. My job? No, I have nothing really interesting to write about there either. No complaints about management, no office politics intrigues that would be interesting to write about. Plus, if by some slim chance, someone ever *did* read this, I wouldn’t really want to tick anyone off. So, no work.

Family. Perhaps today will be the day that I write about my family. In the most generic terms of course. I am paranoid about putting to much information out on the Net about my kids. Too many weirdos patrolling the ether looking for something to satisfy their sick cravings. Not willing to hold my kids out for their sick satisfaction. So don’t expect to hear much about them.

They are the purpose in my life however. This may seem somewhat unfortunate for some folks, but in my case it has been a conscious decision. I do feel trapped sometimes, and quite often my mind wanders off to imagine what it would feel like to just drop it all and leave. The specific image is me at the Harley dealership, cash in hand from selling off my responsible adult car. The new cycle is shiny and loud, and the matching helmet has one of those silly spikes on top of it. (You know the ones, the crusty old Kaiser helmets with the single spike sticking up in the middle of it.) Along with about thirty pounds of black leather and silver rivets I am set to escape this dreary existence. My destination used to be Canada, but dismay at their superior attitude towards America bent my thoughts to the southern border. Then again, reading about the widespread and commonplace crime in Mexico causes me to decide that I can deal with disdain better than crime. Canada it is. I have only the cash in hand, and intend to make money at odd jobs along the way. Never staying too long in one place. I want to be anonymous and alone. To sleep in as long as I want in the morning, and stay up all night watching Cheers re-runs if I want. To drop the strict moral code I have chosen for myself, to forget about societal norms and standards and live a completely hedonistic life. When I reach Canada, I will find a small country town where I can eke out a living doing something completely mindless. There I will live out my days simply existing. No goals, no responsibilities, no future, no past.

Then, of course I come back to reality. When I am away from my family, I miss them. Bottom line, they are a part of who I am. To tear that part of me out and discard it along the road to Canada would cause much more damage than my idle daydreams take into account. Being alone sounds like a good idea when I live in a house with five other humans who constantly invade my space, even when I try to escape to that last porcelain refuge of human privacy. In reality, I am not really comfortable being alone. When I find myself alone, I get nervous. My paranoia becomes nearly debilitating. I retreat into reading books and watching TV. I plan activities out in the public space, but more often than not they are abandoned before completion, or are entirely unsatisfying because I have nobody to share with. Apparently, my brain is hard-wired to be a social person, at least with those few I am intimately acquainted with.

So no, abandoning life as I know it is not the answer. A solitary life on the road would prove unbearable sooner than later. And hedonism has not provided quite the enjoyment my imagination pictures, at least in the past. I have previously lived my life in such a way that I had little or no moral barriers to my behavior. Guess what? It was not as much fun as I thought it would be. I was the same insecure and paranoid person as before. The only difference being the associated problems that come from not following any kind of a moral code. Side effects of this lifestyle are much more difficult to deal with than those of my current choice.

My family is what makes me happy. When I see those three kids (The youngest is not yet old enough to play just yet. Give her a year or two…) playing in the back yard and they are not fighting, not yelling or screaming or crying or arguing. My heart swells with happiness and love. They are the most awesome things I have ever done. I can’t for the life of me understand how such intelligent and marvelous beings were brought into existence because of me. Or how they can still look at me with such love after the rotten way I treat them sometimes. Minutes after losing my cool and yelling at them in a way I would never dare to a person at work, they are trying to sit on my lap and cuddle up to me. Their loving and forgiving natures are quite an example for me. One day, I hope to be the man they seem to see in me.

I guarantee that man is not the one in the spiky motorcycle helmet steering his brand new Harley towards Canada. That man does not and will never exist. And he never should.

Life is too precious to waste it on ourselves.

Friday December 15, 2006 - 11:06am (EST)© 2006 Tyler Willson. All rights reserved