Insides Revealed

November 5th, 2024 will be an election for the history books or at least for the near future around the water coolers, online via Social Media platforms, and in text exchanges. Today, picking up our kiddo from school, you could feel the tiptoed conversations. There seemed to be less conversation in the waiting area outside our grade level's school doors. Chit chat was less chatty. I listened intently for any cues that suggested someone might be "safe" to speak with and strike up a conversation. I left space both physically and relationally and allowed for engaging on what the future may hold. At that moment, I heard it, a subtle, "yeah, it's going to be an long interesting 4 years." I added my woes and click, we both knew, we were on the same page. A family we had started spending more time with, just gained points in the safe bucket. "What happened?" That's probably the most used phrase I've seen and heard posted and questioned in the past

When was the last time you pulled an "all-nighter?" My calculations put me around 15-17 years ago when I was last in college. And here, at 2:09 AM, I find myself again wandering through my thoughts, attempting to find motivation, inspiration, and simply completion of a final term paper for my Masters class. Those all-nighters actually began in high-school and were coupled with a bottle of caffeine pills-which probably resulted in my now being immune to that stimulant, cause it now has no effect on me. Plus a DNA test showed I don't metabolize it, so who knows how that all happened. With the MCU Timeline series in the background to "keep me company" (Thanks Captain America), a pack of graham crackers (what am I, 5?), a completed bottle of Muscle Milk, and feeling the weening of the 5 Hour Energy I inhaled just after 11, things are going swimmingly (But are they really?) In college, all those years ago, I was formally diagnosed with ADD/ADHD (can't remember wh

 F**ck Ya know, a good "F-word" is just simply needed sometimes and this is one of those times. Today, we spent 6 hours (yes, 6!) via Zoom in legal mediation on our home with the Sellers/Original Owners, their realtor and legal counsel, the mediator, and our attorney. I know, I know, woe is we, cause yes, we have a roof over our heads, we have heat and air and warm beds at night...so does any of that overshadow the sheer shittiness of the situation? Abso-freakin-lutely-NOT. And neither does any situation in which we may find ourselves that compared to a more extreme scenario, get diminished by the fact that it sucks for you, me or whomever in that situation. Because simply put, in our own sphere of influence, that situation is a pressure cooker that we may only feel. Just because someone else is going through something hard doesn't make one situation less important or difficult. This idea of comparative analysis was very difficult for me to overcome. Society has a great w

Cobblestone, brick. Uneven, weathered. Hard, unforgiving. As I explored the sidewalks, streets, paths, alleys, piazzas, all points of history and present converged beneath my feet. The Colosseum, a notte (at night), illuminated with mystery, curiosity, intrigue, and respect. As I ventured out into Rome, I found myself feeling a part of the city in a way that doesn't feel "real." Navigating the walk with confidence, the hotel departure took me left down the sidewalk, past people waiting for the bus, dodging smokers, traversing crosswalks past cars and cabs all to turn a corner and feast eyes on the Altare della Patria, Altar of the Fatherland . Altar of the Fatherland The magnitude of its architecture, contrasted in light and shadows, all pull the eyes to the fire burning at the front of the "altar." The size unrealized until I arrived at the front of building and steps. Alone, my family back at the hotel, I wanted to experience Rome's second personality at n

June 18th, 2019, I awoke from what was a 4+ hour surgery of a total thyroidectomy. The memory of the day passed as any "normal" Thursday. Although with a global pandemic and 3 months into quarantine, nothing feels normal these days. Nevertheless, lying in bed that evening next to my wife, I simply stated out loud, "Today was one year." The acknowledgement came and passed probably undeservingly as the events leading up to the diagnosis and surgery certainly were more than brief acknowledgments. And despite the many moments before, all that I mustered to give was a nod to the year that had been marked by June 18th. All that remains is a lesser scar than I had before, a daily pink pill of 100 mcg of Synthroid in the morning, the binder of reports, statements, Imaging CDs, and a "Thyroid Master" folder of all the digital files on my computer marking the journey from the unknown to the exposure of the diagnosis. With the weight of the world's other "ca

This post has taken me a couple days...just when I thought I had my "perspective," I was presented with another one that altered my previous one and the direction of thinking I thought I was forming; the hope I thought I was returning to for humanity and the societal evolution I pray for and wish to come to fruition everyday was altered. Here's the beginning and where I "ended" in evolving my own thinking... Think about the last time something was said or done that took you so off guard you lost your breath, burst into tears, or just sat quietly thinking of all that transpired in that moment. Of all that you thought you knew, but realized you didn't. About two weeks ago, that type of event occurred in our bubble. And then just like that, it burst. For months, Noah hasn't been sleeping. Up and down, multiple times a night, long periods to put him to bed, broken sleep for us all. It's sucked. Simple as that. For most most his life really, it starte

8 weeks. That's how long since my last appointment. Which feel more and more like a blur. As does the June 18th date of my surgery. And now, another date to mark, October 9th, nearly 4 months since my surgery. Last Wednesday, before my 3:45 appointment with my Endocrinologist, I had ironically received a notification of my LabCorp blood-work to my phone just 15 minutes prior. Normally, I pop open the results ASAP as my curiosity usually gets the best of me in wanting to know where my levels are. I get more and more adept at reading my labs to understand the new number I have to check just as a Diabetic might of insulin levels. Gratefully, I don't have to check my numbers that frequently, but nevertheless, the monitoring game continues. But this time, I decided to just wait and let me doctor do their informing. I left a couple conference calls right before my appointment and shot up to the 6th floor of the medical building at the hospital campus where my doctor's office