Sometimes we have no idea of the kind of lives we lead, or of who we are. I regularly feel under-qualified, and in over my head at work, and then I type up a resume and am shocked at how it reads. I'm impressed. Then at home I sometimes feel overwhelmed, and as if I might not be contributing enough, or appropriately, and then I see other men not half as involved as I, and I let myself relax a little. Of course, I pay no attention to the fact that I've been blogging here for two and a half years, an almost every day commitment to share our lives with perfect strangers, and you. It strikes me that such an enterprise might be relatively impressive in it's own right.
There have been 1549
posts, including this one, since October of 2008...and there have been 95, 201
visitors over that same span of time. Of course Zoey is now 2 years and 4 months old, and all of that has been managed while living in this house on the lake, a hotel room in Honolulu, and an apartment in Brooklyn. There have been posts made from friends homes, grandparent's houses, hotels in Los Angeles, New York, Orlando, Toronto, etc...and airports, plenty of airports. I've blogged from my phone...blogged from work...blogged from a million of the forgettable places that our lives have wandered past over these 30 months. And I never once stopped to think that it was such a big deal. Like I said, sometimes we have no idea of the kind of life we're living, or of who we are.
Nearly three years of Zedder ruminations, of dumping my head and heart onto a computer screen, and of revealing too much on occasion and too little on others. I have no frame of reference to put that into context, I only know that it's felt good. At times it saved my life. Becoming a father wasn't an easy task, and becoming
is truly the word to define the process. we don't start out as fathers but we are quickly shaped or misshapen. I seem to know a lot of people, and have some close friends, but no one to call best friend, aside from my wife. That makes the becoming
part even harder. There are plenty of people I love, and some of them I see fairly often, but none that I see enough to have steered me through nearly three years of complete existential uncertainty, unfathomable amounts of self-examination, and a curious case of can I really do this.
Turns out I can, and it also turns out that I had this blog to help me through. There were comments from friends and strangers alike, and sometimes they were more timely than your next breath. It's truly helped me find my bearings. There are people who I once called simply "friends" whom I might now upgrade to people I love, and of course, maybe I already loved them and it just took this experience to shed some light on those feelings, but more often than not, it was a word, an interest, an excited smile when we saw each other, that illuminated who they really were and what they really meant to me.
Three years ago I'd lost track of my friend Beth, and now we just spent last Friday night two hours apart and instant messaging our way through an Elvis movie on television (a pretty damn fun experience I might add, you really need to try it).
Three years ago my friend Dustin was just a good buddy, and now he's easily one of the best people I know, someone I'd very likely go to if I needed someone to go to (I highly recommend that you get yourself a Dustin of your own).
Three years ago my friend MaryAnn was a girl I just knew, and liked, and was typically happy to bump into. Now I'm beyond excited at the prospect of bumping into her, and she's much more than just a girl I know. I'd suggest that she cares about me, my wife, and my daughter and she didn't have to.
Three years ago my friends Kevin and Aimee were relationships I'd long regretfully neglected, that part of my life long past and the farce of an imaginary line separating our lives. Now they have reminded me that they are people I care about, and people that I respect. Kevin is a quiet gauge for my own fatherhood. He's one of the best I know.
Three years ago I forgot what it was like to have my very own John Teeter, and now that I do again I wonder how I ever lost him. It doesn't take much for me to be reminded how some of the best years of my speeding, often unanchored life were spent in an old grey van bouncing around the countryside.
Three years ago I didn't know a single Cowgerelli...now I know three, and in small increments and varying ways I'm oh-so happy to have all of them with their own distinct memories attached.
Three years ago it was impossible for my niece Avery to know her Uncle any better than on the surface, and now she has a yellow brick road right into my heart. How incredible is it that we can become closer because of the things that I type, or that she could perhaps learn something here that might never have learned, and certainly not from me. Perhaps now she'll have some insight into a man's heart...maybe her father's, or maybe the man she meets someday? Perhaps she'll set new standards, and expect more, or maybe she'll just think twice about something she should really think twice about...and all because of 1549 posts.
Sometimes we have no idea about the kind of life we lead or the kind of people that we are...and sometimes we blog and it all becomes much clearer.