Turning Forty

I love dance. I love it. When I see others doing it, even poorly it fills me all the way up to the top with joy. When I do it, I feel better, fuller, whole. I’m not good at it, but it doesn’t even matter, it’s about connection, movement and happiness.

Magic. The art, the performance, everything about it. It makes my inner child cheer, and I become just the right amount of gullible necessary to really, truly enjoy it.

If you can choose my card from a deck of cards, I honestly wonder how you did it. It’s a beautiful art.

I really dislike the inevitable part of the story in romantic comedy movies that forces the two leads apart, because of a lame misunderstanding. I cannot bear it. It twists my guts all up.

I deeply, respect and admire any person that stands rock solid by a belief or belief system, without waiver or compromise. On the other hand, I have precious little tolerance for those that say they are acting in the name of God, but don’t follow the same advice they are sharing.

I adore watching craftsmen do their thing. When someone really knows what they are doing, and can show others. It’s amazing. It’s a mixture of skill, confidence and humbleness that is hard to find in this world.

I aspire towards it myself, as much as I can. Good examples include Norm Abrams and Bob Ross.

Sometimes I’m misunderstood, and I don’t have the words to better explain myself, and that is OK.

I’ve yet to regret my choices, but often I’ve regretted my behavior.

No matter how long or well you know someone, they can still surprise you, which is both good and bad.

For all my life, I’ve believed that my drive to be a craftsman, to be the best I can be at whatever I do, came directly from Norm Abrams and Bob Ross. Growing up, I was so impressed and fascinated. I had to be like them.

In High School, when other kids watched me draw, rapt with attention, I felt that feeling for the first time.

Today, I realized that even before Norm and Bob, there was a another craftsman in my life, that cared about what he put his name on, and not just the final product, but how he got there. He was right there, and I overlooked him, cause he was right there.

My dad laid floors for almost his entire adult life, and he put his all into those jobs, it was important for him that it was done right the first time, and that the customers never saw the seams.

He had this magic, the same TV magic Bob and Norm had, he’d make those seams disappear, and he’d turn 10 feet of carpet into 12. He was the first craftsman I ever watched, and he was the most important.

I miss him.

Sometimes people are wrong. It’s not my job to correct them.

I need to practice being happy with what I have, instead of yearning for what I don’t.

You can trade ninety minutes on a Sunday for seven days of healthy, properly portioned, heat ’em up meals.

I don’t always have to “stay strong” for the sake of others. It’s OK to be/feel weak or vulnerable any time I need to.

not unlike politics and religion, butt cracks is a topic best not broached on ye ole Farcebook.

Making promises is easy. Keeping them is the hard part.

Negativity breeds sadness, positivity makes everything tolerable.

I don’t like being alone. I’ve never lived alone, and honestly I don’t think I could. Alone is a scary place to be, or maybe I just like company.

Be conservative with your finances, moderate with consumption, liberal with your love, and progressive with personal education and growth.

I find real, genuine joy through witnessing other people’s joyful moments. Not just loved one’s or friends, but straight-up strangers. I find myself in happy tears near daily when seeing or hearing about another’s legit joy. This is my most favorite emotion.