A Day on My Own

My wife and Child went to Calgary for the week. I was working nights and sleeping for half the week, but now I'm done, and they're still gone.
One word to describe being alone: Lonely.
One word to describe my house with no one it: Depressing.
One word to describe life without Chelsee and Derby: The Worst!

Yesterday was my first day completely alone without the need for sleep or the obligation of work. At first, I was excited. I sometimes daydream about having no responsibilities or expectations; I could just be me doing whatever I want. Well, today was that day.

So what should I do?

I decided to go to Starbuck's to do some writing. On the way there, I imagine myself getting lost in my story. I picture all three of my notebooks, full to brim with pretty blue ink forming beautiful, perfectly constructed sentences that ooze with emotion. The barista mopping the floor beside my table sneeks a peek at my writing and starts weeping as she sits down to tell me how perfect my writing is. She calls everyone around and they all ask me for my autograph, except for one man who is smoking a pipe and wearing a bow-tie. "I'm going to publish this book," he tells me, and I start dancing in circles and buying 26 dollar notebooks from Chapter's.
When I got there, I ordered a Grande Caramel Steamer, sat down, put on Kelly Clarkson's new song on my ipod and started to write. An hour and half later, I had 2 and a half pages finished and felt like every creative drop in me had been dried up, a wrinkly old raisin on the floor.
I went to go look at books. I couldn't even smell the potential today, so I left.

The next part of my day...is nerdy. But for me it was fun. Did you ever watch "Stranger than Fiction" with Will Ferrel? He gave me the idea.
I drove home, went inside to grab the biggest book I had, "The Children's Book," a huge hardcover that Chelsee gave me for my birthday, and I walked to the nearest bus stop. I sat on the bench reading my book and when the bus came, I sat on the bus reading my book. For three hours, I rode the bus all across town. It stopped for a break downtown and then all the way to the northwest, before going all the way to the southe east.
I heard one old lady tell the same story to the girl beside her three times. "I looked for my bank card this morning," she said, "I used it yesterday, so I know I have it, but I couldn't find it today. I don't know what happened, I had it yesterday....and so on and so on." Litteraly three times. Later, a young punk sat in one of the elderly spots, and an old man got mad at him, even though there were five other elderly spots.
I watched the bus driver staring at me in the rear view mirror. "Who is this freak?" his eyes were saying. "Why don't you just get lost? Are you going to try to hijack the bus? Are you going to try to stab me? What is your problem?" He was very good at asking questions with his eyes. At one point it was just me and him in the bus, and I almost got off at the other end of the city; I couldn't handle the holes he was burning. I just stuck my nose in my book to ignore him, and eventually he relaxed. These are the adventures anyone could have if they only rode the bus more often.
I got off at the University and went to write some more in the big cafeteria. I ended up getting in quite a groove and got almost 2 hours of straight writing in.

I went to visit my mom and dad at their house.
I went to visit my sister and her daughters at her house.
I went to visit Maxx, my brother-in-law, at his house.
I did everything I could think of to stay away from my dark and lifeless house. If home is where your heart is, my home has been in Calgary for the past week, and it sucks when your home is so far away from where you are.

In the evening, I went with Maxx to go play Basketball at the church. I was excited. I played in highschool. The reason I was 145 lbs in highschool was because we ran up and down that basketball court like a billion times every practise. We could fly across the court. We were always the shortest team in our league with maybe one guy reaching the 6 foot mark, but we worked hard and ran around like crazy people, and we could compete.
I may have been running like a crazy person yesterday, but it wasn't fast and sure wasn't for long. Before the first mini game was over, I was weezing like a whoopie cushion. Ya know when you run outside when it's cold and when you breath in after a while your chest starts burning? That's how I felt after 15 minutes of running. I just wanted to find a small hole to crawl into and cry myself to sleep. The problem was, whenever I took a break and sat on the side, I could feel every muscle in me tightening and locking, holding me down on the bench like a lock and chain. We played for more than 2 hours and by the end, I was practically walking up and down the court. I couldn't even laugh without starting to cough all over the place.
I had fun. I made a few shots here and there. I missed a lotta shots here, there and Everywhere. I got to see a few old friends, and I got some excercise. Afterward, Maxx and Nolan, my other brother-in-law, and I went to Boston Pizza and ended up talking until after Midnight.

All I can say is I'm glad Chelsee and Derby are coming home tonight. While I made the best of the time I had to myself, nothing is the same without them. They are the love of my life.

Thanks for reading.

The Epiphany

Today's Weight: 206 lbs

Goal Weight: 175 lbs

October 11th, I turned 25. The problem with you're 25th birthday is that you're turning 25. I know you're not 'old', but there's no excuses after 25. The frontal lobe of your brain is fully developed, so you should be able to reason just fine. There are no more excuses. You should have things figured out.

To the outsider looking in on my life, I may look to have it all together. I have:

1. A beautiful wife, Name: Chelsee
2. A perfect little boy, Name: Derby Blue
3. A house
4. Two cars
5. A job that pays enough to live comfortably enough

However, since high school I have gained almost seventy pounds. I remember Christmas day during my Senior year of high school, somebody got a new scale, one of my sisters probably. Who knows why anyone would want one, but I took it up to the bathroom, and I weighed myself: 145 lbs, the beautiful little blue numbers blinked brightly. I was the man. I hopped off the little scale, stood in front of the mirror, and flexed my teenaged muscles all over the place.

Today, though, if I were to do the same, the blue numbers would blink 206 lbs, and the mirror would not see any muscles flexed; it would see a beer belly desperately trying to pull itself back in line with its long lost friends, my ribs.

Since high school I have become an angry old man. Not the angry old man that hobbles down the road with his cane, spitting at on-coming pedestrians and smoking the butts of cigarettes scattered around the bus stops, but the angry old man that grumbles under his breath when his Big Mac takes more than 3.5 minutes to appear at the window. The angry old man that sticks up his middle finger when someone honks at him for cutting them off. The angry old man that checks his watch every 2.3 minutes from the time he places his order at Pizza Hut to the time the waiter sets his Pepperoni and Bacon in front of him. The angry old man that yells at those young punks who yell and scream in a drunken stupor at a football game. The angry old man who gets pissed off when someone puts ice in his Coca-Cola or if they don't put enough sugar in his coffee at Starbucks. The angry old man who has rules for when people borrow his books: Don't dog-ear the pages. Don't set it face down to keep your page. Don't mark it in anyway. Have it back in three weeks. I snore, I talk to myself, and I think I'm getting arthritis in my thumbs. Needless to say, I'm an old Bag... at 25.

Of course, every now and then, I can have a good time. I watch football with the boys or have a game of golf a few times a summer. My wife and I get a sitter and go to the movies semi-frequently.

What I'm trying to say is, I'm 25, and I'm starting to feel like my life is on the decline. If the hill is my life then I've arrived at the top, spent nearly no time there at all, and I've decided to take a running start on the way down. In the past week, my wife has asked me, "Why is our life so boring? What do other people do to make sex more fun? Are we going to anything fun today? I wish we had more friends that we could go out with." The last one isn't a question, but she's telling me, over and over again that our life is boring, almost every aspect of it.

So, I've decided to do something about it. I am going on a diet. I am going to buy a book of sex positions. I am going to try something new this weekend; I don't know what that is yet, but I'm going to think of something. By my 26th birthday, I am going to be hot, skinny, young and adventurous; people won't recognize me. I'm gonna jaywalk and I'm gonna do donuts in my car. I'm going to drink more and go to more parties. I'm going to introduce myself to new people and talk to strangers on the bus. My kid is going to think I'm the greatest Dad in the world. "My dad is cooler than your dad" is all he's going to say. My wife will not be bored, she'll be begging me to relax. When I have reached my goal weight, I am going to buy a new suit, a young suit with pin stripes and a form-fitting vest, and I am going to take my wife out somewhere we've never gone, some place expensive.

AND I'm going to blog about all of it, Every day.

I only hope someone out there, will enjoy my adventure as much as I know I'm going to. Thanks for following!