Digital Cowboy

When you get done whining about being oppressed, could one of you lazy victims fetch me a sammich and a beer?

Running the whole world and keeping everyone else down is hard work. I’m exhausted.

I find it fascinating and inspiring that the people who will often say that I’ve accomplished things they never could and continue to do things they still can’t imagine doing are the very same people that never stop trying to get me to do things their way. They’re so programmed that they cannot see — even while being jealous of me — that I’m not capable of living by The Formula.

I never set out to be different. I’m just doing life the best way I know how — for myself and for my daughters. That usually means that I don’t see things the way the average government-schooled, college educated person sees it. I could have chosen that path. I was in National Honor Society and even “Who’s Who Among American High School Students.” I could have done law school at Harvard or Yale and then Congress and the Senate and… Dear, God. Just the thought of it makes me wanna vomit. (I could still choose it now. But I would fail on that path because I have the one thing that will prevent the success of a whore — self-respect.)

It would have been a whole lot easier and a lot less fun to follow that path. It also has no promise of great reward. I don’t have much yet but I’m not done. On that path nothing would have ever been mine. On this path, everything I ever achieve is entirely mine to be shared only with those I can persuade to take the ride with me. I owe no one anything that I haven’t negotiated in a voluntary, value-for-value relationship.

I understand this isn’t for everyone. I don’t judge others who choose the easy and boring path. But that doesn’t stop them from judging me! I don’t sleep when they think I should. I don’t sleep as much as they think I should… except for the times when I sleep far more than they think I should. I eat too much, drink too much and smoke too much. Except for those times when I don’t eat enough. I spend way too much money except for the times when I’m being way too tight with my money. I also seem to always spend it on the wrong things. Just like I eat either too much or too little of all the wrong and right things.

I’m not changing — either what I do or how I do it — based just on your opinion. If you have useful advice, I’m all ears, always. I’m determined to remain teachable for all of my life. That’s Wisdom. But please stop offering advice for which I haven’t asked in venues where it’s completely inappropriate and don’t ever offer it unless you have actually accomplished something that inspires me. If you’ve never done anything I would like to do, I don’t care how you did it and you probably have no insight that applies to me. (Those offering parenting advice, please take special note of that part.)

With very few exceptions, I’m probably not asking you to go with me on this ride. If you can’t handle big peaks and wild falls, you’re not tall enough to ride this ride anyway. Most of the people that offer me unsolicited advice are the same ones that would’ve puked at least three or four times a year and begged to get off the ride while sitting in the back seat of my life for the last seven years.

That doesn’t stop them from slapping me on the back and telling me how amazed they are at how well I’ve handled it all and how much I’ve accomplished in spite of it all, then – in the same breath – telling me that I need to go to bed earlier, stop staying up for days at a time, get up earlier, work harder or not work so much… ad infinitum.

I can’t live by your rules, Man! What’s more — brace yourself — I’m raising my daughters the same way I live and it’s none of your business.

I’ll close this with the immortal words of the great philosopher, Pee Wee Herman:

You don’t wanna get mixed up with a guy like me. I’m a loner, Dottie. A rebel.

I’m not a rebel by choice. But I’m fine with it. Maybe you should be too if it has absolutely nothing to do with you.

Just sayin’.

My father was the greatest man I’ve ever known. He was stolen from me when I was young. I won’t go into all of that again.

I’ve outlived him by a couple years already and that’s kind of strange in itself – you’re not supposed to be an older man than your father ever was, especially while you still have young children.

Medical science was already better than half way into the process of killing my father by the time I was the age of my oldest daughter now.

Throw into the mix that Mommy’s completely off her hinges lately, despite being here at this time last year to celebrate the day with us as a complete family.

It’s been a weird few weeks for me and I just realized a few minutes ago that it’s also Father’s Day today.

Every day is Father’s Day for me because I fought a war for my children and – among myriad other benefits – I get hugs and kisses from them every night right before bed time.

That’s all this father needs. Because it’s all that matters when you’re more than just a sperm donor.

If you’re a “man” that “can’t” be with your children today because your priorities are different, stop lying about it – especially to yourself. Nobody’s buying it. Your kids definitely aren’t. You’re vile, horrible filth.

If your kids are not grown, on their own AND you’re not hugging them today, don’t even bother to answer the phone when they call today. You don’t deserve it and they don’t mean it. They’re only calling because Mommy made them or they feel guilty for your crimes. By example you taught them how to treat you – dishonestly, superficially and without feeling.

In short, you’re as disposable to them as they were to you. And, no, you can’t fix it or make up for lost time. You failed at the only job you’ve ever had that mattered. There are no do-overs on this one.

If you’re a father and aren’t with your children today in spite of all your efforts to be with them, I truly empathize with you. I’ve been there. Keep fighting, never give up and don’t blame yourself until you quit.

My bathroom reeks of fruitiness. There are multiple fluffy robes hanging on the back of my bathroom door. I have plants hanging – hanging! – on my porch. There’s stuff in my shower that I can’t even identify – and a lot of it. There are curtains now and everything has been rearranged. I don’t know where to find anything anymore and I’ve been informed that I’m supposed to stay out of the kitchen – I don’t belong there.

Also, most of my stuff is crap and needs to be taken to the dumpster (by me, of course) whenever the pile at the back door warrants a trip.

Hannah Montana seems to always be playing somewhere in my house. Not just the show, the music. And not just in the house. It’s on Mommy’s iPod so we can listen to it in the truck, too. Suddenly picking songs on Daddy’s iPod in the truck isn’t great fun, it’s old news. Daddy’s iPod doesn’t have any Hannah Montana or Emily Osment. Mommy’s here with the good stuff.

My youngest daughter has informed me that I’m now outnumbered and the girls are in charge. In fact, she says, “Girls go to college to get more knowledge and boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider.” (I’ll leave that irony to the reader and address it with her later. For now I just respond with “Boys rule and girls drool.”) I get no love around here anymore. Those cute little ones that used to crawl into my lap a couple times a day for Daddy hugs are now threatening to throw me out if I don’t shape up.

I thought we were getting Mommy back. Now I see that they were planning a coup. I just respond by telling them that if I don’t start getting the normal daily dose of hugs and love from them that I’m accustomed to, I’ll throw their mother out and when Mommy’s living in a box under a bridge it will be all their fault.

For the love of all that’s holy: I just broke the kitchen rule and went to make coffee… My prized Hamilton Beach Brew Station – the best thing I ever bought for my kitchen – smells like… like… Oh, God help me. The coffee maker smells like vanilla. Sure enough, after I got it cleansed and disinfected from all of the “girl” on it, I went to make coffee and there was some foil pouch of “Vanilla Biscotti blend” where my COFFEE is supposed to be! (Fortunately, I found actual coffee right next to it.)

On the flip side, I never cared much for the kitchen anyway. Also, not only have I not been going hungry lately, I’m eating better than I have in years.

I could do a whole separate post on that. That woman ain’t just eye candy in a kitchen. She’s a creative genius there. She concocts things on the fly that I would pay extra for in a restaurant. Most of what I eat these days has no name – “This is delicious, Baby. What is it?” (her laughing) “I dunno. Something I threw together. I just call it ‘My Mexican Chicken Shit.’ You really like it?” (What perplexes me is that she often does it just with stuff I already had here and makes it look easy.)

I have to admit the place looks a whole lot better, too… if you can block out all the yucky GIRL stuff everywhere. I only just now noticed that the coffee maker smells of vanilla because I haven’t made my own coffee in weeks. And I’ve never asked for coffee; it’s just been made by the coffee fairies while I sleep, I guess. It’s just there when I wake up, usually. Sometimes the fresh coffee smell is accompanied by the smell of frying bacon when my eyes open. (Bacon fairies? Who knows? No tellin’ what she had packed in all those boxes when she moved in.)

I complained to my mother about some of this girly infestation recently and she said, “You’re not foolin’ anybody. You LOVE it!”

She’s right. This briar patch is so awful. I demand that for all my sins and in the interest of justice, I be sentenced to remain here forever.

“When they carve my stone
All they need to write on it is
‘Once lived a man
Who got all he ever wanted.’
Tell me something: Who could ask for more
Than to be livin’ in a moment
You would die for?”

I’m a smart guy. I’m smarter than most. Usually, I’m the smartest person in the room. It’s awkward and difficult most of the time. For the most part I’ve gotten used to it and learned to live with it.

This blog attracts people that are smarter than average. I love that. At Vox’s blog and here too, I’m not usually the smartest guy in the room. That’s what I like about this place and his. It’s a relief from the pressure I get pretty much everywhere else I go.

I’ve struggled with this – and prayed about it – for much of my life. It’s not arrogance. It’s a gift that has often seemed like a burden to me. I’ve humbly tried to get God’s help in dealing with it. I spent much of my life in a quandary trying to figure out how to manage it and just fit in.

Here’s what He’s shown me in answer to those prayers:

Wisdom is the principle thing. In all your getting, get Wisdom. Intelligence as the world measures it is only one kind and, taken alone, it’s worthless. There are different kinds of intelligence. There are people with IQs much, much lower than mine that are far more successful than I am at the moment because they have other forms of intelligence that aren’t measured by an IQ test. Many of them also have Wisdom.

I’m not going to get into all of the different kinds of intelligence here. That’s not what this is about.

When I was in High School, I made money winning bets before and after class by doing long division in my head while reading aloud from a book. Sometimes I even provided the answer before the jock betting against me had gotten it from his calculator.

I was arrogant then because I could do things like that.

What profit is that without Wisdom?

None. Wisdom is the principle thing.

I have two points here. The first is that government schooling set me up to fail by making me cocky about my gifts. They lead me to believe that I was “gifted.” (I was. I am. They corrupted it.) They led me to believe that the world was my oyster. I thought I was gonna be the next Steve Jobs. Being smarter than your “guidance counselors” is not a great way to plan a career or a life. (And if your kids are average, they’re smarter than their “guidance counselors” in the government schools, Corporate Dad. If you love them, get ‘em out.)

The second point is that Wisdom is far more important than raw intelligence. It’s a funny thing about intelligence relating to Wisdom – Intelligence often gets in the way of Wisdom. That probably explains why I was raised right – taught Wisdom – and it still took me way too long to even start pursuing Wisdom. I was too busy making money with my circus side shows, like doing long division in my head while reading aloud.

But I’m coming around and it’s working for me.

Proverbs 3:17 reads (speaking of Wisdom), “Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.”

Go read the whole chapter. I had a hard time choosing an excerpt. So here’s a couple more:

“Length of days is in her right hand; and in her left hand riches and honour”

“She is a tree of life to them that lay hold upon her: and happy is every one that retaineth her”

Seriously, there’s context that you need. Go read Proverbs 3.

Bottom line: I find myself now very happily and voluntarily following people that almost certainly don’t have IQs in the same category as mine. But they have Wisdom that I want.

I respect that far more than the eggheads that think college degrees make them smart.

Proverbs 3 (AMP) ends with “The wise shall inherit glory (all honor and good) but shame is the highest rank conferred on [self-confident] fools.”

I know a lot of wise people with low IQs and even more very intelligent, self-confident fools. I used to be one myself.