Sunday, September 18, 2016

Eagle Vs Shark

I tried to find you today. I know the name I know isn't the one I should search. I half-remember the name I should search. I know I hurt you. Repeatedly. I know I can't fix that, and it's maybe not even what you want. I get nostalgic, I remember moments. I'm trying to piece together the anomaly that is my on-going self-discovery journey, and occasionally it involves having friendly but possibly short-lived conversations with willing people who knew me when. I can't offer anything beyond an honest conversation.

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Swear Words Vs. Hate Words

The boys are getting to the age (13 n 14) where I am going to hear them swear, and as long as we're at home n no one who might be offended is around, I won't even bat an eye. C'mon, it's fucking me we're talking about: my ex and I agreed a long time ago that we needed to accept the fact that our kids would swear.

Occasionally, I overhear them watching YouTube videos or something similar, where words that get designated by their first letter are being used. In my house, "fuck" is fuck. Don't like it? Ask me nicely to refrain when you are around, n if I like ya, I'll do my damnedest. Shit, piss, fuck, twat. Hell, even the "c" word sometimes. But herein begins the distinction: if I use the "c" word to reference an odious woman, it becomes a hate word.

Swear words are simply that: inappropriate, juvenile, irreverent, sometimes downright stupid. They serve their purpose, and sometimes separate a classier individual from the baser members of society. Sure, I walk that razor's edge; and I will pepper my sentences with swear words when I could choose to use words gleaned from thesauruses (thesauri?) that would be more socially acceptable and meet the same needs. But you know what I say to socially acceptable? Fuck that bullshit!

But hate words, O my beloved droogs n only friends, if my kids ever wanted to get my dander up and find themselves at the receiving end of a full-volume tirade, they could use the "n" word, the "f" word, or something that bears thousands of years of hate and degradation in my presence; and at the end of it, they may even find themselves biting a bar of soap.

Because swear words have a place, but hate words never do.

Dearth Sardonic

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

In the Dark

Will I ever not be the sad little kid who cries in the dark for his failings?

Saturday, May 07, 2016

Heaven is a Web that Never Ends

Sometimes, I miss my kids and my Dad simultaneously. Occasionally, I wonder about the lives I have positively affected, and hope they outweigh the lives I have negatively affected. I seriously hope, with an ache that is, in moments, too hard to bear, that there is a fraction of Eternity in which I can let my hate and anger go and then right my wrongs. I don't fully comprehend Eternity, but am prepared to take the sizable chunk of it that I feel would be required to make all the apologies I feel I owe.

O, thou beloved non-existent reader, my dear droogs and only friends; just between you and me, sometimes I wonder if Eternity is really enough time to right all my wrongs.

I still come here, do you?

Darth Sardonic

P.S. In a millisecond that harkens to the old days of this blog, I feel compelled to say: Fuck technology. More specifically, autocorrect and the touchscreen phone. Stick with me, thou stalwart and strong. I am still here.

Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Foolish Pride

I would've thought, by 44, that I'd be more established and independent. I just had to ask my mother, who is retired, for a loan so that will be able to fly out and spend Spring Break with my sons. Not spending Spring Break with my boys is not even an option. I'll hock my tattered and bedraggled soul before I'll miss a school break with them.

But, O thou longsuffering; my droogs and only friends, if I could somehow convey to you how much it cuts me to the very core and leaves me anguished and bloody to admit to anyone that I am not able to manage things on my own; that I am not handling it myself. If I could express how my eyes fill with scalding hot tears that wet my cheeks at having to humble myself and ask for help from people whom I feel have already done more for me than should be expected.

I should (and do) consider myself blessed that I have these sorts of people in my life. I should (and do) count myself lucky that they never judge me or think of me as weak when I finally wrestle with my feelings, swallow my pride, and present myself as vulnerable to them.

I've said it before in this blog (in happier times), and will say again:

I am the luckiest motherfucker ever to step.

So many happier and more positive things I want to share, my non-existent readers, tales of joy and triumph; so many posts brewing in my head of a style more like the earlier days of this blog. Stop back by, I will make time to share.

Darth Sardonic

Sunday, December 27, 2015

Love Is Magic

O Dear, Beloved, Long-Suffering Reader,

Love is Magic. N while I'll never know what prestidigitation was used to bring forth the hare from the chapeau, that doesn't mean that I won't still sit in awed wonder every time it happens.

Be close to your loved ones every chance you get, O thou stalwarts, magic like this is scarce.

Darth Sardonic

Saturday, October 24, 2015

Soul Searching

This tiny mural on the infinite wall of the World Wide Web, my brilliantly painted brick in a never-ending wall of Humanity; this is my refuge. This is my Last Resort, my Wailing Wall, my Pandora's Box. This is where I crawl, drunken and lonely, to feel weak and flawed, wicked and forgotten, wasted and devastated. This is where I feel safe to be the basest parts of me that I share with no other.

This is also the place I find myself when I want to laugh the loudest, feel the strongest, and stand the tallest.

This is where I come to forgive myself.

My greatest fear in life is that I have failed as a father. It appears on these tear-stained pages frequently, and the very act of admitting this fear makes me weep. It makes me weep for my sons, for my own father, for me.

But when I am ready for it, and attuned to it, I am reminded of the ways in which I not only succeed, but surpass my own expectations:

To tell this story, I must speak briefly of my own father; often viewed by me as a demigod in the past, a man that I admired and loved, a man perhaps even more flawed than myself and less willing to admit to it.

As a teenager, I was plagued with feelings of depression, melancholy, of being a misfit. I often asked myself, "What's the point? No one understands me, no one ever will. I am not normal. What is the point?" And I felt that this would never change.

Attempts to express these feelings with my father were met with derision, and I grew to manhood secretly believing that something was so fractured within my very being that I would never recover. It took many, many years to finally open up with close friends and family about what I felt, and I finally realized that all of this was much more common than I had been led to believe.

Recently, my oldest son admitted to me that he had a bad day.

"What happened?"

"Nothing really happened, Dad. I just felt like a failure. I felt like this day was a bad day and nothing could fix it. I tried to tell myself that it would get better, but at the same time I still felt like there was no point to this."

"Son, that's perfectly normal. I used to feel that way. A lot. I still do sometimes. Just remember that so many people love you, and that if you can just get through today, tomorrow will be better."


"Thanks for talking with me about it. It's important to feel comfortable to talk with me or your mom or Grammy, or a teacher maybe, about these feelings. We've all been there at some point. Okay?"

"Yeah, Dad."

"I love you, buddy."

"I love you, too."

Myriad are my failings; as a father, as a person. But my relationship with my boys is such that they feel comfortable being maladjusted and vulnerable in the open with me, affording me the opportunity to reply in kind, and to express to them the one jewel I never received but that we all so desparately need:

This is normal, and it will pass.

And in that same moment, I am able to remind myself that I am, in fact, a good father, as fallible and imperfect as I might be.

Darth Sardonic