January 2, 2010



I have often considered myself a relatively sane, level-head person. Well I did until I started having children. I cannot blame my instability completely on the fact that I have children, however, I can pinpoint some of my irrational behavior to an eight year old girl and a soccer field. Yes, I am sorry to say that I am/was that guy. "Isn't that raving maniac over there Amanda's dad?" "He used to be so...I don't know, sane...shield the eyes of the women and children." I do not know how I ended up in this place. What is the definition of insanity--doing the same thing over and over, and expecting a different outcome?! Every game I attend my intention is to just watch and enjoy the game, but instead I am possessed by a crazy man. Short of stripping naked and beating myself with a small sapling, while saying hail Mary's knelling and whipping myself as I crawl on my knees over each broken glass covered step. I try, or should I say I attempt to check myself. I say, "Self, let's try not to embarrass your bride or your daughter or the city of Esko this time." But by the end of the game, as I awaken in a stupor from the latest breakdown, and witness the wreckage and realize that I failed again. So I have decided to do what all people with problems not easily solved…journal. My hope is to venture into my psyche over the next weeks, months, or whatever and address this quirk of character. I hope you will join me in this quest.