Children

Make it a rule never to give a child a book you would not read yourself.”

― George Bernard Shaw

Why do children need there own menu or toothpaste? Has it always been this way? When little Adolf went to a dinner with his family in 1860 did the waiter ask his parents if they wanted a special menu for their little bundle of joy? Probably not. He was most likely given the same thing everyone else was eating. Offal. I’m by no means asking to go back to the 1800’s. I like my A/C and laptop computers. I just feel like we cater to children knowing that kids can be a little (ok, a lottle) bit picky. That’s just going to compound our problem. Give a mouse a cookie…and he turns into a hot pile of garbage setting your house on fire while cutting off all of his hair. I never liked kids. Until we had X, I thought I hated kids. Turns out I don’t hate kids I just don’t like most children. I love my kids and like some of the kids I’ve met (Leah's kid is one I like). I find children to be careless, self involved and rude. They remind me of my own flaws and maybe that’s why I don’t like being around them.

I want to give my children the respect they deserve. They are after all tiny humans on this earth with us. I look at kid stuff the same way I look at any other type of leadership. When I expected highly of you, you will respond highly and the inverse is true as well. Flanking - is a movement of an armed force around a flank to achieve an advantageous position over an enemy. I’m a firm believer in flanking children....Ok, EVERYONE. You can’t go toe to toe with a toddler. It’s a war of attrition and everyone loses. You must flank. If bro has a pickiness over eating beets you tell him why beets are good and how that will affect his overall health. Toddlers are not dumb they want to be strong, healthy, run fast, and where a cape like Darth Vader. They are people. Small and irresponsible people. It takes more effort to flank than to give in to every desire a kid has, but that is what parenting is for. It’s not supposed to be easy, but can be so joyous when the tilling you've been doing in your child's heart starts to bear fruit.

Making Work That Matters

About a year ago I went through a season of feeling like all I was contributing to the world was extravagances. So I decided to invest fully in something that is meaningful to me. Photography. My goal with photography is to do work that really makes a difference. Work that makes mother’s adore their children more. Work that changes someone’s political leanings. Work that brings someone to tears because it captivates. To do that, I have to be all in. I have to believe in what I’m doing whole heartedly. I believe in the importance of families because mine has brought me so much joy. I believe in the importance of marriage because mine has changed who I am for the better. And I believe in helping people in need because it’s so freakin important for the progression of the world and that’s what my man JC was all about.

This latest gross negligence of humans rights is something I’m vehemently fired up about. Refugees are not our enemies. and even if they are, aren’t we supposed to love our enemies? Before we had kids my wife and I did work with refugees. Shortly after we started I realized I had wrong preconceptions about who refugees are and where they come from. We taught English as a second language to a group of refugees from Nepal, Cuba, Iraq, Pakistan, Nigeria, and many other places. Many of these people came from war-torn and volatile places whether due to their religion or their ethnicity. At that time the refugee program here in the states gave them a monthly stipend of money, some food and paid for their lodging for the first three months they were here. During those three months they had to find a job, learn the language, adapt to a new culture, learn the city and mentally recover from whatever they came from. Let’s try to put ourselves in their shoes. A lot of these refugees still have family in a country where they are murdered, tortured and discriminated for just being who they are. They may have left with their children and family to travel all the way over here to secure a life that is more concrete than anything that could dream of having in their home country. And I guarantee you it wasn’t as simple as just boarding a plane to get here. Their stories are many and very diverse.

I’m burdened to make these stories known. I want people people to have faces not just stories. Beautiful, unique, multi-ethic faces to look at, interact with and to try to understand just what it took for them to get here. I’m excited to start working with Refugee Rainbow and other wonderful organizations to start telling these stories. There are hundreds of organizations out there that help the broken and underprivileged. Get connected to one. Write refugees letters, help them learn English, buy them groceries, just sit and have tea with them (most refugees, that I’ve met, really like this last one). We really can make a difference if we try, put ourselves out there and be vulnerable with the people that need us and the help we can provide. We are all in the top 10% of the world’s richest people. Give y’all! Let’s be the change we want to see in the world.

Depression

For the first time in 12 years, I finally feel mentally clear and healthy. It's been a long road of talking in hushed tones with Molly about my mental issues and eliminating things that trigger feelings of despair and hopelessness. It's a constant fight but at least I know it's a battle so I can be prepared when my mental terrorists come to town looking for a mind to take down. I no longer sit back and let my terrorists drive into insanity. I Train! I Battle! I WIN! Not always but that's when I call the backup.

This battle with mental terrorism started when I was 15 or so. A friend, not even a close friend, killed himself. I remember that morning so vividly. I had seen him, what seems like now, just the night before. We had talked about some bands we liked. Disturbed. System of a Down. Korn. Don't judge. I was 15 in 2005, of course, I was into that stuff. Ethan, my friend no longer with us, asked if I liked the band Flaw. I had never heard of them but I never wanted to seem like I didn't have knowledge, otherwise people wouldn't want to be my friend. So I say, "YES! I love them!" Instant regret. "Cool! What's your favorite album?" he asked. I went on to pull endless amounts of information out of thin air just to manufacture some sort of friendship. The next day he's gone. So many thoughts rushed through my brain.

Confusion filled my mind. I had heard of people committing suicide but it hadn't registered on any level until that day. "This is an option" was entered into recesses of my mind. I wasn't really a sad kid. My parents were incredibly caring. My brother and I laughed more than I can recount. However, this mustard seed of darkness and depression found fertile soil in the folds of my brain growing into an oppressive leeching arbor of self-loathing and instability. I stopped listening to metal and moved closer toward guys like Elliott Smith and David Ford. I was drawn to such sadness. It called to me like I was a lost dog looking for home. I could relate to lyrics like "When they clean the street, I'll be the only shit that's left behind." It makes me so sad to write those words but I can't change the past all I can do is work on the present. Maybe someone talked to me about dealing with these feelings and the dangers of pursuing the thoughts to their endpoint but I was 16, arrogant and full of distaste for life. I didn't want to hear some "Old" persons take on how the world is. They were outdated and out of touch, I thought. The words I now want to speak to my 16-year-old self would ring as hollow as the words of all those that tried back then. I'd love to say that everything got better with time but it didn't really. At 18 I got married to the most amazing woman I've even been blessed to be in the same room...nay...continent with. That's when things got messy on the relationship side. I couldn't hide all of these issues. They would come out when I went shopping and got green tomatoes instead of tomatillos or when I would be so debilitated by the idea of work that I put it off for 7 hours. True story. All of these things triggered Molly to pry into my cold almost lifeless heart to search for the reasons for my actions. She listened without judgment for what seemed like the first time. She heard me. Really heard me. She wasn't just checking off a box. She cared about my heart. She cared about my mind. She cared about my soul. Thus started the long road of battling depression, self-doubt and self-loathing.

As of the past year, I've started being much more open to others about my mental issues. I know the depths. I know the doubt. I know the fog. I battle these things on a daily basis. I want to create a safe conversation space for people to share and feel comfortable sharing. The only way we can win this battle is if we bond together, for together we are strong but separate we are vulnerable. When I speak my issues or write them down they become smaller. They are manageable. Just the act of exorcising mental terrorist to a page or audio wave decreases their effectiveness exponentially. For instance, take my mental terroristic thoughts currently, "Why are you writing this? No one is going to read it. In fact, one kid might read it and want to kill himself because he sees what a pathetic teenager turns into. A pathetic man." Ok. So that's rough. But now as I reread those words I can see just how ridiculous they are. I know for a fact my mom is going to read this so HA (Sorry I'm making you cry, mom). I'm not a pathetic man. I have a lovely wife with two little boys that are worth the world to me. I get to live a life that scratches all of my creative itches in every way imaginable. Those harsh words have no solid footing. They are built on a sinking ship.

I still have the voices. I may always have the voices and that's ok. I will fight to the best of my ability. I haven't shut out all "depressing" things in my life. I still listen to Elliott Smith. I love his honesty and melodies. To me, it's about balance. My yin (Elliott Smith) needs to be balanced with my yang (Cake). I know the darkness but that's what makes the light so wonderful. I know the depths of despair and turmoil but that experience lets me see just how good things are. The fight is still hard but, over time, you find tools. Along the way they make the fight more efficient. I try to surround myself with people that look sharpen those tools so I can be more effective in my fight and help others do the same. Get on the offense. Stop playing defense.