[identity profile] nickthewarbler.livejournal.com
I wasn't lying when I said I was boring, but considering I just heard that a good friend is sick in hospital with possible Swine Flu, I figured I should actually make an attempt to say something here on a regular basis so people really don't think I'm dead. In saying that, I'm getting very little sleep right with my brain not wanting to switch off and the fruits of my loins hitting the Terrible Twos. He's also been sick with a freaky childhood superbug going around that apparently every kid in daycare has. It's not pretty. Neither is projectile baby vomit.

Don't say I didn't warn you that my posts were boring, and considering I have a child, possibly TMI on occasions. You should see what I've been finding in his diapers.

Anyway. I'm not further to thinking clearer about the predicament in my last post. To be honest, I just feel tired. I'm not even thirty, but I feel like life has skipped by me. I know I gave up a lot of dreams when fatherhood pleasantly - yet unexpectedly - graced my life. Being a dad is the best thing I've ever done, and nothing will match that. But it's also probably one of the hardest things people could face. It's not easy, and doing it alone is tough. I've had my fair share of times just sitting in the corner listening to him sob his heart out when I don't know how to stop him crying. I've had times where I feel like he's missing vital elements without his mom. Though, his mom is really not a subject I am going to get into on here. At all. So don't even ask. Rory wasn't a mistake and he was created with love, but apparently just more on my behalf than on hers, and that's all I'm going to say.

But really, what is love, and is there argument that you really only get one bite at the apple? Do we really only have One True Love, and if we let it pass us by, it never finds us again? Or even more importantly, if you do find that love again... will it ever the same as what it was? Is it best to just hold onto the memories and be thankful you loved and lost, or do you keep yearning for the tables to turn again where you can get up in the morning and just smile because you have that one person who never fails to make you feel complete?
[identity profile] nickthewarbler.livejournal.com
I can't believe the last time I posted anything here was in June 2010. No wonder the "Are you dead?" text messsages from old friends seemed to be increasing of late. I can't even be sure what made me come back here after so long. I promise, there is seriously nothing exciting in my life worth blogging about on a regular basis. I'm pretty sure no one wants to hear me whine about work rosters or failed toilet training attempts.

But you know how sometimes you just feel like you have to say something, even if you're not sure it will even make sense? I guess that's why I'm here and why I have three emails in my inbox telling me someone was trying to hack into my account because of password failure. Ironic, though, that no one emails you when you think about life failure, huh?

Something happened this past week that made me really stop and wonder what the hell I am doing. What the hell have I done, and what the hell am I going to do in the future. I don't like these thoughts at all, and nothing clear or precise has come of it. All it has done is create more confusion and sleepless nights when holding onto a consistent sleep is hard enough as it is.

Tell me, honestly, what would you do if someone who was once a huge part of your life told you they were dying?

The thing is, at the end of the day and above all else, I'm a dad and that little boy is my whole world now. He's the reason I wake up in the morning, and the reason I have to try to sleep at night. I live, breathe and exist for him. I want to do everything I can to make sure he has the world and when I feel like I'm not quite doing that, I feel like a failure. Do I have the time - or strength - to stop for just a few moments and linger on the what-ifs and uncertain demons of the past anymore?

Or more importantly, do I have the balls to face them?
[identity profile] zizes-schmizes.livejournal.com
It's been a while since I've posted, I know. And I'm sorry about that, dear readers, whoever and wherever you are. The truth is, I haven't been too busy, and I haven't been neglecting informing you about my oh-so-glamorous life - it's because I've been in the hospital.

So, your favorite blogger has a confession: I've been having really bad migraines, so bad that I used to spend days in bed at a time because just moving or seeing light or hearing things would make me feel like I was dying. So, my loving father gently chided me [read: bitched me out] to see a doctor. So, I did. And they did an MRI. And they found something. So - earlier in the week, I had exploratory brain surgery. And ... the thing that the docs found? Turns out to be a tumor. [Insert Schwarzenegger 'It's not a tumah' wav here, totally] And it's inoperable. And even if I have chemo to shrink the fucker, they don't know if it'll work. So. Do I stick with the 1-10 years they say I might have, or do I do the chemo and maybe eke a tiny bit more time out of it? I don't know. I have a lot of thinking to do, I think.

The most shocking part of all wasn't even the diagnosis. It was seeing One True Love afterwards. Apparently, he works here. And he'd been told I was here. And he came to see me. Talk about a surprise. And maybe a good one, I thought, considering I've been in love with him since I was 16 years old. I left Dr. Dinosaur, Ph.D. practically at the altar because of the hope I had of reconnecting with OTL. And I really wanted to be Mrs. Dr. Dinosaur, Ph.D.

We talked for a while, I disclosed my diagnosis and then he dropped the bombshell that he was a dad. A single dad. Which, I mean, I know he dated after me - it's one of the reasons I stopped talking to him on Facebook and whatever - it just hurt too much to know that he'd moved on when I couldn't.

I might've asked him to come see me again. And he might've said that he can't do 'this', whatever 'this' is, and I haven't seen him since. I won't lie. I want 'this' to be 'us'. And it hurt when I finally realized that there will probably never be another chance at 'us'.

So, hope? I kind of don't have any right now. About anything. And having no hope is probably worse than just about anything in the world.

Signing off, your faithful blogfriend.

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GLEE'S ANATOMY // When GLEE goes M.D.

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