This Old Dad

Delving into the creation and sharing of playlists on my YouTube Music account has become a fascinating pastime. I can't quite decide which platform offers a better experience for sharing—YouTube Music or regular YouTube—since it likely varies based on devices and personal circumstances. If you have a preference, please drop a comment and let me know! Today, Journey unexpectedly popped into my head, inspiring me to listen to their 1979 album Evolution . This led me down a nostalgic rabbit hole. Initially, I thought I might find about 30 songs that felt worthy of my Favorites list—a substantial number, indicating a treasure trove of great music. Surprisingly, by the time I was done, I ended up with 40 Journey songs that hit the mark, amounting to over two and a half hours of stellar tunes. Reflecting on another playlist attempt earlier in the week, for a band from a slightly earlier era but also in the Hall of Fame, I struggled to get past 18 songs before I landed in the realm of &#

Launching a blog always comes with a bit of a struggle, like the first step on a long hike. Today, as I was tidying up my desk, I stumbled upon a quotation I'd saved—a reminder tucked away among everyday clutter. It’s from the 2010 film Everything Must Go , featuring Will Ferrell. Later, I found an image from the movie on the internet to match it. I can’t fully articulate why, but perhaps it’s because I often find myself pondering the fringes of existence—the places where things begin to fray and fade—that this line stops me in my tracks and stirs an inexplicable urge to cry each time I encounter it. If you’re unfamiliar with the movie, give it a watch; it’s a worthwhile venture. So, let's embark on this latest blogging journey with a hopeful proclamation: Everything is not yet lost!

  Here's the deal: I'm done making a mess of things, especially my workouts. So, I'm trying a new tactic: I'm letting AI take over my exercise regimen. Crazy? Maybe. But when your push-ups look more like a belly flop, it's time for a change. I'm giving the power to the algorithms. It's like having a trainer who never messes up, never forgets your weak spots, and always knows just when to push you harder. And if this goes well, I might just let this digital genius make more of my life decisions. Why trust a robot? Well, if you saw me in the gym, struggling through another set of whatever-the-hell I'm trying to do, you'd understand. That's me, the poster child for "help needed." So, I'm taking a leap into the AI abyss, where my left hamstring is more than just a vague concept. Sure, there's a bit of a rebellion from the human touch enthusiasts. But when you've got a track record like mine, a little robotic precision might be j

  Here goes: I'm finally buckling down to document this wild ride I've signed up for. The idea of starting a blog hit me back when we were waiting for our daughter Raven to arrive in the winter of 2021/2022. I messed around with the idea, put it off, and honestly, didn't get much done. This has been a familiar story of mine for about 30 years. I've wanted to journal and write with a lot of starting and a whole lot of nothing to show for it. Wouldn't you know it, the universe has its own sense of humor, throwing another baby into the mix, due March 2024. Looks like I've got a second shot at this. A lot has changed since I first thought about what life would be with Raven in it. I was freaking out, unsure about everything, and questioning whether I could hack it. Just yesterday, a friend caught wind we were expecting again and had that same look of disbelief—like, why would I go for round two (actually 4)? I get it. I've asked myself the same questions. When t

Saturday morning the Bad Company song Early in the Morning from the album Desolation Albums came on my mix. Whenever I hear this song, I instantly fall into a trance and start playing it on repeat. After I got my fix, I started playing all of Bad Company's albums through their 6th, Rough Diamonds. Even though I know their catalog pretty well, I always seem to underestimate how much the music will move me and how solid all of the early albums sound. Desolation Angels came out in March 1979--right at the end of 8th grade for me. Of course, I'd heard Bad Company all over AM and FM radio before 8th grade, but I still hadn't added one of their albums to my growing collection. After being mesmerized by Rock 'n' Roll Fantasy on the radio, I splurged, got the album, and nearly wore it out. A couple of months later, I'd collected a haul of cash, checks, and savings bonds at my 8th-grade graduation party. Back then it was pretty common to give savings bonds as graduation

 My old, dark friend, the end-of-year winter depression that I fight against every year, is finally clawing back into my thoughts. Despite it, I convinced myself to write this entry at 1 am on Sunday night/Monday morning of the one-week countdown until school and work start again. This is my attempt to fight back.  The mood has seemed to take off since I started teaching, but I think that it's always been there. In the teacher version, the most depressing and dark days of the year for me are toward the end of winter break. It's an all-consuming dread that I'll never do justice to in writing and sounds like privileged whining when I listen to myself. But every year, right on schedule, I dive into a deep funk.  It's the anticipation of something awful that I can't reason myself out of and can't give up hope of avoiding. There is still time for a miracle in the constant calculations of my delusions, but the inevitable backing into a corner is imminent. I feel too f