Rocking out and recovering

I had just a mild hangover this morning, nothing too big. One of the best feelings in the world is that hour or so when you're moving past the hangover. You're drinking coffee, eating breakfast, and moving on with your day. I didn't even drink all that much. Ah, life.

Last night I got together with Medium Walter for my second time. It's a band composed of several people from Lincoln's music scene working on blues tunes that one of us has written. Most are written by Honeyboy Turner, formerly of Honey Stump. We've all shared the stage at some point, either for one-off shows and songs or in regular gigging bands. It's raw, loud, and unpolished, which is exactly how we hoped it would turn out.

I'm working through the much-read 7 Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen Covey. I've never thought of myself as a really high effective model. I've wondered which motivational speaker I'll need to hire to coach me through things like changing diapers and getting my kid to change their underwear. When he or she is 18. That's the point where I figure that a child's underwear is his or her own responsibility, and there's not a whole lot I can do besides beg and plead and talk about how embarrassed I am for them and will they please cut it out.

There's nothing like expecting a baby to make you dive headfirst into self evaluation, wondering what kind of person you really are and have you been leaving little bits of your emotional maturity at each apartment when you moved back in your 20s. It's no wonder that I rarely got my full deposit back. That and "carpet cleaning."

Fuckers.

I digress. So I start to think that I only have around 6 months to start shaping myself up. It's probably similar to what some people feel in anticipation of their high school reunion. Except that I really have to go and I'm looking forward to it. I start to think about the relationship that I'm to build and the impression that I'm going to leave. I start to wonder what the kid is going to think of me at different points in his or her life.

Looking back at my feelings toward my own inexplicably absent father throughout my life isn't pretty. Everyone makes mistakes in their interpersonal relationships, yet some people keep making the same moves again and again. They snowball, those unfulfilled promises and no-shows do. Again and again I've wondered about establishing a relationship after the occasional phone call I've received from him. There's a fear of that rejection and of what I really don't know about him that undermines my willingness to take steps to reconcile. The thing that I really don't know about him, after my 33 years, is how he sees me. That's what I fear. Hopefully my child will never know that anxiety.

I'm off to help my buddy install an entry door in his house. Wish us luck that we don't wind up in the hospital.