Every Day Is A Winding Road

Every day is an adventure! I am happy to say that the tire situation worked itself out nicely. Now, it's on to the fun! Time to go celebrate 12 awesome months with the gal I love!

Happy Anniversary!

On this day one year ago, Rachael and I were married. Lots of big changes since then!

This morning has been typical. Some moodiness, some zaniness, and the usual smattering of mishaps that seem to follow us... but Dylan is happy and healthy, Rachael is mostly happy and healthy, and what more can you ask for?

Still, I have to laugh at our mishaps.
- Dropped wet coffee grounds on the floor provokes an "I can already see what kind of day this is going to be..." comment.
- Flat tire on the Taurus...
- Rach takes the Jeep to go run errands...
- No lug wrench in the Taurus...
- And my lug wrench (which might not work) is in the Jeep.

It does no good to get mad at it all... far better to laugh and relax. I just hope I can get somewhere to fix the tire -- hope it isn't unfixable, that would suck!

Little Things

Our 1st wedding anniversary is coming up soon. One year! Rachael and I took a pretty big step last year, and one that was pretty “quick.”

In fact, I’m sure a lot of folks thought we had a shotgun wedding. Which we didn’t, but then sort of kind of did… it’s all a sort of strange, long story that probably isn’t that strange if I put it all out there. We were not pregnant when we got engaged. So there.

But here we are, almost a year into it and with a new member of the family already. So far, I’d say it’s been a pretty rough but pretty fun ride.

We go through all the stuff most marriages go through – financial issues, time issues, closeness, intimacy, all that stuff. Feeling each other out, you know? We’ve not really known each other all that long and didn’t really know each other anywhere near like we do now when we tied the knot. It’s all an adjusted.

Dad always told me that relationships (in this case, particularly marriage) would be the hardest thing I would ever do in my life. He has been right so far. Add an infant to the mix… and it’s been a bumpy, crazy, joyful, stressful first year.

I’ve learned a big, fun lesson, though, and that is that life really is full of little surprises – be it a small kiss here, a funny comment there, a little favor or a simple habit. These things make up the stuff you carry with you in your heart.

Ultimately, that's where you've got to turn, good times and bad - your heart. I remember how passionately I used to pursue that as a personal lifestyle - living from the heart. Seems like now is as good a time as ever to remember that, and sally forth, loving and living from the full joyous heart that God has blessed me with.

Old Man Take A Look At My Life, I'm A Lot Like You

My boy is four months old today. I can’t possibly describe how much I love this boy.

Rachael and I got married in June last year. I didn’t know we were pregnant, and wouldn’t have cared (at least negatively so) if I had known – we were already engaged, and I knew this was the woman I wanted to be with and with whom I wanted to start a family.

I will admit – we were pretty unprepared for parenthood! We got a TON of support from family and friends, especially our parents. I never would have guessed what this would be like. It’s amazing, it’s hard, it’s fun.

Dylan has been such a blessing. Some times I don’t understand him. Other times he does amazing things. But through it all, I love him so very much. When I hold him against me, and feel his warm body move, it fills my heart with joy. When he “talks” at us, I have to smile. When he falls asleep in my arms, all the cares in the world disappear for just a little while.

Rachael and I couldn’t be more happy with our delightful little boy.

Up Around The Bend

It's been too long. I'm a husband now... and a daddy now...

So, yeah. Big changes. Last time I really wrote for this diary online, I was falling in love with the lady above. Now... married, daddied... as Marty McFly would say: This is HEAVY.

But man oh man is this so good. Dreams come true, for reals. Awesome stuff.

More to come, maybe, later. I'll try and write more next time.

Should I Post Again?

So much going on. I haven't written in ages. Maybe it's time again.

We'll see.

Dismantle. Repair.

I am the patron saint of lost causes
A fraction of who I once believed (change)
It's only a matter of time
Opinions I would try and rewrite
If life had background music playing your song
I have got to be honest, I tried to escape you
But the orchestra plays on, and they sang

Oh, things are going to change now for the better
And oh, things are going to change

Hands, like secrets, are the hardest thing to keep from you
Lines and phrases, like knives, your words can cut me through
Dismantle me down (repair)
You dismantle me
You dismantle me


... Ill be damned if I haven't heard a better song in years. Justin and Kristin, seriously... thank you for introducing me to Anberlin. I'm obsessed.

"Heaven's not a place that you go when you die..."

"... it's that moment in life when you actually feel alive." The Tide, The Spill Canvas

I can't write anymore. It sucks. Oh, I've been researching a bit of a book, maybe... it started pretty heavy, at least the research did, but... work, life, everything else got in the way, and I lost my spark.

Seems like I am losing my spark more and more these days. I'm not saying that as some drastic or depressed statement. I'm actually rather apathetic about it, and that probably bothers me more than anything about it.

But it's there... like a seed. Just needs water. The right kind of water.

So, it's a dry spell, another drout for the soul and the heart, but at least not a bad bad one. It's just done writing the same old story.

So, then... I need a new story. Not just for now, but for good. Words that matter, breaths that matter, touch that matters. As with everything, patience must rule... but I have been patient, and I really want to write again. I really want to feel again, to water the seed.

Off to find an ocean and a dusky evening, a dream, a watering can...

"The results are always perfect..."

"... but that's old news."

I love you, Meat Puppets. And yes, Nirvana, but please people... go check out Meat Puppets II - it's where it all started.

So... no real results until tomorrow, but for now, the preliminary results: (drum roll, please)........ nothing wrong!

Sigh. If another doctor tells me, "whelp, it's not this!," I am going to punch him in the jaw. Especially after having had to "clean out" my system two weeks in a row, with a stomach/abdominal attack (that lasted longer than any one of them yet) in between.

So far, so little information. Hopefully we'll know more tomorrow. But like I said, Doctor Brown (a new one, this one the X-ray Guy) was optimistic he didn't see anything wrong. Which worries me.

Mom is convinced then that it's either my gall bladder (a point she made on my first trip to the emergency room, almost 6 weeks ago now) or a stomach ulcer - my original thought, and the reason why I went to my family doctor two months ago.

Thankfully, mom and I aren't doctors, but seriously, if this ends up being one of those two things, that, AHEM, the patient has MENTIONED time and again since the beginning of this ordeal... I'm gonna havta call Wayne Brady. And Wayne Brady is gonna havta smack a bitch!

"Should I Turn On My Religion?"

"These demons in my head tell me to..."

The lyrics above - both the post title and the first line in the post - come from the Dream Theater song "Voices," long one of my favorites. For some reason, I woke up with the song "Lie" in my head, and grabbed the band's album Awake to listen to on my journeys this morning.

I had to make a trip downtown this morning, to Methodist and a place called Tower Surgical, for a consultation. It seems my stomach/abdominal issues have wrecked havoc on more than just my bowels. And with a name like Tower Surgical, I kind of had an idea what they'd be wanting to talk to me about.

Thankfully, my doctor was a friendly, older man who made me feel about as comfortable about surgery (something that profoundly freaks me the frack out) as I possibly could. We talked about the procedure, recovery time, and so on. He listened, too, which is always a good thing. Aside from the parking garage only taking cash - who does that any more?!? - the experience wasn't quite the pain in the ass I thought it would be - ahem.

But, I digress. Driving downtown, and back to my pharmacy on the far west side of Plainfield, and then back to the west side of Indianapolis for work gave me ample of time to listen to Awake. Nearly in it's entirity, which is saying something - the damn thing is nearly 75 minutes long. Like, I think they invented 80 minute compact discs because of this thing. I skipped around a lot, but just missed most of "Innocence Faded."

As I was driving and listening to "Voices," the lines "Should I turn on my religion/ these demons in my head tell me to..." hit me particularly hard. After having a bit of a "relapse" this past winter, I really haven't been very religious at all. I really haven't been touched or moved by religion since my friend Andrew (a Methodist pastor, and once a very good friend and like-minded, deep-thinking individual) and I had a falling out. I reckon this probably had to do with the fact that he was stronger in his beliefs, and lead me to think a certain way. Separate the sheep from the flock... and he easily gets lost, so they say.

I didn't abandon my beliefs all at once, and I am not sure I would say I have "abandoned" them now. Rather, my perspective has slowly changed, as has my life and experiences. Whereas before I had a deep-seated belief in God as savior, goodness, instructor, risk-taker, and a mover and shaker in the world, now... I simply don't. God, to me, is... something, something untangible. Not unreal, but just... distant.

The good Christian will chide me and say, "No, Dusty, it is YOU who is distant from God, not the other way around." But, alas, distance is distance. I can be no less than a mile away from God if he is no less than a mile away from me, and vice versa. I do still pray, though I don't necessarily believe in prayer any more than I do the Easter bunny. I recognize Jesus as a prophet, though I doubt the relational experience so many people rave about that I just truly have never felt in my heart. I do think God speaks to us, every single one of us, but only when we ARE looking for it, as in a sunset or a smile.

My discussions with Cory, Rachel, Joe, Mike, recently Olivia, and earlier Andy, all continue to, not influence me, but rather encourage me to continue to explore, to find the limits of my beliefs, the comfort zones and the danger zones. Music, as always, plays its part, sometimes quite largely. I have always been a fan of passion, and some Christian music is very passionate, very moving, deep and thoughtful. Some of my favorite bands are Christian or have had religious ties (though that aren't ever the truly popular ones).

I have always been a bit of a seeker, a searcher. It is only until recently when my fear of "letting down God" has subsided enough for me to face the truth - I have lost the faith I once had. Or, rather, that faith has changed, is being placed in other things, other... people. And myself. Friends, family, and myself.

God as a grand creator appeals to me, in a very real, spiritual way. The ebb and flow of the ocean tides, the stars and the moon, the swaying, green praries and the far, nigh-unreachable mountain tops remind me daily that we were created by something, something grand and big and beautiful. But... a good grandfather doesn't just dole out candy to the kids. Actually, the grandfather metaphor doesn't even work, at all really.

God as benevolent grandfather is myth. God as Father is a myth. God as mover and shaker is a myth. God as healer, comforter... myth. Or maybe he is. How the hell should I know? (see, I still have a hard time completely letting go... sigh)

This is what I know... in the last few weeks, when I have hurt so bad that I got delusional, and started honestly thinking that drilling a hole in my stomach to relieve the pressure was a good idea, I prayed. I prayed the pain would go away. And, it didn't. When a table saw to the gut sounded less like a horror flick and more like heaven-sent, and I prayed for some release of the pain and the madness it produced... the prayers were not answered. So... God chose me to suffer, instead? That doesn't line up with a caring, comforting, healing God.

Olivia had some wonderful things to say about this, with her own experiences and her father's failing health. It was good to speak to her. She had many thoughtful things to say. Rachel, too, has had a lot of things to say recently - not as in depth, and more towards the other end of the spectrum of belief, but thoughtful nonetheless. Each of us carries our own life experiences to God and religion, and so each of us carries something different away from those same places.

As for me... I still hold out hope that God, if anything, is love. I desperately want him to be a doddering old fool of a grandfather, with few teeth but a lovely smile, old, wrinkled hands, a papery smell and a worn old sweater. I want him to look at me when I die and say, "You did well - you had to learn your lessons the hard way, but it was a good life. You loved, your learned, you lived. That's all you were meant to do." And I want that to be the truth.

So the rules, the prayers, the scriptures and the crushing doubt that always stands in my shadows, I can do without them. The calling out in the middle of the night for some release for the pain, I can do without that. The silent, shaking hands, clasped in dire need or want of something, some goodness, I might get by without it. I think God loves us. I just don't think he moves and shakes, at least not very much, not any more. He's a good God, but not a gentle one. He set the world to spin, and sometimes, it spins out of control, and we just have to hold on. We make our way in the world, the best way we know how.

For all the pain, there is some goodness. For all the suffering, there is peace and hope. We love, we learn, we live.

It scares me to death to post this, not because I fear for me. I'm afraid God will steal someone I love away. As punishment. And God really shouldn't be like that. It's a sad state of affairs, that religion has made of my mind and my heart. Sigh.