January 2, 2017. It has been more than a year -- two? -- since I’ve written anything. So much has happened. I bought a house. I bought two cars. I have a baby girl. I’m a dad. I quit my startup. I let go of my youthful dreams. I settled for an unambitious job.
It pays the bills.
And there are bills. Doors close. Branches wither. I’m reaching 40.
But I can still write. I can put words down. Words that don’t string together, don’t sing together, don’t mean anything in particular. For now, I just want to put words down. I want to hear my voice again, because I don’t recognize the person I’m becoming.
I have a job. A car. A wife. A daughter. A house. A fistful of unremarkable years.
I haven’t been completely honest with myself, hence my silence. Of course, there are thoughts that I consider worthy -- interesting even -- to put into words, but my mind is a wasteful and lazy organ. Wasteful because the cost of forgetting is lower than the reward of permanence. Lazy because there are a thousand and one mundane things to do instead
Clean the dishes. Wash the laundry. Play the video games. Watch TV. Watch Netflix. Watch movies. Watch basketball.
Where is my voice? Where has it gone? I don’t recognize this person that I’m becoming.
I pay the bills. I fix the broken things around the house. The portable AC unit for my daughter’s room. The screen door. The kitchen vent. The rug. The broken leg of the couch. The wilted plants. The gap in the walls where the cold Pacific fog seeps through. Adding a light to the ceiling fan. Turning two pronged outlets into three. Wiring new lightbulbs to old fixtures. Assembling new shelving. Assembling chairs. Scrubbing away the rust of old chairs. I fix the broken things around the house.
I am so broken.
There are days where getting up doesn’t mean much. There are many days.
Doors close. Branches wither. Roots shrink. Wow. What rotted prose. What overblown sentiments. What an amazing egotistical exercise - grasping for meaning in a meaningless universe. Perhaps one day, I’ll look back on this throwaway moment and consider how lucky I am to have a house, two cars, a baby girl, a wife and a well paying job. Dreams are optional.