Why would YOU write a blog? They say it just like that… Why… You? Sorry – it’s a reference to Community. Senor Chang is… brilliant. But seriously, why a blog?
My daughter didn’t come home last night and she “forgot” to text me (although, to her credit she texted her dad). She is 18 years old… however, that didn’t stop me from waking up at 2 a.m. and worrying about her for four hours until she decided to roll up. She had a fine excuse and we worked it out (story for another day). When she finally got home, I began to search google for parenting advice on teens and in general. What I came across was astounding. Maybe I didn’t look in the right places. Maybe I was just finding the ‘best of the best’. But these blogs made me feel like shit. I started reading some and these moms are insane. They balance everything. They do all the right things all the time, or at the very least don’t blog about the mistakes they make. Who wants to tell the story about how they left their kid in the parking lot of LA Fitness (also a story for another time)? Also, I realize that society in general is very punishing of parents that they see as unfit, especially mothers. But reading those blogs evoked an anger in me that was… passionate, to say the least. I don’t need a tutorial on how to re-create the fucking Sound of Music puppet show during quarantine!* I need someone who is a little shitty and found a way to be a little less shitty. Or is trying and maybe not always succeeding. I want a pintrest fail blog for parenting. There were none of those blogs. So, I slammed my computer shut, said “GO FUCK YOURSELF” to the mommy blogging world, and then I went for a run.
So, yeah… I do want people to read this blog. I want some mom one day, when she’s freaking out about her kid not coming home, to be able to read that this happened to another person. I want there to be real communication and real connection in the world. Not just people pretending they have it all figured out. I want the answer to Kanye’s age old question (Do anybody make real shit anymore?) to be a resounding yes! I want this to be real shit.
I want to be real. I also worry about being offensive. Most people look internally into themselves and see wonderful, beautiful people with poetry in their heart. I have heard people say “if only you knew the real me”! For me, it is the opposite. When I look deep in my heart, I just see an asshole; puckered and terribly full of shit. A jerk. I like horrible jokes and mean-spirited pranks. I am a 12 year old boy in my heart. I live in fear of people seeing the real me. My internal monologue always carries the mantra of, “don’t talk about cemeteries, don’t talk about death, don’t talk about serial killers, nobody likes Bob Dylan anymore, please don’t say fuck, did you just say poop? shit.” It’s exhausting.
So that’s why I am writing this blog. And also… why the fuck not?
*I love Sound of Music, so calm down.