I Am Not A Child.
2008 was a great year. Runners up include holding onto the same job, apartment, and phone number. The grand prize is that I was never arrested.
Even more important, I never gave the police a reason to arrest me, although that didn’t stop them from looking for one.
The new year started off routinely; I sprained my back in a sparring match. Although Billy continually asked me if I was alright, I chose to fight through the pain (just like always) and continue. I was in so much pain that those who watched the match pointed out how worn out I was. I fought on. I don’t know why. The addiction to fighting is something I need to deal with this coming year.
I blog about the people and events that have the most impact on me (that I’m allowed to talk about), which brings me back to my relationship with Molly. She tore me a new one when I told her that I had hurt myself sparring. What she said hit home, and she made me make a promise; I will undoubtedly make friends in St. Louis who share my passion. The second I get hurt, stop. I can no longer risk a serious injury that jeopardizes my ability to take care of my children.
Her influence on me has forced me to take my life into account; she’s much more informed on world events than I am, and I find myself having a hard time keeping up in conversation with this girl who’s ten years my junior. There is no excuse for how little I know about the world around me, and I find myself driven to learn everything I can as quickly as I can. Adding the Nightly News to my list of podcasts was a good idea. I can no longer afford to have an apathetic attitude; I’m a part of this world too.
I’m blessed with a near-invincible drive; if I decide that you’re not going to beat me, then you’re not. If I decide to succeed at something, then I’m going too. I hold myself to a very high standard and I used to tell myself that it was okay to do the best I could; if I failed after doing the best I could, then I could live with that. This is no longer the case, and I can no longer have even the slightest excuse for failure. With more than my own life at stake, I can no longer just try; I have to succeed at some level.
This means I have to get a lot of my self-doubt under control; I have a hard time believing why anyone would want to be with me. I can pick apart someone’s motives until they finally leave, and then say this was how it’s supposed to be; I’m supposed to be alone. Or, I can try this; Molly wants to be with me, and also, she believes in my ability to succeed.
So not too long ago, she comes across a blog written by someone I was considering a relationship with, and some of what was mentioned drove her a little crazy. One of the statements in the blog alluded to the more she got to know me, the more she saw a child. I didn’t take it personally–at first. I noted that this blog came following a decision to be with Molly instead of her. When Molly began to ask me about the legitimacy of our relationship (was I sure about her?) I took things a little more seriously. I can screw things up with women just fine on my own; I don’t need any help.
I wasn’t raised normally. I have no desire to be “normal” because the idea of settling into a dreamless existence is a fate worse than Hell to me. I like to laugh, as often as possible. I look for fun in everything I do. I charge obstacles wholeheartedly and with everything I have because if I try to half-heart the obstacle, then I’m only going to get halfway through it. I approach the world with a child’s curiosity because it is a huge planet God gave us, with literally millions of opportunities to explore. I am close-minded to almost nothing and blessedly, I have been exposed to a multitude of cultures and at one point, I spoke Japanese nearly fluently (not so much anymore. Not too many opportunities to practice in the Midwest).
I take my responsibilities very seriously; I’ll go so far as to say that I take my responsibilities more seriously than most people because I have been where one ends up when they ignore their responsibilities. My children are my life and no matter what I encounter this year, I will have some sort of custody arrangement by summer.
I’m not a child. I may not look at life the same way most people do, but this doesn’t make me a child.
I will, however, cop to being a dork. And screw Tony Stark; I’m Iron Man.
So begins another year, one which finds me in a very promising relationship, mine to make work, at the first stages of a burgeoning writing career, about to move to a major metropolis area and begin caring for my two children.
The battle to curb my insecurities, keep my anger in check, and overcome my trust issues continue.
For the first time in more than ten years, my father and I will come face-to-face in June of this year. An angry child left California; a father and writer will return.
Let 2009 begin.
Thanks for following along. 
(c) Avery K. Tingle for Modern Magic Enterprises LTD and Nomadic Productions LLC
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