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do good things by ABMann

Dad liked my usb typewriter.

Thanksgiving come and gone. It was quiet this year. We went from three families to just the one, me and my Dad. The introverts. It was sedate with a steady cooking cadence that felt like mastery over Side Dish Logistics. Nothing burned. Everything offering a warm comfort simultaneously.

Dad was chill, bouncing between football updates and asking me about house and home. He has always been delicate trying to discover me. I don’t get that given my lasting memory of his candor, usually born from a need for simplicity. But he did ask in a gentle way about things never before discussed.

"Don’t worry, I’m a weirdo too" was how he reassured me when asking about Shibari, about processing hemp, about my market for Bunny Rope. He appreciates my approach to my business as well as my plan, both entrenched in the simplicity he taught me. It resonated with him, with us both, when talking about dye chemistry and my inability to comprehend selling rope that could dye your hands just from picking it up. Do good things, carefully, not too quickly.

"As a parent, you always wonder what else you could or should have noticed." My tattoo, which he learned more about because others were less timid to discuss it with me, represented harder times in my life. Times when, like thanksgiving, it was just us bouncing between football and commentary but I had something more sharp than typical teenage angst trying to cut through my identity. He knew. He didn’t know. Who could have known what was really in my mind? I told him it wasn’t his fault, it was me and the dreadful people I surrounded myself with. But it was his advice that led me to the right college, the right light at the end of the tunnel, I told him.

"But it is unexpectedly gratifying to see what your kids become."

Left unsaid but as plain as the tears in both our eyes, the guilt over not acting more overtly.

Guilt is self inflicted. I know these things: Do good things, carefully, not too quickly. You let me be me how I needed to be me when I needed to be me.

Don’t worry, I’m a weirdo too.

Traveling. Energy. Creativity. by ABMann

And a haiku for the house.

 

I’m regularly exercising again and I’m traveling for work right now which has a curious affect on me, the combination of the two.  

Exercise lightens my mood in a (medical) textbook way.  My brain moves quickly, focuses well, makes connections, and keeps me pleasant.  I view myself and the world about me with a particular clarity and easiness I feel is generally reserved for runners and buddhists.  I am in the world.

When traveling, I feel surprisingly less-stressed, (even) better organized, and productive.  This is especially true when I have a few things to work on back at the office that I can do remotely.  Working from a hotel is surprisingly engrossing, something about the different setting keeps me lively.  I am about the world.

Of late, I’ve been feeling tis bubbling need to do something large and creative and being on the road has given me more time to think about it.  It feels like it wants to be a treatise of some sort, something longer and over-arching, touching on themes I’ve been recently thinking about regarding my favorite aspects of my life- buddhism, self-presentation, quality, privacy law, and productivity.  Which, take together, looking mostly unrelated.

I am not sure they are necessarily related, or should be.

But I feel like i want to write a book about something in there.

     Or make a podcast.

     Or go to law school.

     Or just do something that brings together all of the things that I care about in my day to day.

I’m not sure how to tease it out either.  I vaguely expect that, as I think and write and read on any and all of these things that I’ll have that magic Aha! moment when some final connection happens in a conversation and I’ll have it.

Similarly, I feel like I should be funneling all this… I don’t know.. Glamour into Bunny Rope but that feels… misguided. I have so many interested and they’re so disparate.

How do you work through that fog to clarify what the Thing is supposed to be?