Mother and Father

My father is the perfect contradiction in terms.

He was a jock. He played football, and softball, and basketball. He was great at all of them. But, he suffered the same tragedy I did, he got hurt and hasn't played much since.

But even before injury, he was an artist.

That’s how my parents met- he was a graphic designer, she a journalist. She crafted the words and he put them together, she the brains and him the bronze.

He drew, and played, and sang. 

He did everything and never stopped to answer any questions. 

I think I got my rushing from him. Wanting to be everything, see everything, go everywhere. That’s all him.

My father, is never happy in one place. His home is in something that can be taken everywhere-

a camera, a canvas, a guitar.

My mother is not that. She is content. Happy.

I am the both-sides of the my father and the nothingness of my content mother.

I guess it works that way sometimes.

What do you title posts without quotes? (People hate emotions)

I think that in these past sixteen days of not blogging I've noticed some things that I had sort of, forgotten about over the year.

I am, and this will be a big surprise if you know me, a stubborn person.

I know, you're floored.

But, I think that one of the traits that goes along with that is guarded-ness.

Everyone has a set list of emotions they don't want to share. Which is fine, I think. If it weren't for that my list contains almost every emotion.

I let a lot of that go around most people, but I never forget it.
As it happens, I don't allow myself to laugh in class. Ever.

That's stupid of me.

But I haven't stopped.

And one of the things that I've really noticed is that the Internet strips a lot of people of some of that.

Maybe it's easier to share your emotions with your laptops, but I'm always a little flabbergasted about the openness of others here.

In real life, it's difficult to talk to others because there's only so much complaining you can do before someone starts to dislike you.

But, here I could complain as much as I want and all you would have to do is click away.

If someone dislikes it, they can go back and read some of mine that they like more. Or they can just never come back.

In real life, I'm all your ever going to get.
I'm a multifaceted person, but not nearly in the way.

Reader, darling, I have to task for you.

Tomorrow, or today, depending on when you read this. No matter you when you read this,   really. Think about your answer when someone (not a stranger- a trusted person) asks how your day was.

Are you being honest?

Why not?