In my last semester of law school, I discovered my wife was having an affair with a woman she met online. Maybe you found this site because you did a Google search on “MMTL” (man married to a lesbian). If you’ve started that journey, you can expect your experience to be more or less like what the urban dictionary definition says about it. I will categorize posts as MMTL if I have more to add about my experience.
Unlike most single Dads, my struggle hasn’t been about getting to see my children but rather about raising them on my own. I will also categorize posts about being a single parent.
Well, before I started this blog, my Mom died. The end of my last blog was about mourning her passing, but magical closure is not really a thing that ever happens. Both my parents have now gone on ahead, and with greater frequency than I go to karaoke, I find myself thinking about the finality of death.
My Dad was born in Hong Kong, and his youth was informed by the military occupation of his homeland, immigration, and loss. My Mom was born in Queens before the baby boom. Her generation, like mine, is small in number and furthermore under-represented by storytellers. I feel like there are meaningful things to say about them.
I am a Christian. That’s a loaded term. Maybe I can unpack that, maybe not. In any case, I have a definite point of view about scriptures, and it’s not always so conciliatory.
That is a lot to take on in one blog. I suspect that, like most bloggers, I will often fall far short of my ambition and just bloviate. If I think my post has a touch too much narcissism, I will categorize it as such.
Nevertheless, if internet search engines brought you to me, then I hope to have something valuable to tell you. In fact, I will make a point of it to try to help troubleshoot some of modern life’s irksome problems in this blog.
If you are one of my children, and you are grown up, and you’ve discovered this blog, then maybe it means that I am dead. If so, then as you will read: death and finality are things that I’ve thought about a lot, and maybe this will help you process your grief. For what it is worth, I am sorry if I ended up leaving this world before you were ready to let me go, and I love you very much. But hopefully, I am not dead yet, and you (still talking to my kids here; I will get back to everyone else in a bit, thanks) can tell me how much you don’t like this blog. Or, maybe you think this stuff is also funny because you kids always found me amusing, albeit unintentionally.
(Back to talking to the whole internet)
If you have just arrived, read the first post (May 23) and the lyrics below to understand why my “Nom de Plume” is Cranky1000. I work Haiku, limerick, and song lyrics into my thought process (in my life as a whole, not just on this blog). The lyrics are often by “They Might Be Giants” (TMBG), but I will occasionally quote other bands’ words.
I understand in this age of the internet, you could probably figure out who I am. Don’t be a jerk. I’m writing under a pen name because I think the topic of authorship is interesting, but also because this blog is meant to be separate and apart from my professional life.
- Lyrics:
O, Do Not Forsake Me by They Might Be Giants
O, do not forsake me, my indolent friends
O, do not forsake me though you know I must spend
All my darkest hours talking like this
For I am one thousand years old
One thousand years old
Sure, you think that’s old
One thousand years old
But what do you know?
In my darkest hour, I’m talking like this
For I am one thousand years old
Oh, some have forgotten the flower of speech
And walks through the garden where I go to defend
Misbegotten notions while talking like this
For I am one thousand years old
One thousand years old
Sure, I’d say that’s old
One thousand years old
But what do I know?
In your darkest hour, my indolent friends
We’ll be one thousand years old
For the first post, click here
...All my darkest hours talking like this... 