The Balance

I’ve just finished the dishes and a cursory cleaning of the kitchen countertops. Jenn asks who the guest is on the episode of You Made It Weird I’m listening to. Roy Wood, Jr., I tell her. She looks puzzled and I explain he’s a correspondent on The Daily Show. I’ve really been enjoying the conversation between him and Pete Holmes. It makes me a little lonely, not having any real close guy friends I can hang out with and talk to the way Pete and Roy talk about life, comedy, family, philosophy and times you’ve laughed the hardest.

With about 10 minutes left in the podcast, I decide to go sit on the couch and listen to the rest while feeling the cool air of the living room fan blow on me. Jenn’s on her computer preparing for her first week of the school year when she says, “Uh-oh.”

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Do you hear that?”
I look toward the bedroom and sure enough, I hear a faint cry. I pause the podcast, put my phone in my pocket and go into the bedroom.

Stormy’s woken up and I see he’s upset and on his knees among the pillows, wondering where Jenn and I are. He sees me and stands up, arms outstretched, crying. My heart melts a little as I rush in to pick him up, quietly telling him everything’s okay.

Not a second passes and his head is already resting on my shoulder. Not sure if he’s quite asleep I still hang onto him, patting his back and doing my best to remain in the moment.

After a few minutes I’m pretty sure he’s asleep and I lay him down on the mattress and lie down next to him. His eyes are closed tightly, but he still moves. He wiggles into kind of a downward dog pose then rolls over, snuggling up into a spoon position against my chest.

My heart melts a little more and I help keep his arms still as he’s a restless sleeper and he gets into a more sound sleep when his limbs are secured.

I look at his little round face, finally at rest. His breathing is slow and deep. I begin to reflect…

SO much has happened in the last year since li’l Stormy came into the world. It’s been one of the longest and fastest years of my life.

Earlier Jenn asked me if I remembered the sleeping ritual for Stormy when he was a few months old. I honestly could (and still) not remember. That period is a hazy blur. Few memories stick out from the first handful of months – especially during the first weeks.

I remember we started alternating nights of who would stay up and sleep on the couch, keeping an eye on Stormy as he swung back and forth in the infant swing. It was the only way he’d sleep in those days. One of those nights there was a Stephen King movie marathon on TV. It was the first time I ever saw Maximum Overdrive, albeit half-awake, and the first time in many years I had seen Pet Sematary.

I remember how a lullaby version of The Imperial March was the first song to soothe him in his bassinet and how Zelda’s Lullaby would instantly calm him down when he’d start sobbing in the car during rush hour traffic.

Anyway, I digress…

I’m about to turn 37. Jenny and I are zeroing in on 40, and here we are with this brand new thing, this whole new venture in our lives – offspring. And as precious and precocious as Stormy is in this time, he’s not going to be a toddler forever. Part of me celebrates and part of me laments that fact.

It’s taken me 36 years just to get to this point: the beginning of my career in film and writing; a married man for a couple years; a father.

Now, if I want to see Stormy grow up and be there for him every step of the way…that’s going to take at least another 36 years. Well, 35 from this point.

I confess that while I look forward to many things to come, part of me shudders, wondering: do I have another 35 years in me?

By the time he’d be graduating from high school, I’ll be 52.

I don’t feel like a father. I don’t feel like a husband. And yet, there is a woman who fell in love with me and assures me I am both.

I don’t feel like I’m about to turn 37.

Oftentimes I feel like I did when I was 15-22, when I was starting to figure things out; when I was starting to figure myself out. Past 22, things become a bit of a blur unless I stop and think deliberately about certain times in my life.

Over the last five years or so, I’ve learned that life isn’t as simple as I wished or was led to believe it is.

My views and understanding of faith and objects of faith have undergone a radical metamorphosis. Things that were so fundamental to my worldview, which I thought were unmovable and immutable, I’ve experienced them to be quite movable and flexible.

I think of the second album by Jars of Clay entitled, Much Afraid, an album I listened to heavily during my freshman year of college. I think specifically of the second track: Fade to Grey.

I need something familiar, but with new meaning to walk me into this new world. I love how non-specific and open to interpretation the lyrics of the song are. The band caught a lot of flack from the church for that on their first album. But that’s how life is: open to interpretation, rarely so easy to understand.

 

2016 Reflections

It’s been quite a year.

A lot of folks think it’s been a terrible year. The world has lost many worldwide famous entertainers as well as close, personal loved ones. Even now, as the clock ticks down to midnight on the east coast, I’m seeing new Facebook posts pop up from folks whose relatives or family members have passed on to the next life.

I’m not going to say how people should grieve or handle loss, but for me 2016 wasn’t a terrible year, though it certainly hasn’t been without its fair share of new challenges and hard lessons.

I’d say the most significant event for me was Stormy’s birth back in April. He came a couple weeks ahead of schedule and has changed everything, and I’d change nothing back.

The second most significant event for me was transitioning out of the military and back into being a full-time student, this time in my dream major: filmmaking.

Losing that job security has had its share of stressors, but Jenn, Stormy and I are doing okay so far, and the future’s looking good so long as we’ve got each other.

I’ve learned that there’s a difference between knowing the world isn’t black and white and viewing it as such and acting accordingly.

I’ve learned that if I truly believe I am as worthy of respect as the next guy, I need to stand up for myself and understand that sometimes people will be upset when I do that.

I’ve also learned that standing up for myself doesn’t mean I get to or have to be a dick about it ( – baby steps – ).

I’ve learned and experienced a newer, deeper level of selfless love since Jenn and I became parents.

I’ve learned that though I may have missed out on friendships available over 18 years ago, under the right circumstances it’s never too late to reconnect and enjoy the good old time now rather than lamenting the previously missed opportunities.

I guess I’ve learned that redemption is divine and the mundane is sacredly profound.

I’ve learned that I have a whole lot more to learn before it’s my time to go.

Here’s to another 365ish days hurtling through the frigid vacuum of space in solar orbit on our homey pale blue dot.

Weaks to Weeks

I first felt it last Thursday: a scratchiness in my throat, a developing cough, and the occasional minor headache. By Friday night I was coughing and mildly hacking and by Saturday I was fa-reakin’ sick. The Uncommon Cold, I like to think of it.

It continued to grow Sunday and into Monday. The severity seemed to wax and wane, but I knew I was in its clutches Monday night.

This past week has been three parts hell, two and a half parts heaven.

It’s just so frustrating. You can’t do what you normally do. It makes me feel weaker; when my head is all stuffed and aching I can’t focus or concentrate on anything other than the pain and trying to make it go away.

I’m also afraid of getting Jenn and Stormy sick. As a matter of fact, poor

The sun peeking over to campus.
The sun peeking over to campus.

li’l Stormy did get sick. He has this terrible, occasional cough now and sometimes he goes into little coughing fits. It just breaks Jenn’s and my hearts as it sounds so awful and he doesn’t know what’s happening. Fortunately, he also seems to be on the mend after a doctor visit yesterday. We’ve treated him with saline drops (which he hates and I hate administering them), a Vicks Vaporizer and tonight some BabyVicks ointment.

By some miracle Jenn hasn’t gotten sick.

I think the ailment is starting to leave me, too, finally. After this crazy week, today all three of us finally got a chance to catch up on our rest and I started using the saline mist. Not a fan of it going down the back of my throat, but it seems to help.

So then there’s Sunday – a day to catch up on work and cleaning and such, and then Monday all over again.

And soon – very soon – I’ll be out of the Navy.

While this past week kind of sucked, and while the preceding weeks were remarkably challenging, the groundwork is being laid for life after October 31, and it’s starting to pay off.

Work on The Frozen Wastes has all but stopped, but not on the saga as a whole…more on that in another post.

My meager production company, Phazon Media, is starting to see more action.

Other opportunities continue to arise, too.

And by now, if you’re a regular to this blog, you’ve seen my series, Anchors Aweigh! with new installments being posted every Thursday. Thursdays will be my days for serial stories. Soon I’ll be starting one-shot stories every Tuesday with a weekly check-in thrown in there somewhere; perhaps on

.

So that’s it for now – thanks for stopping by!

Connecting With the Past

We shouldn’t live in the past, but by all means we should be connected with it.

Tuesday morning I went into the gym for my daily Fit By First workout. It involved jumping jacks, situps/crunches, planks, and other things.

I took my place in front of the mirror.

I jiggled.

I wiggled.

I shook and shimmied involuntarily as I put my body through the paces.

And I watched.

Never have I seen me in such a state.

I’ve weighed this amount before, but I’ve never put myself in front of a full-body mirror and tried doing full-body exercises.

A few years ago that would have been mortifying. Now it’s…well, while I’m not satisfied with my metabolic status quo I realize it’s not going to change overnight and I’m not going to lose anything of value while I’m in it.

According to the Navy, for my height I’m about 30 pounds out of regulations. I think it’s fair to say it’s not all muscle; it’s not even 50% muscle, I think. I’d say it’s probably more significant than I think, but nowhere near what I’d want it to be. Well, maybe near; I’m not obese, but I am rambling, so to the point:

A lot of change has been going on in my life.

IMG_2295

I became a father this year. I went back to school. I’m getting out of the Navy after five years of service. Jenn and I moved and she went back to work. I have to drive Stormy to his grandparents at 0530 every morning (If we leave on time) and be back at Manoa in time for my 0730 class on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I’m writing a book and getting coached in how to publicize it and sell pre-orders to get it published by Inkshares. I’m working on a prospective project for my side business. I get 4-6 hours of sleep most nights.

And while I don’t want to stay 30 lbs out of regs – even after I separate – I’m not super-ashamed because look at my life.

Crazy? Frenetic? Hectic? Abso-toot-ly.

But then tonight, after Jenn finished feeding Stormy – his last before bed – I was carrying him, gently burping him, and he had his head on my shoulder, facing toward me, but eyes shut tight, breathing deep, falling deeper into sleep.

Skinny Cliff would kill for such moments.

I thought back to when Jenn first told me her pee test popped positive; when we got our first ultrasound of him; the first time we saw his little body developing and he had limbs and as soon as the camera was on him he stretched out all the way, all of a sudden – a real live critter, just starting out; strong heartbeat, good vitals, our future son.

And that connection, that memory of the not too distant past (though it feels like a world away) flooded me with appreciation and emotion for this moment tonight.

I thanked God for this life, portly though I may currently be, and I’m just…happy. I’m content. I prefer the abilities of skinny Cliff and am working to get back to that, but to keep my spirit. Same body, a little leaner; same spirit, always growing.

Living the dream, baby.

 

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Three Months…!

Good-ness.

THREE MONTHS!

It’s been three months since one world ended and another began.

Two days old...
Two days old…
Just shy of three months in this'un.
Just shy of three months in this’un.

Dadgummit…makes me misty already…

He’s been with us for three months. I remember thinking three days was a big deal and then three weeks.

His personality is definitely emerging (as are his vocal talents) and…it’s just amazing.

Life just keeps barreling on.

Jenn started back at her job this week after taking off a whole year to aid in Nightstorm’s conception and to allow her a little more time with him.

I’m taking this and next week off from work to help a bit with the transition as well as furthering my own career transition out of the Navy in just a couple more months(!).

And this week we’re getting an idea of what it’s like to have someone else watch our kid for the day while we both work. Spoiler alert: it’s weird.

It’s good in that it’s her parents, so the boy is already getting some good multi-generational exposure in there, but still. To think that he’ll be spending the majority of his days now with people other than his parents.

Jenn felt the melancholy more than I did, at first, because she’s been with him all day everyday (with the exception of a couple date nights and a spa day) since he popped out of her very own body. And her body continues to nourish him, day in and day out – talk about an intimate bond…

But then, this morning I felt it, too. Getting him ready, putting him in the car seat, driving him to his grandparents’ house. A part of me wanted to call and cancel, to say that I’ll be spending time with my son today and everyday the rest of my vacation time. Thing is, it’s just not practical.

Even though I’m off from my day job, I’ve got to hustle a bit to ensure that my next step is ready and generating income. I mean, I’ll have income from the G.I. Bill when I go back to school at UH, but in trying to supplement that with the dream I’ve pursued since I was in middle school in trying to get published through crowdfunding; it’s taking a lot of work – work I can’t necessarily do with an adorable, yet needy, little/big munchkinboy hanging out with me. And then first full week of August I’m back in the office again anyway.

I don’t know about Jenn, but I think what I’m feeling is a sense of failure. Our family unit is unable to stay together throughout the day; Stormy has to be with someone other than his nuclear family because we can’t afford to be a single-income family.

But then I realize that this is actually the norm – the state of the American dream, I reckon. It’s how I was raised, by babysitters and daycare supervisors before I was in school and then afternoons after school, waiting to be picked up; during the summer months, too, until I was old enough to be a latchkey kid.

And for the first time I really understand what the debate about paid family leave is all about and I have a sudden urge to relocate to Iceland or Sweden.

Nevertheless I am grateful for in-laws who love their grandbaby and spending time with him, so for them it’s no chore.

I look forward to a time where it doesn’t have to be this way, but if grandma and grandpa can babysit so mom and dad can have lovey-dove fun time that’d be great.

Some days these next couple of weeks I will be staying home and looking after Stormy all day to get a feeling of what it may be like to work from home should my writing or video production career take off.

Sometimes when he starts getting fussy or needy and clingy I want to teach him independence and how to lay the ju-do smackdown on feelings and such. But then when my picking him up calms him, or when he flashes that precocious, half-smile my damn heart melts to gooey-gooey blood sauce confections.

Three months…where will he be in three years? In three decades?

Making the world a better place, I hope.

Four Years

Four years ago to the day my life was about to change in ways I never imagined.

I boarded the plane in Baltimore, had a six hour delay in Chicago, and at 11ish PM Friday, July 13, 2012, I set foot in Honolulu for the first time in 23 years.

When I was eight years old my family spent our summer vacation here for just shy of two weeks, I think. We landed in Honolulu, spent the night here, then flew to Maui the next day for a few days, then to the Big Island for a few days, then back to Oahu for the last few days before heading back East.

I have a handful of solid memories but mostly just impressions from that trip:

Marveling at the lava flow on Big Island.
Running around a golf course at midnight on Maui and helping bullfrogs learn to fly.
Sparrows flying into the rooftop restaurant on Oahu.
Being afraid that the roof of any of the inter-island Aloha airline planes we rode would come off like it did a few months before.
Chewing sugarcane for the first time.
Watching my first Indiana Jones movie – The Last Crusade – at a drive-in movie theater.
Marveling at the hula ladies…

Even then I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something magical about this place.

Twenty-seven years later, after four years of living here I still can’t.

The Aloha Spirit.

Ohana.

The verdant landscape.

First scenic shot. Taken on my birthday, July 29, 2012.
First scenic shot. Taken on my birthday, July 29, 2012.

The very earth itself brimming with life and vitality.

There’s just something magical, mystical; old yet fresh about this place.

While I’m not a fan of the population density on Oahu, I always feel like I’m back home whenever I return from a trip somewhere else (with the exception of The Big Island – I always feel like I’m going back home whenever I visit there).

Four years ago today, I had no idea what I was getting myself into; what with my assignment at a joint command, my first duty station usually reserved for no lower than E-5s, maybe an E-4 soon to be promoted, yet there I was, an E-3.

2013 shot - doing background work for an episode of Hawaii Five-0
2013 shot – doing background work for an episode of Hawaii Five-0

And little did I know how much of the world I was about to see.

I thought boot camp and “A” School busted open my worldview…

Cumulatively six months in Southeast Asia and the South Pacific.

A month and some change in Europe and then a couple months on a couple glaciers.

I feel as though I’ve certainly aged, but I also feel as though I’ve gotten a little younger somehow…

Started making real-life grown-up decisions on my own, being as far away as one can be from friends and family before you start going back around.

In 2014 I met, dated, and married this gem of a lady. Best initiative I ever took.
In 2014 I met, dated, and married this gem of a lady. Best initiative I ever took.

Knowing what I know now there are some things I wouldn’t have done, but I don’t really regret anything. It all goes into that worldview I was talking about before.

I’ve learned not to grasp things too tightly for too long, so I’ve learned to cherish the present moments even more.

Entering the service and giving up many freedoms have helped me appreciate and value freedom even more; I feel more a free man than I ever have.

Nov. 2015 - Barking Sands Beach, Kauai. Living life and learning to live with Jenn. Loving almost every second of it.
Nov. 2015 – Barking Sands Beach, Kauai. Living life and learning to live with Jenn. Loving almost every second of it.

I met my wife and my kid was born here.

Where will I be in four more years? No clue.

Probably still around. Maybe about to head elsewhere; who knows?

Until then I just keep doing what I do everyday: take it one day at a time.

There is A LOT going on this year, but the arrival of this little guy is by the far the most epic.
There is A LOT going on this year, but the arrival of this little guy is by the far the most epic.

Moving Along

So, Father’s Day came and went…

The weekend came and went…

…except it didn’t.

I’m on leave! Woo-hoo!

I’ve taken this week (and a couple more over the course of the summer) to give myself some time to work on stuff for life post-Navy*.

I’ve got a short film to finish up.

I have a 13-part novel series to properly start.

I have a local biz commercial production company to promote and ad to finish for a client.

Not too much; no pressure; easy peasy, yeah?

The short film is a goofy little comedy I wrote, directed, and am still producing. It’s these three guys playing D&D who then accidentally summon an actual golem when using what they think is a crazy rare edition of the Monster Manual.

My original goal for it was to enter it into the MyRodeReel online film contest, but that fell through when I couldn’t get it done in enough time. That’s fine, because the main stipulation for the contest was to enter a film which would be under three minutes in length. The material I’m working with is going to be a bit longer than that…

It was a lot of fun to shoot. I got the cast and crew together for one afternoon/night of shooting. I do wish I’d taken a little more time, but the location was only available for a very limited time…though reshoots aren’t totally out of the question…I dunno; I’m just ready to have it done. We’ll see what the story requires.

13-part novel series – The Baker’s Dozen! If you know me at all outside of this blog you know I’ve been working at working on this thing for a while now. It’s still hot in my brain and I’ve started gathering all my notes and whatnot and trying to organize it. I’m also trying to get all this other stuff done so I can attack it as unfettered as possible.

Father’s Day was nice. Being a father to an almost-two-month-old makes me feel as though I barely qualify (especially considering how grumpy I can be at 2AM changing a diaper) but, still. Jenn okayed the purchase of a 48” TV that was on sale at the BX and got me a bottle of my (and hers) favorite wine (which we thought was discontinued but miraculously reappeared at the Diamondhead Market) as well as some delicious gourmet chocolates.

I spent most of the day at home with Stormy as Jenn ran some errands and watched a couple father-themed movies (The Royal Tenenbaums, The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade). I cooked myself a steak and potato (preceded with a salad), and enjoyed the day.

In the evening after finally getting Stormy to sleep we went halfsies on a Greek salad, enjoyed that Red Eruption wine and chocolates while watching Silicon Valley and Last Week Tonight.

The whole day and night ended with Stormy sleeping on top of me on the couch for about four hours before gas and diaper moisture got the best of him and Jenn relieved me.

Okay… I give up… #fathersday #myboy #specialmoments #disgustinglysentimental #idontcare

A photo posted by Cliff (@thecliffbailey) on

This morning I slept through my alarm and missed my new workout time with my good buddy Josh (who also stars as the titular character in The Golem’s Curse) but managed to eventually make it out to the gym on my own and now here I am at Starbucks blogging my eyes out.

I had in mind to try and talk about some heavy spiritual or social issue stuff, but I don’t really feel like it right now. However, I am a little overdue for a blog posting, so I guess this is just one of those “day-in-the-life” posts, or a “here’s what’s up with me” thing.

Just trying to carve out time for stuff like this is a challenge, but I’m getting there.

*NOT AN OFFICIAL SPOKESPERSON FOR THE DOD, DON, OR ANYONE EXCEPT THE STAFF OF THECLIFFBAILEY.COM WHICH IS THE CLIFF BAILEY OF HONOLULU

My Faith Story – An overview

 

On a Sunday morning it seems appropriate to write/talk about faith.

I never really know where to start when talking about it, though. For instance, what do I have to say that hasn’t already been said?

My main inspirations for this are from a couple other blogs I read – Jamie the Very Worst Missionary and Addie Zierman’s blog. It also comes from The Liturgists Podcast and even a bit of You Made It Weird With Pete Holmes.

A really big push came when I finished reading Addie Zierman’s first book, When We Were On Fire, A Memoir of Consuming Faith, Tangled Love, and Starting Over. That was late last year and the motivation ultimately fizzled. But now I’m in the midst of reading her second book, Night Driving, and I’m finding the inner compulsion welling up again.

Her first book, When We Were On Fire, especially resonated because I felt as though I was reading my own personal history of growing up as an ON FIRE FOR CHRIST teenage crusader; that is, were I a female and had I grown up in the Midwest instead of being a dude growing up in North Carolina.

JUMP!!!
“Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog” by Caspar David Friedrich. Feelin’ this every now and then…

I grew up going to church every Sunday. Once I hit youth group age Wednesday nights were thrown into the mix. The more I started learning about God, the more I became afraid of him.

I distinctly remember in the summer of ’93, we were having a rash of thunderstorms and tornadoes tearing up the piedmont. Whenever a severe storm or tornado warning was issued for our area, I’d go outside and walk into the middle of our neighborhood circle and bargain with God to just hit me and leave my family’s home – and the neighbors’ – alone. My conscience was just so saturated with guilt and fear, and for some reason I’ve always associated weather conditions with God’s immediate presence, that I was sure in those thunderstorms he was gunning for me.

A couple years later I attended my church denomination’s tri-annual youth conference, LIFE ’95. In one of the last large meetings I felt God’s love for the first time. It was the first time I felt no judgment; only love, forgiveness, and as if an enormous weight I didn’t even know was there was suddenly lifted from my soul.

Fast-forward eleven years…I’m in therapy to try and hash out some detectable, but indiscernible emotional issues.

I had been through the height of the True Love Waits movement in which the lesson I took away from it was that my natural, budding, sexual urges were sinful – or could lead to sin. After all, just thinking about having sex was a sin (often citing, and I believe misusing Matthew 5:28).

After considering going to a Christian college I went to East Carolina University instead. I got some advice from an author I admired at the time, John Fischer (just discovered he’s still writing (of course he is!)), asking which would be wiser. He said that if I really wanted to see what my faith was made of, go to the secular school.

Within those four years I experienced a few significant firsts: disillusionment with the Church; abandoning God; sex; grace in a new way; severe self-loathing.

You see, I could have chosen to remain in a Christian bubble, similar to what I had at home, but I decided against that.

And then I moved back home.

It wasn’t long before I found myself cycling between backsliding believer and Bible-thumping asshole.

The jobs I worked at got me further into the real world with the people who I worked alongside and there was more dissonance I felt between being told I should spread God’s good news of unconditional love and yet remain separate from the sinfulness of wicked sinners – especially homosexuals. Shoot, the guy I could most relate to at my first job out of college was gay*. When I worked at a Barnes & Noble café a few years later, one of the shift leads was gay and we’d always, well (heh, heh) have a gay** old time singing showtunes and such toward the ends of our shifts.

As a young adult, the deeper I’d get into the Western Church Machine, the more I found myself despondent, despairing, and ultimately depressed. I couldn’t do anything right. Anything I would do right wouldn’t be me, because God gets all the glory. The only thing I could take credit for was everything I did wrong, and everything I’d do wrong would keep me from knowing God, so just try/pray/read your Bible harder, harder, harder.

Not exactly grace.

So yeah, therapy. First time I was ever told all that was bullshit and that I’m enough as I am. The kernel was planted in my spirit, and has been budding more and more in the last few years, that I will never arrive and be who I was meant to be. I arrived in July of 1980, in all my perfectly flawed glory, and the Darkness got to work (as is wont to happen to all of us who breathe, eat, and shit). But the Light – the Light has always been there, too. And always will be.

I was in therapy for three years, read a bunch of books (I recommend The Ragamuffin Gospel and No Man Is An Island), and went on to make the same damn mistakes…but this time with tools and strategies – a humble way of saying, “the beginning of wisdom” – to augment the ever-present Light and deal with the never-leaving Darkness.

What really helped put things in perspective was my first marriage. Yeah, Jenn’s my second marriage.

That first time out was my last time trying to do things by the book. At the expense of my identity and who I am, I tried following the teachings put out by modern evangelicals instead of trusting my gut. The result was one week of attempted happiness followed quickly by about five months of agony.

Granted, I probably shouldn’t have rushed into it the way I did, but I was sure that if I followed the modern teachings rooted in ancient wisdom everything would turn out okay.

And this is a very generalized telling of the story in extremely broad strokes, but it’s the essence of my experience and how I processed it. It was enough to get me to abandon the system and just go after some freakin’ happiness.

And here I am. Maybe you’ve seen the previous posts in this blog, maybe you haven’t (I’d recommend it for context), but I’m happier and more content with this life than I ever have been.

I still believe in God and Jesus, but I’m finding a need for some serious rethinking on concepts and doctrine; the true depths of mercy, grace, sin, and love.

So, I don’t know what follow-ups to this post will look like, but the door is opened now.

And does any of this resonate with you? Just curious…

Credit: Door Kickers on Facebook
Credit: Door Kickers on Facebook

*adjective, gayer, gayest.

1.

of, relating to, or exhibiting sexual desire or behavior directed towarda person or persons of one’s own sex; homosexual:

a gay couple.

 

**5.

Older Use. having or showing a merry, lively mood:

gay spirits; gay music.

6.

Older Use. bright or showy:

gay colors; gay ornaments.

7.

Older Use. given to or abounding in social or other pleasures:

a gay social season.

 

 

Dang Lucky (or: “Hashbrown: Blessed”)

Let’s see…

This is the tipping point, usually, where I’ve started a blog, pump out a handful of decent posts, then futz out.

Well, it’s about telling stories.

Love
Hasn’t even been a month, but already feels like a lifetime ago.

The last post is the video story of Jenny’s and my trip to the Big Island last summer. It was a lot of fun and I tried to convey that in the editing of the footage. If you haven’t already, check it out.

And then the preceding posts have been stories about our son, Nightstorm. I don’t feel like there’s much to say there in the way of interesting blog posts, suffice to say we’re still battling the wretched rash of his poor heinous anus (and I think we’re winning), and that he’s freaking huge compared to the size he was when he was born. I mean, geez. He eats, sleeps, poops/pees, repeat.

I think he’s starting to make eye contact now, though, and each day we’re learning a little more of his personality.

Jenn and I are trying to figure out how to make him join our program and not make everything all about him.

I mean, he’s a helpless little squirt, but he’s almost a month old now. Regardless of whether we’re starting to train him in certain behaviors, I think it’s good for us to start communicating with him now as we will when he’s a year old, two years, seven years, 18, and on and on and on. Sometimes it seems as though he’s testing us with little cries to see how fast one of us responds.

From the previous Storm-centric posts there has been much improvement. For me, in the aforementioned attitude shift, and we’ve had a few more visitors which I think has improved Jenn’s morale; not to mention that we’re learning ol’ Stormy better, too.

It would seem that every time something new surfaces which alarms either, if not both, of us, it’s something completely normal for newborns and infants. I’m also convinced that a significant amount of pediatrician visits are more for the parents’ state of mind than anything having physiologically to do with the baby.

So now, when something happens, we don’t immediately freak out; we google it, check multiple sources, and go from there. It’s a real mind over matter thing. Watching your progeny experience apparent distress and possible trauma only to find out its gas and all newborns deal with it for a while as their intestines figure out how to work. He may scream and wail, but unless other indicators are present, all you have to do is try and soothe him. Could be gas relief drops do the trick, or the sound of a running faucet, or holding him in a different position.

And to learn that the heinous anus isn’t uncommon was something of a relief, too.

Really, a lot of it is learning that we’re not the only ones who’ve gone through this stuff. I mean, humanity has teemed with staggering numbers for millennia before now, so of course we’re not the only ones; but it’s the specifics of the challenges we face, hearing from a friend how they went through the same thing; or reading an article or messages in a mommy forum, seeing them describe, word-for-word, how you’ve described your own child’s situation. Were it not comforting it’d be freakin’ eerie.

When you feel like you’re the only one facing something, when you feel isolated and all alone, that’s when despair and depression can set in. Whether you’re one of two new parents (or a single one for that matter), recovering from a drug addiction, or just trying to make it through the workday in a toxic environment.

It’s this incalculable value in community I’ve seen demonstrated time and again, moreso ever since leaving North Carolina, my home, six years ago. Cary will always hold  special place in my heart, but now Hawaii is my home. It’s not just where Jenn and I hang our hats; it’s the friendships we’ve established here and the family she has that I’m a part of now.

Before I met Jenn, I never imagined I’d want to call Oahu home. It’s too crowded, traffic sucks, and everything is so freakin’ expensive (especially real estate). But then we met, we fell in love, and I’ve found that I miss this place whenever I travel elsewhere. We are considering relocation in the next few years, but we’ll see where we are as a family by then.

Huh – look at that. A blog post did manage to come out.

A couple other things I want to touch on…pursuing my dream of being a content creator; last summer I started up my production company and gave it a real go. Had a paying client and everything.

As you might imagine, though it worked, it wasn’t smooth at all. Many times I considered throwing in the towel. However, do you know that thing about when people tell you that if you quit something you wanted and the desire keeps coming back then it’s probably something you should pursue anyway? That’s what keeps happening here.

I keep coming back to producing videos, to writing, to filmmaking. I can now, truly say from experience, that failure is good – failure is great!

I delineated a ton of lessons from the experiences of my initial venture and am applying them now to PHAZON MEDIA! I did a lot of things right with The Bailey Adventure, but a lot of things wrong, too; things I wouldn’t have thought of had I not even tried it. So I tried it, succeeded on a level, failed on another, picked up the pieces and here we go again, a little wiser, a little braver, a little more daring.

Shucks, if it weren’t for all failures in my life I never would have moved to Ohio, gotten dumped, enlisted in the Navy*, wound up in Hawaii, and three years later be in a happy marriage with an adorable baby!

And each day still has a healthy amount of failures! Sometimes I cuss and fuss, but I always take time afterward to reflect and learn. I learn how to better communicate with Jenn; I learn how thoughtless I can be and then how I can be more thoughtful. I learn the veracity of the saying: “Bees are attracted to honey, not vinegar.” I learn to let love guide my actions more often than fear and suddenly the world seems a little less nasty; always broken and busted, but less nasty and a wee bit more beautiful.

So, in addition to learning how to husband and dad, I’m learning how to get my business going; I’m learning more about the creative process, about the daily life process. I learn to value and love my wife more as she believes I can handle all of this and I’m blown away when she lets me sleep through the night so I can be better prepared for my physical fitness test, or go off on some Saturday afternoon (today) not just to get the car looked at, but also to catch up on my writing. Not only that, but her willingness to go along with my decision to leave a secure job in the Navy to go back to school to pursue my lifelong dream of writing and filmmaking.

Okay – I’m rambling here, but I can never run out of ways to express how I love my wife. She ain’t perfect, far from a paragon of any kind, but dadgum, she’s perfect for me; somehow she thinks I’m perfect for her, too.

Dang.

*still not an official spokesperson for the U.S. Navy, Dept. of the Navy, Dept. of the Defense, and all opinions and such don’t reflect them, etc.