It's Okay

You see these posts on social media that are titled things like 'a list of things for my son' or 'every rule my daughter needs to follow'.  Once they gain momentum on social media sites, it's hard to slow them down.  Then they go away for a bit, then suddenly reappear.  There isn't anything wrong with them.  I usually read through these and get a smile or two out of them.  I have my own list like that.  I call it my 'It's Okay' list.  

It's okay to be the 'work parent'.  Be the person that others go to for advice.  Life advice, work advice, it doesn't matter.  Be the person that younger co-workers go to.  My wife tells me plenty of stories of people she works with that come to her for day in and day out advice.  It helps that she works with people that are ten to twelve years younger than we are.  It gives you the opportunity to be a life mentor without it being a stupid program. 

It's okay to not like 'classics'.  Whether it is movies, books, art, whatever.  It's fine for you to not like something just because it is considered a classic.  There have been several books that are classics that I just didn't like.  'The Sound and the Fury' and 'Tropic of Cancer' to name a few.  Most Hemingway as well.

It's okay for your favorite pop culture item to be something other than a classic.  One of my favorite books I have read is called '44 Dublin Made Me' by Peter Sheridan.  It's his memoir about growing up in Ireland.  Yes, I have my favorite classic books, but it's nice to have a favorite that maybe not everyone has heard of.

It's okay to binge watch an entire season of a show in one day.  Streaming services have made this a possibility the past few years.  Personally, I can sit and watch a few hours worth of television shows but I cannot, on the regular, sit and watch eight or nine episodes of a show in one day.  Sometimes it's nice to escape the day and laze around.

It's okay to spoil yourself.  Sometimes it can be something as small as stopping at Dairy Queen and getting yourself a treat just because.  It can be going out and buying something new like a work outfit, a book, or a case of craft beer.  I have a wedding to go to in the fall and on my last day off, I went out and bought some new dress clothes.  I'm not a huge shopper, but it was fun to do on a day off. 

This last one isn't an 'it's okay', but I'm going to throw it on here.  Everyone should own at least one jazz album.  I'm talking Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Ella Fitzgerald.  Jazz musicians feel music at a whole other level than other musicians.  It's just something you need to hear, and once you do it'll stick with you.  

Cursed Cursive

 'I just hate sitting and writing.  I had to do that in school.  Plus I have terrible handwriting.' -Saul Kripke

Last month, my parents came out while my sister and her family were up for a hockey tournament my nephew played in.  My parents were nice enough to empty their basement of totes of my old stuff.  It was just four or five totes, but they decided since I live just a ten hour car ride away, that I needed to have these in my house.  This is a little bit of bullshit because my sister lived in the same town and yet she had totes in the basement for years and years.  It took her moving to Missouri to get them out of the basement.  Last night, my wife and I went through and weeded some stuff out.  During this fun expedition into my childhood, we found a bunch of my report cards from elementary school.  One thing was constant throughout all the years kindergarten through fifth grade.  My handwriting was (and continues to be) terrible.  Awful.  Cringe worthy.

There is no two ways about this, and I have always known that my handwriting is not the best.  Even when I slowly write things out, I still look at it in amazement at how bad it looks.  My wife makes fun of my signature and even when I take my time writing that it doesn't look great.  Whenever someone comments on my handwriting, I like to tell them the story of my fifth grade teacher (Mrs. Bump).  Granted I don't remember the minute details, all I remember is this one thing.  She said my handwriting was chicken scratch.  Looking back at it, it's funny because it's true but I'm wondering if it was at that point where I was like 'fuck it, this will be how I write from now on.'

Here are some comments from elementary school teachers regarding my handwriting:

• 'Needs improvement and additional practice.' -Mrs. Evans (1st grade) first semester
• 'Showing improvement, but still needs some additional practice.' -Mrs. Evans (1st grade) second semester
• Penmanship grades B, B-, B+, B-.  -Mrs. Campbell (2nd grade)
• Penmanship grades C, B- (Improving), B+, B.  -Mrs. Ware (3rd grade)
• Penmanship grades C-, C+, C, B-.  -Mrs. Bullock (4th grade)
• 'Breathe' (referring to spacing on my cursive writing). -Mrs. Bullock (4th grade)
• Penmanship grades C+, C-, C, D (written in black, pressed hard into the report card).  -Mrs. Bump (5th grade)

Obviously we see a trend of little to no improvement over the course of five years.  In fact, there was quite a sharp decline in fifth grade.  Penmanship has always been the least of my worries.  I struggled all throughout school in subjects like math and science and passing subjects like that was a bit more important than writing clearly.  Let's just not talk about me almost failing math my junior year of high school.  That's another can I don't really want to open.  Like ever.  

Inspired Poetry? Not Really.

With the world going to shit as this overly awful year comes to an end, I would like to point out that there are some fun things on the interwebzzzzz.  One thing is this website if you use Twitter.  It creates a random poem based on the things you have tweeted.  I mean, is it creepy that a website can cultivate through several years of tweets and come up with something in less than a minute?  Absolutely.  Most tweets that this site cultivates from are from the recent past, but still.  But if you think that there isn't access to at least one of your social media accounts without your knowledge, well I just can't help you.

Below is an example of what this website can create.

Freaking hilarious
by Michael Litzner

I would totally agree with her
From Upper Hand Brewery for dinner.
Was holding a fire extinguisher.
Oh Alex Wilson! Paint that corner.
Performance.
World Series' might be sadder...
Hehehehe....Mark Lowe appearance
Anyone want to take the under?
To win championships, I'm on board
Lions won't have a losing season!
Tv and stroke Jake Arrieta's beard.
BUSCH LIGHT SON!
State get rolled tonight. Hard.

Does it make sense?  Not really.  Is it still fun to do?  Absolutely.  I just spent about twenty five to thirty minutes playing with this.  Although 'World Series might be sadder.....hehehehe Mark Lowe appearance' are two great lines.  

Two Paragraph Short Story

Back in college, I took a couple of writing classes.  In retrospect, not the best way to spend money in college, but whatever.  I don't regret taking the classes.  There were many different writing exercises that our professor had to get us to write.  One was to try and write a short story in two to three paragraphs.  It was to try and get the plot across without excessive writing.  It was fun.  It challenged you to leave a little to the imagination of the reader.  To let them try to fill some things in for themselves.  Anyway, here's one I came up with just a couple of days ago.  The idea just popped in my mind and was reminded of this exercise.  Enjoy!

I

Smoke rose from the barrel of the pistol.  The body fell.  My ears rang.  As the blood pooled around my feet, I stepped back.  Jesus fucking Christ.  Oh man, they came out of nowhere.  How did I even wrestle the gun away from them?  Is there anyone else around?  Did anyone see that?  What do I do.  Shit.  shit shit shit shit.  The alley.  They came from the alley.  I should see if anyone else is down there.  It's pretty dark here.  Maybe no one saw it.  Maybe no one saw my face.  Maybe I should call the cops.  Maybe.  Or maybe I should just...leave?  Are they even dead?  Do I check on them?  A step towards them.  Sirens wail in the distance.  Footsteps turn to sprints. 

You

Your hands shake as you ponder how best to go about this.  You're justifying it in your mind.  This is for the family.  Your family.  This will help put food on the table.  For at least one day.  That's your thought anyway.  That's your hope.  You weighed the pros and the cons.  You tell yourself this is a one time thing.  You're close to getting back on your feet financially.  No one will know it was you.  You picked up the gun a few days ago.  You could only afford two bullets.  You waited until it was dark outside.  You hid behind a trash dumpster in an alley.  Footsteps approached.  Alright.  This is it.  Your last thoughts.