OK. Enough is enough. I'm back from this self-inflicted excile.
After sitting down, the weekend before last, and actually reading some of the stuff I've been blogging for the last couple of months, I realized I needed a break. This was getting waay to melodramatic. And I'm not a melodramatic guy. Not extremely, anyway. Or maybe I am. Anyway, I don't want to be. It isn't something I aspire to. And that's what matters.
So I made a promise to myself: The next time you've written another piece of whining, wuzzy zap and are about to hit that 'Publish post' button, take a minute to read it over. If it's whiny, or pretentious, or one more post about putting the trees to sleep for the winter, or if it's something that is libel to hurt someone, or needlessly mess with their peace, don't post it.
And that's what I have been doing for ten days. Writing and throwing away, writing and throwing away. Because I've slowly come to realize something: Whatever you do, has consequences. Sometimes the consequences you aimed for. Sometimes not. Even when you have the noblest intentions, and are the purest at heart, the consequences can be quite the opposite.
I'll tell you what prompted this.
On that weekend, ten days ago, we had a sudden downpour. My daughter and I were playing here at home, and I thought 'Wouldn't it be fun if we went out and danced ini the rain?' We don't have rain like this were I come from, you see. Not this pouring-down-like-a-water-from-a-faucet kind of rain. Plus, here the rain is warm. Usually. And that was actually the thing. It turns out it is October already. And nobody told me. So it isn't that warm anymore. Now, that did not really register with me as I danced around in the rain with my daughter. She didn't complain, either. Well, she almost never does, anyway. But as I was taking her back inside, quite a while later, I suddenly realized that she was cold. Really, really cold. Still laughing. But cold. So I took her inside, we took of the drenched clothes, dried off and changed into something dry. But she was still cold. Even shivering. Then she sneezed. And then it hit me.
Here I had been doing something for my daughter that I knew she would like. It felt comletely innocent, and good. But it wasn't good for her. I know that sounds naïve. And of course I know I shouldn't allow her to do everything she wants to. And I don't. Which is actually the whole point. I am not like this, generally. I am usually the responible one. The solid-as-a-rock one. Dependable. Granted, I am impulsive, and passionate, and spontaneous, and I live in the now. But I have subdued those impulses to the point where 'reckless' really is not a description of me.
She got sick, developed a cold. I know that you don't get a cold from being cold, per se, but I felt miserable all the same. And I started to think that I needed to pay more attention to what I was doing. You don't just go off and do something reckless with people you love, even if it feels good and right, if you should know that it isn't good for them. No matter how short life is. Right?
Anyway. I promised myself that I wouldn't blog until I found something really mundane to blog about. Something to get my feet back on the ground. And now I have. What I found, is a real-life red-neck who actually has something to say. Isn't that remarkable? Here is a guy, on the red-neck radio program "Imus in the morning", waxing on about his parents living in this trailer and yada-yada yodely-yoo, when all of a sudden he actually starts to make sense. And it turns out that he really is not half-stupid. In fact, he's quite intelligent, and amusing, and well-read!
I just had to tell you. I found the only non-stupid red-neck in existence. And his name is Craig Crawford.