There is a thin line that separates laughter and pain, comedy and tragedy, humor and hurt.”

Erma Bombeck

Long time no blog.  I am actually nervous dipping back into this tonight.  I had thought that I had actually perhaps posted my last entry for a long time.  Instead, I find myself sitting back in front of the glow box spilling the beans like one of Jack Bauer's victims on the now extinct show "24".    So, for all two of you have missed my blog, don't worry this one will be long enough to be considered a manifesto.

I am sure that everyone has been holding their breath to hear more wit and wisdom from me, the guy who usually wears two different lengths of socks around town.  What I have learned over the past six months (both through school and life experience) is that I need to shut the heck up.  I am not a good listener....and having a blog has only added fuel to that fire of my non-stop blabbering.  I have had a semi-silent technical retreat.  I was in such need of being quiet.  And in that quiet I have learned something very important.  I came upon a brand new insight that probably seems obvious to most, but to me it was as close to an epiphany that a guy with my limited amount of brain cells is able to have.  It was an epiphany for a half wit. 

More about that in a bit...

I want to say "Thank You" to the various stalkers/friends/IRS Agents/ who have asked me over the past few months why I was not blogging.  I was asked last week if it was because I had a lack of material to write about.  I can assure you that was not the reason. I have had stories to tell...oh Sweet Lordy have there been stories.

I could have written about my exploits of being a stay-at-home dad while my patient wife has slid back into the realm of the fully employed.  I am not very domestic and I find it to be proof of active divine intelligence and intervention in our world that I have not burned our house down with cleaning agents and unattended stove top burners.

I could have written about my trip back to my childhood where I actually got back on the carnival rides that haunt my town every year.  I have no doubt that some of you would have really enjoyed me detailing how in fact I was able to not vomit all over my children who kept ushering me onto flimsy constructed, rusty, and shaky rides that were being operated by people who looked like they would be just as happy burying my body in an unmarked grave as they were operating the machinery that spun me around.  Honestly every time I got strapped into one of those rides I kept feeling like I had just walked The Green Mile and I was getting ready to be sent shrieking into the afterlife with an empty bladder and a concrete suppository.

I could have written about the strange African snake that showed up in my bath tub last week.  While I did not measure it, I am pretty sure it was over 10 feet long and sent my due to some sort of curse that was placed on me from some witch doctor I might have cut off while driving.  I am no Jack Hannah and I am not comfortable with slide-y green monsters flicking their tongues at me while I cry in the corner.  My poor four year old son had to realize a couple years earlier than his brothers that his father is a man by biology only.  I lack the "guy genes" to be able to deal with situations like that.  It was my hope that my constant hand waving, sweating, tear streaked cheek puffs, and cursing would have scared the snake away.  I didn't.  I had to call in backup.  Sigh.

I could have written about how much I really don't like Levi Johnston.  In fact I had about a 48 hour period of time where I was committed to moving to Alaska to intervene in his mayoral candidacy.  My outrage cooled a bit when I found out how expensive plane tickets to Alaska were.  Holy crap.  Plus they have bears.  Big Bears.  So I decided to remain pissed off at Mr. Johnston from a distance.  I feel like as a schlep myselt, I have the authority to call him the king of all tools.  Politics aside, he is perhaps The Anti-Christ that Pat Robertson's bible yammers on about. 

I could have further shared how autism has coiled itself around our son.  I could written for hours about how we as parents are starting to come to grips with how autism has injected itself into my Noah's social abilities.  It seemed easier before when we dealt with things we could control...like speech therapy appointments...and motor skills issues.  Now I feel like we are moving into a realm where I have no control over.  I can only worry about how other children treat him.  I cannot do anything about that.  It sucks like a Jay Leno monologue. 

So yes...there have been plenty of things to write about.  So why have I decided to be so quiet? 

I think I am entering adulthood about 14 years late.  There is a slight undercurrent of change happening inside me.   The person I was when I started blogging is pretty much gone.  I have a lot less ego, a little more weight, and my life-view is a helluva lot different.  I am not nearly as judgemental as I was five years ago, and I don't believe everything I type on a blog is gospel.  When I began blogging years and years ago I was so full of myself.  And what I thought I was doing was a service to the world.  I was sharing the incredible opinions and stories of John Roedel.  Goosebumps.  Right?    Years have passed and I have posted tens of thousands of words out in the virtual world for man and cyborg to read. 


What I have learned over the past few months through my education is that to be a writer a person has to have a strong voice.  They have to have something to say that is meaningful.  And when it came to posting entries on here I had lost my voice...and I wasn't sure why.

Until today.

I know now why I have been allergic to posting on here anymore.

While running on a treadmill today  (which I know sounds like a blog entry all on it's own...and it probably is...but check it out....over the past seven days I have ran over 12 miles...which is probably as much as I have ran over the past ten years combined!)   I was wondering why I didn't blog anymore.  When it came to me...

Despite all the hard work and countless hours of filling up the internet with my ramblings I never really understood that my writing was never really done for you.  It was for me.

I wrote to heal myself...and did I need healing! 

When I first started to blogging I was in a very unsettled place in my life.  I was the last person you would ever want to raise a child with a special need and I was confronted with doing so.  I was working at a job that I was bad at, and it was killing me on the inside.  I was confused why I was not the person I had always thought I was going to be.  I was uncreative, boring, angry, jealous, and extremely materialistic, and scared out of my mind.  While I have never been diagnosed with Depression I have no doubt, with hindsight serving as my 20/20 flashlight that I was.  I cannot imagine that  I wasn't.  I had every reason to be.  It was my Dark Night Of The Soul.

Just thinking about those days makes me wonder how my family did not give up on me.  I was a selfish prick that would make my arch-enemy Levi Johnston look like the patron saint of self-awareness.  I was an illusion of who I wanted to be.  I was lost and on the path to a certain unhappy life.  My depression made me believe that I was going to lead a life without purpose.  How terrible is that?? 

Writing on here and on MySpace saved my mental health.  I began to write about my life and my experiences and while doing so I was providing myself with the moments of reflection that I needed. Writing to me felt like I was I holding mirror up and coming  face to face with the brokenhearted punk that I was.  As a serious introvert I was surprised to find how easy it was to rip open scars (usually through humor) and expose the interworking of my flawed heart to the general public.  And it felt good.  It was like Spring Cleaning.  Sunlight was being exposed to parts of my soul that were previously hidden by large heavy curtains. 

Through this self-examination I became to understand why my heart hurt so much.  I bloodlet all my feelings about autism, and my frustrations of being a daddy to a child who was in desperate need of my hand to hold.  I was able to cleanse the lens of my hearts eyes and take a look at the world in a different way.  I learned to stop being a victim to obstacles and to just start to accept that any struggle I faced was an opportunity to learn more about myself.  Besides every time something bad would happen to me I was able to find a way to make a great blog entry about it!

Writing has been my therapist.  And as I was running today I came to the understanding that I don't need as much therapy as I did before.  To be sure, I still have issues the size of Donald Trumps pompador...but I am not nearly as broken as I was. 

I am much more at peace.  I am at peace because I have learned that I can no longer control anything that goes on around me.  I can only control what goes on inside me.

I don't care about things that are no longer worth caring about.  I used to care about status, square footage, and what people think.  I am more concerned with how much joy, service, laughter, and creativity I surround myself with and share with others.

I am done with worrying about anything other than showing my kids that life is not about avoiding pain and accumulating stuff, but rather, it's about embracing the miracle of every moment and living in a constant state of gratitude for life.

I will blog again.  I will have to, because I am not done with my therapy yet.  And if anything I ever say gives another parent an ounce of comfort or at least a quick smile than I will consider it an extra bonus. 


 If I am lucky I will learn more about myself...here is a couple things I would like to know:

Why do I burn every hamburger I put on the grill?

How is it my brain lacks the ability to help my ten year old son with geometry homework?

Is there some reason why my eyebrows grow so quickly?

Am I the only one who is freaked out that the toys in The Toy Story movies are actually alive and have meetings when humans leave the room? 

How many more years can I make it without having a real job??

Why is all wildlife out to kill me?

Will I continue to blog, and if so, will I enjoy to keep talking about things I don't really know anything about??



Well I think it's safe to say that I will keep blogging...at least for another ten thousand words.    I want to thank those of you who have encouraged me to blog again, and to the other readers who have been present as I have mended my heart through writing. 

Peace...and enjoy this song about how I feel about blogging.   I think you will like it:








Ten thousand words swarm around my head
Ten million more in books written beneath my bed
I wrote or read them all when searchin’ in the swarms
Still can’t find out how to hold my hands

And I know you need me in the next room over
But I am stuck in here all paralyzed
For months I got myself in ruts
Too much time spent in mirrors framed in yellow walls

Ain’t it like most people? I’m no different
We love to talk on things we don’t know about
Ain’t it like most people? I’m no different
We love to talk on things we don’t know about

And everyone around me shakes their head in disbelief
And says I’m too caught up
They say young is good and old is fine
And truth is cool but all that matters
Is that you have your good times
But their good times come with prices
And I can’t believe it when I hear the jokes they make
At anyone’s expense except their own
Would they laugh if they knew who paid?

Ain’t it like most people? I’m no different
We love to talk on things we don’t know about
Ain’t it like most people? I’m no different
We love to talk on things we don’t know about

And after we are through ten years
of making it to be the most of glorious debuts
I’ll come back home without my things
‘Cause the clothes I wore out there I will not wear ’round you
And they’ll be quick to point out our shortcomings
And how the experts all have had their doubts

Ain’t it like most people? I’m no different
We love to talk on things we don’t know about