“How do I figure out this mess that’s me?“

7♣

 

 

 
In 2004, I attached my laptop to my television using an “s” video cable; I attached my stereo to my laptop with a “y” adapter.

 

This had the internet and all my digital music running through both my stereo and my television (which I didn’t watch, really, beyond videos I’d acquired).

 

Every friend I had that saw it was blown away.

 

I was complimented by their reactions but did nothing more.

 

Imagine my crushing disappointment when – a decade later – I’m working for minimum wage in a Target selling Roku and “smart” televisions.

 

 

 

Also in 2004, I was playing D&D with friends whereupon – during a break – I mentioned a hugely successful television program could be low-fantasy so long as it:

 

1} Featured the unexpected deaths of protagonists.

 

2} Had the majority of its budget spent on costumes rather than effects since it’s atmosphere that keeps people engaged with such things.

 

Imagine my complete lack of surprise and utter sense of loss when Game of Thrones became a global phenomenon.

 

 

 

Three years ago I had the idea to start a video series called “The Dad You Never Had”; meant to aid the innumerable young men that would relate to the title more than words could express.

 

Imagine my self-criticism when I heard of “Dad, how do I…?” and its success.

 

 

 

This year, I split with the only woman I’d ever dated that kept the majority of promises she made me.

 

I did so in the hopes that we’d each be able to move in healthier, more positive directions.

 

Such has manifested for neither of us.

 

 

 

I recently took up gardening – in the midst of all of the chaos – to find purpose while acquiring a new skill.

 

Only to find everything dead and rotting despite my best efforts.

 

 

 

Increasingly, my friends have been calling me to bemoan the state of things.

 

I suppose with expectations I’d give them comforting encouragement.

 

My only response is:

 

Load your rifle.

 

It’s the only option now.

 

 

 

Every morning I make my bed.

 

Every day I focus on the few and little things within my control.

 

Every night I hear the black dog baying; calling forth my every error, misstep and failure.

 

An all too familiar cycle.

 

 

 

Ironically, I have myriad messages and memories that prove I’ve helped plenty of men move on to better places in life.

 

Lately, I find myself wishing—

 

I could be one of them.

 

7♣