Things that go through my mind when I struggle to make eye contact withyou.

Where should I be looking?

Why did they look down? Do I have a booger in my nose?

Why did they look up? Am I going bald?

Is there a New Girl on tonight? I need to record it.

Which eye should I be looking at? Both?

I'm thirsty.

Man, his eyebrows are thick.

I could beat this dude up.
How often should I blink?

This guy's arms are really big. 

I'm miserable.

Does my breath stink?

What time is it?

What should I do with my arms?

Does she think I'm weird? I haven't looked at her in 3 minutes.

Are my eyes open too wide? I feel like I'm staring.

There's no way you're my son.

There's no way I'm your son.

Is this conversation ever going to end?

I think it's been awhile since I blinked. I'm going to blink.
Is my zipper down?

Why are you frowning?

You probably make more money than I do.

There's no way the Heat should've won game 6. They got lucky.

When should I sigh and say "Alright" so they know this conversation is over?

Hey, I look pretty good today. (As I look at myself in the reflection of their sunglasses.)

This conversation is ridiculous.

We're all going to die. 

Is it too soon to go back to reading my book, checking my phone, reading this article, etc.?

Watering the Lawn

I'm tired of life getting in the way of everything I want.

Like writing. How can I write anything when my lawn is burning up in the backyard? There are too many other things calling me. I can't possibly cross everything off my to-do list today. I can't possibly listen to all the voices in my head. There's a reason why there are so many wanna-be writers out there who claim to want to write, but never do. Please don't let me turn into one of them.

I sat in my empty classroom today and wrote. I sat there for an hour and probably wrote for a total of 12 minutes. Most of my time was spent staring, or thinking, or getting side tracked, or dozing off.

Sometimes I feel like such a hack. 

But writing is hard work. So is watering the lawn. It requires time. And effort. It is not exciting. I want to say that again, it is not exciting. You will never see a reality show where you watch people water their lawns. And you will never see a reality show where you watch people write. Because it ain't good TV. It's boring. 

But the lawn must be watered. Every day. Especially in this heat. Especially when you're off in the summer and you have free time. Especially when you have to look at that lawn every day. And especially when you know what it could look like. Especially when you go to your dad's house and see what your lawn will look like in 20 years. 

Grab a hose, grab a sprinkler, put a hat on, and go outside and water. If you have automatic timers on your lawn, then you don't need my advice. Your lawn's fine. But we ain't all rich. Some of us have to wake up early and go outside. Some of us have to stand there with the hose while we imagine what it should look like. What it could look like. We have to sacrifice time with our kids to keep things green.

Warning: no matter how much you water, it will never be green enough. 

When I grow up

My kids fight about the dumbest stuff. They worry, they cry, they throw fits...

and I just roll my eyes. 

And I wonder if God is the same way.

Like maybe the stuff that bothers me doesn't really matter. God just watches and listens and then goes back to reading his book or updating his blog. Maybe he wonders why more people didn't favorite his last tweet or why he doesn't have more followers. Maybe he rolls his eyes when his mom calls and how she still treats him like a kid even though he's 33. He's almost 34. And he's God, for crying out loud. 

Maybe I'm being blasphemous. 

But I don't ever get offended when my kids pretend to be me. 

They wear my shoes and my shirts and talk like me. They play school and pretend to drive and mow the lawn. They swear at the TV and throw their Playstation paddles when LeBron misses too many threes in a row. They say shut up and oh my goodness and one time they called The Incredible Hulk a perv. And I think they got that from me.

The bad news is that we might turn out like our parents. 

The good news is that they might turn out like God.

Work in progress

I started writing and the world moved on with its life. 

This is me procrastinating. 

This is me taking a break after I've written the opening and closing sketches (I guess I'm supposed to call them Incidents) to the book I'm writing. This is me pretending that I'm actually writing a book. This is me being one of those losers who tells other people about the alleged books they're writing. As if anyone cares.

This is me sitting in front of my iPad with a keyboard and a $10 Pages app and my Utah headphones listening to my Explosions in the Sky Spotify channel. Trying to be real. Trying to be honest. Trying to do everything it was so easy for me to tell my students to do.

The hardest part of writing is sitting down to write.

My brother in law is an artist. I went to his house today and saw his painting room. Pictures and drawings and sketches and notes everywhere. He is a professional. He inspires me and intimidates me at the same time. If only we had the same blood. If only I could write standing up next to an easel instead of sitting down on my couch.