It’s strange that I’d be satisfied sitting around anywhere, doing nothing, yet here we are. It’s comfort and control, peace and power. We are together to be whole, and now we find ourselves whole. Can I complain?

This is a good life. I’m excited to see what happens next.

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There’s something incredible about waking up in the middle of the woods, on the top of a mountain, surrounded by silence and nature. It’s even more amazing when you can pack your car and be back in Los Angeles in less than two hours. We stayed in the communities surrounding Big Bear Lake, and the raw beauty of the landscape, the mountains ringing the expansive lake, and the properties along the coast and dotted upwards along the dirt trails.

I was inspired to spend more of my time outside, breathing good air and making my body sore and tired. I was inspired by the cabin, by the workmanship of the man who built it, and by the honesty of the people who live in it. I was inspired by my beautiful wife to care more about my future and hers, and spend thought and energy not on the wealth and ease of life, but on the quality of life.

Being invincible only lasts so long.

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Suddenly, politics in Washington, technology in Silicon Valley, drama in Raleigh or Los Angeles or Melbourne, FL seems inconsequential and trite. Not that people aren’t worth thinking about, just that my own priorities fall slightly below “not important in the least.”

It’s good to get some real perspective back every once in a while.

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Do you think their eyes or other sensory organs are too small to compare to our own? How would an entire olfactory mechanism, one that takes up entire square inches of space in our own bodies, be reduced to something microscopic? Or an ear? Even the hairs required for flies to feel their way around a surface are nearly as large as a gnat themselves. Can I even understand a scale like that?

Today, someone drove a truck into a crowd of people in France and killed at least 80 human beings. On a global scale, 80 may seem microscopic, negligible, or unimportant. But this night, every single life taken is sorely missed.

The police shootings across the country and snipers in Dallas, the constant suicide bombings in Iraq and Syria, the undocumented mass killings in African and Middle Eastern countries on a nearly weekly basis, these are all the most important, most tragic losses we could experience. I don’t want to imagine how many more will come. I’m afraid of the numbing, the irreconcilable disinterest another breaking news story will have upon me, upon the world.

Don’t let me slap the gnats away without a thought to their mystery.

It’s late. I need to wake up at 3 AM.

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Then I got a little older and figured out that my actions had repercussions and I was accountable to someone in charge. First it was my parents, school, the law, then my jobs. I grew older and wanted someone to share my life with, then realized that my actions can heal and harm intensely. The older I got, the more I wanted to relive the simplicity of never needing to second-guess my decisions, of being utterly at rest in this world.

Now, I don’t want that anymore. I want to be responsible. Not the “responsible adult” or “your actions have consequences” or “set a good example for those younger than you”– those are shallow and momentary requirements. My life should be generational. The milestones I set must ripple throughout the world. I want the things I do to matter more than I can know. Make me responsible for my life, and I will own it.

Thought of the day.

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Maybe not everybody, but certainly the younger generation has felt the grip of weekend never-end, and yearned for their bland cubicle walls to surround them yet again, like a cocoon, or a familiar prison.

Then, Tuesday or Wednesday pops up and slowly, the week is starting to feel less and less welcome. Saturday can’t seem to arrive fast enough. Your weekday nights become emptier, as you prepare mentally and physically for the weekend. Your nights will be longer, so you need your sleep. Your time will rush by…better eat a sandwich and lie half-naked on the couch for three hours. You’ll be going hard for two days with friends or family, so your “me-time” will be limited, and you better get it in now, you lazy gorilla.

Then Friday appears, the day drags through inexorably, and the commute home has 90,000 more cars than usual all merging into your lane. Open your front door, take your pants off, kiss your significant other, and leap directly into whatever the hell you wanna do for the next two-and-a-half days, because you earned it this past week. You know, doing nothing spectacular at all.

Anyway, just what I’m thinking for myself. If you’ve never had these problems, I don’t blame you at all. I guess I’m starting to feel like the whole “Weekend Warrior” thing is stupid if I’m wasting 5/7ths of my life.

Time to be a man, and make better decisions.

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Bring it on, ANKLES. I’m waiting for you.

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Don’t get me wrong, I’m 100% excited, and can’t wait to get out there. Our first day in the state will be April 17th, and Day 1 of work is April 18th, so let’s get this party started.

Boo yah.

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In this case, I’m exploring the concept of stressful situations, how they affect different people differently, and why I do my best to avoid them at all costs, in many cases actually causing additional stress to arise because of my decisions.

Professionally, I’m normally solid and collected during stress. I have trained myself to react thoughtfully, usually be writing down my intentions and gathering meaning and working out situations before jumping headlong into the fray.

In my personal life, I detest complicated predicaments. They seem to me a hinderance to relationships, often destroying friendships, ruining lifelong partners, causing sticky circumstances and vague, meandering nowheres for people to wander about in, feeling unsure of themselves. Obviously it’s impossible to completely remove stress from relationships. Of course I can’t have friends without dealing with other flawed human beings. It’s just that staying removed is a protection. And I like feeling protected, especially by myself.

Having a wife, or really anyone in your life who is part of you, changes things. It makes you vulnerable.

You know how Superman has a secret identity so bad guys can’t hurt the people he loves? That applies to anyone, except the bad guys are hurt and mistrust and selfishness.

To love, wholly and truly, is to make yourself vulnerable, weak, open to attack. It’s the possibility of being hurt immensely, of giving a part of yourself to someone and maybe watching it walk away from you forever. It’s terrifying. It’s worth it.

How did I start yammering about love after talking about stress? Because now that I share my life, I have to open myself up to her concerns, her stresses and fears and worries, and take them, in part, upon myself. My life is hers, and hers, mine. For richer or poorer.

May death come swiftly and with great vengeance if this stress does not disappear after two weeks.

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Basically, I want to start getting back into fixing and finishing old furniture. I used to do it when I had tools at my disposal, but living in an apartment has restricted my carpentry practice, for the most part. Now I have inlaws with a large garage, and must make my way over when I find the time.

Just…someone keeps stealing all my time.

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