Time

It’s a very exciting time to be alive when you are expecting a baby. Everything takes on a new significance. I know I frequently think about what things must have been like the year I was born, and I find myself trying to imagine what it would have been like to live in that time in my parents’ shoes.

And so it is now, I see what the cars look like in the streets, and I see the world changing devices (like this one I am typing on), and I try to imagine what it will be like for this child when they’re all grown into adulthood and watching period movies about this time we are all living in.

A year or two before I was born (in 1972) my dad saved up his pennies and bought himself a fancy new electronic gadget – a handheld pocket calculator. At the time it was hard to imagine such technology, I’m sure. When Cooper was born I’d recently acquired an iPhone. What will be in the next generation’s pockets? Will they even have pockets?

Man, a world without pockets. I fear for the future.

Blogging about blogging

I used to blog all the time. I like blogging. It’s cathartic. It gets stuff off your chest. It takes thoughts out of your head and posts them on the Internet, for all to see. A little like confession, I suppose, though you don’t have to reserve blogging for just the things you are ashamed of.

It’s a self centered activity, though. It’s all about me as I sit here thumbing this into my iPhone. It’s presumptuous. I’m presuming you give a flying fart what I’m writing here. Actually scratch that; because it’s so about me I don’t give a flying fart for your flying fart.

In related news, the air here in my blog is fresh and clean.

When Coop was born, I found I had a lot more priorities and a shrinking amount of time to do them in. The blog sort of fell by the wayside. Oddly, I think my writing actually picked up. I’ve been writing more, but it’s been for self therapeutic reasons. When too much is swimming around in my brain I get out a pen and a letter size notepad and I just write whatever it is out of there without line breaks or paragraphs. It works wonders. Takes me about 15 minutes first thing in the morning and then I’m a better man for it all day.

I’ve never read anything I’ve written that way. As soon as I finish the last sentence, I tear the sheet up and throw it away. The purpose is served, and I don’t want anything incriminating lying around for others to see.

It’s a pity, because I bet there are some fine blog posts in those torn bits of paper.

But I miss the blogging, I really do. And the process of writing and destroying those sheets of paper has reminds me that writing is good for me.