For the most part we wore whatever we wanted on stage. But there were one or two guys I played with that were always trying to coordinate our look.
Dibs on wearing a black henley for Saturday.
That is definitely an email I have received.
I pretty much always wore what I wanted in the end though. Because fuck anyone who would send me an email like that.
Parenting (and working) is kicking my ass this week. I wish I could get the fuck out of here. But I can’t.
Fight or flight, I suppose. Only one option left.
Happy Earth Day.
Sick baby. So tired. Coffee useless.
I am the walking dead today.
My parents new house has a skylight right above our bed. Ugh. Next time I’m bringing a tent with us because that would be marginally better than this.
We’re off to New Jersey for the weekend. Not Hoboken, but the *REAL* New Jersey. Have a fucking weekend, you awesome fuckers!
Today’s jam. On repeat.
Eddie Vedder is my spirit animal.
I just stretched and groaned a little bit at my desk (which I’m sure I do about 75 times per day) and realized that my daughter does the exact same thing.
Pretty cool. I didn’t even know that I do that.
It’s probably not nearly as endearing to my co-workers, I bet.
The things you own end up owning you
A lot of people will tell you not to place too much value on stuff. That it’s not healthy to focus on material things. But I’m holding on tightly to my Patagonia Micro Puff Vest. For starters, they don’t make this particular one anymore. More importantly, it was a gift from Jen on our first Christmas together.
There is more, though…
I love how the pocket edges are ripped slightly from years of use.
How the zipper hanger has tiny teeth marks from when Max was a kitten.
How it was my only winter coat for several years in my twenties (usually paired with a heavy sweater or hoody).
How I can still wear it all four seasons, and everywhere from the office to the trail to the mall to the chairlift.
Best of all, though, is how I can think back on all of the experiences it has accompanied in the past decade… vacations, adventures, concerts, milestones… just way too many to list here. These memories are vast and scattered, and I love how they can be recalled in relative accord, thanks to this silly piece of water and wind resistant fabric.
Anyway, the title of this post is from Fight Club. And I agree. I also think I’m cool with that, as long as my stuff has few good stories to tell.
There is a point where, if you don’t follow back or interact, I will drop you because I feel like a creep. This is especially true if you blog regularly about your daily life.
It doesn’t mean I don’t like you. It may mean you don’t like me.
Either way, buh-bye.