I stumbled across a comedy bit by Tim Minchin today (here, if you’re interested. NSFW) and in the course of this hypothetical argument, he asks an interesting question:

Isn’t this enough?
Just this world?
Just this beautiful, complex
Wonderfully unfathomable world?
How does it so fail to hold our attention
That we have to diminish it with the invention
Of cheap, man-made Myths and Monsters?

Our physical existence is profoundly complicated and strange enough on its own without including in the unprovable things like ghosts and auras and astrology. But I think it’s not a case of being uninterested or unaware of that complexity. Instead, it’s the  sheer overwhelming mystery of our mundane world that sends us running for the comfort of the unprovable. The average person (and I am one of them) will never fully understand the reasons and motivations for their own actions, much less the actions of others, and that can be frightening. Hugh MacLennan said it much more eloquently than I ever could:

“…there is no simple explanation for anything important any of us do, and that the human tragedy, or the human irony, consists in the necessity of living with the consequences of actions performed under the pressure of compulsions so obscure we do not and cannot understand them.”

When you give yourself an out, something to believe in that can’t really be disproven, you find a little pocket of simulated control over your universe. And that’s fine, keep your psychics and your ghost whisperers and your magic crystals, if they bring you solace and peace of mind. But when we meet to discuss the issues facing everyone in the public realm, please bring an amount of respect for evidence, and for the people who have made it their goal to study the science of the situation, and leave your unknowable mysteries at home.

More on the topic of the peculiar enigma that is my mental state. On Tuesday, I had what I would call “a productive day”. I managed to have 2 creative writing sessions in one day, instead of bullrushing through as much as I could in one sitting before being sick of writing and storming away from the table. I polished off on a non-fiction article, did a bunch of volunteer stuff, and slogged through a 5KM treadmill run. Not bad. I also had a strategy session with the wife, talking about the things we should look at starting in the new year, and during that talk, I could feel the insecure part of myself start to fidget, unwilling to accept taking on more challenge. The balance of power in my brain has shifted though, and I had enough ego power to squash that insecure voice and stifle its panicky rejection of the possibility of trying to do something new and scary (specifically, taking university courses).  I’m thrilled that I’m gaining the ability to sit on my panic and anxiety and interrupt my natural inclination to freak out.

It wasn’t all victory and smiles, however. Yesterday (Wednesday) I was the short-tempered growler, easily frustrated and angered by everyone around me. I think it was the panicky idiot part of my psyche getting revenge on me for suppressing it the day before, joining forces with the lazy part of my brain to hold a testosterone-fueled protest against the tyranny of the logical brain. It didn’t help that I spent the morning trying to pry an audio interview file out of my malfunctioning iPhone:tech issues always drive me into a rage.

After flying off the handle at other drivers and speaking tersely to my very forgiving wife a couple of times, I finally recognized the behaviour I was exhibiting, and I explained the situation to the family. The little dude and the wife worked together as a team to help me focus and calm down, and by the end of the night, everyone was sound as a pound. Go team! My family is awesome.

 

I don’t write exclusively about my experiences as a parent here, and I wonder if that makes the title of the blog a little misleading. I would think that most of my audience isn’t here because of the parenting talk, but because of our existing relationships. still, should I consider renaming the blog?

In an abstract way, everything that I do or experience is filtered through the parental lens. Being a dad gives me a set of absolute boundaries and a code of conduct that informs every decision I make, so when I fret over money, jobs, writing, or even politics, my opinion is my dad opinion. I don’t even think I have a non-dad opinion anymore, which is probably for the best. My non-dad opinion would run towards being selfish and retaliatory. My dad opinion always has to consider “How would I want my son treated in the same situation” and because of that I have to dismiss the angry or petty indulgences AKA why I don’t give other drivers the finger.

For a while, I tried to tell myself that all parents made decisions based on their kids, in an effort to humanize people I disagreed with on social and political issues. I would tell myself to remember that “Stephen Harper loves his kids too”, and that did lessen my fury for a bit. But it’s not working for me anymore. Maybe he loves his kids, sure, but he doesn’t give a tinker’s damn about the kids below the poverty line, and I can’t let that slide.

With the immediate and unfiltered nature of my blogging attempts, my hearty band of dedicated readers (hello, you gorgeous people, you) get the full intensity of my moods. Of course, since I blog when I’m in the midst of some sort of event or crisis, this also means that you get a skewed perception of my overall mental state.  Most of the time, I am a pretty calm and balanced person, despite my wailing and railing in electronic form. I think that most people go through the same swing of emotions, especially when stressful life situations come up. Then again, I may be fully exhibiting symptoms of a variety of psychological maladies. I don’t think I am, but if you’re ever sure that I have gone fully around the bend, flag me down and have a talk with me.  Most of the time, though, treating this blog as a confessional/diary seems to help in the process of understanding and dealing with my peculiarities, so I appreciate your patience while I get my brain in order.

Speaking of emotional moments, I was surprised to find out that the return of Sidney Crosby meant so much to me. For those readers who don’t know, Sid is a very talented Canadian hockey player, possibly the best of his generation, and he has been unable to play the game that he is so good at for the last 10 months, due to concussion symptoms. For the last few months, I have been trying not to consider what it must feel like to be unable to pursue your dream, and possibly have to give it up for good because it might kill you. The image of Sidney sitting in a dark room, unable to endure even watching tv because of the headaches and other associated concussion symptoms, weighed heavily on my mind. so when his return to the sport was confirmed on sunday, I was thrilled. even the pre-game footage of Sidney getting ready to play brought a little tear to my eye. I was also worried for him, and for the first few minutes of the game, I held my breath and hoped that he wouldn’t get that one fateful hit that would send him back off the ice, this time for good. I’m sure I’m not the only one. Hopefully, I’ll stop worrying about the state of his brain, and go back to enjoying him displaying his gift for the game.