Whuckah-chuckah!

Several things....

1. I have quit smoking. Yes. I have quit one of the few things that makes me feel calm, satisfied, and cool. I had to do it, though. I smoke about a pack a day, give or take, and the cash that was being spent on that shit is just better spent elsewhere. Primarily on weed. Or gas. Cos you know, those dune coons aren't making this shit any cheaper, despite their sitting on what analysts refer to as "a fucking shitload, man". But yeah, money is getting lean, so I'm trimming some fat.
And I figure if I'm making one step, I might as well make another. I'm going to call it "Josh's 10 Year Plan to Healthy Living". This is step one, the no smoking thing. Step two is going to be the elimination of caffeine, which is going to suck hard. Step three is cutting out un-needed sugars. And then I guess in between some of those steps, I'm going to introduce a gym to the whole aspect.

2. The actual typed out first draft for the much bandied about TV pilot is about half done. I know it shouldn't take that long to get it out, but I discovered in the process of writing it that I have a shitload of control freak issues I need to work out. There's tons of direction that I need to put in there, in terms of how lines need to be said, what people are doing, the mood of a scene I'm attempting for, etc., etc. There's more to it than just slapping lines down on paper and hoping that whomever you've got acting it out can interpret the meaning behind the scene. I decided to err on the side of caution and S-P-E-L-L it out.

3. This is the big one: my lovely wife, Banana Pants, and I are heavy with seed. Well, rather, she's heavy with seed. I just run to the store for one gallon(3.78 L) jars of pickles, ice cream, popcorn, and various other needs. More or less whatever she asks for at the time. And hey, the way I look at it...going to the store to pick this shit up is the easy part. It's not like I have to store some fetus inside me like a vending machine for nine mos.
All joking aside here, but it's usually easier for me to put this shit into, I guess "reality", by typing rather than saying. Despite my outgoing/extrovert/dickhead exterior, I'm not really comfortable talking about a lot of personal shit(provided it isn't my bowel or masturbatory habits), so it's hard for me. But this whole "being a dad" thing has me outright terrified. We could start with the whole initial year thing, or the toddler phase, or Jesus, the teenage phase. We could pick a starting point and go from any one of them. But shit, man, it's fucking scary, you know? It's one thing running my own life into the ground, cos at the end of the day I'm the only one that has to fall asleep with me. I'm the only one that has to live, long term, with my decisions.
Kids change all that shit. Something fierce.
For example: I joke a lot about not doing shit for the environment, cos I'm just going to fuck up this planet like my parents did for me. "Let them figure it out," I say to people that stare at me slack-jawed as I throw my waste oil down the storm drain. It's different when you have actual progeny following you into the world as opposed to the hypothetical variety. But it's not so much littering that has me worried, cos let's face it: how badly can you really fuck up 20 miles of blacktop with a piece of paper??
Honestly, I'm just worried that I'm going to end up like my father, and that I'm going to set into motion some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy(NOW STARRING CHRISTOPHER WALKEN!!!) where I try not to be my dad, and I end up being everything that he was. And then when my kid has a kid, they try to do the same thing(supposing that they're a male themselves), and they do what I did. Yeah, good times. It'll be just like reliving 1996 when my dad and I were about a 1/4 inch of drywall away from setting each other on fire. With our minds.
Like I said: good times.
But hey, I was (sort of)a psychology major in college. I know(sort of) about the mind and shit, how the brain works, and how that most men are destined to become their fathers. So I'm aware that I've got the deck stacked against me. And that's what freaks me out. Not that I'm not looking forward to beating the hell out of my child when I catch (hypothetically)him huffing spray paint in the garage, but I don't want to be that balding dude standing in his(again, hypothetically; please don't make me keep doing this) bedroom screaming at him about a C+ in some U.S. History class. I mean c'mon...everyone knows that U.S. History doesn't matter. We have cable television now, we don't need to know this shit anymore.

But I digress.....
To be honest, I'm going to spill something for you all here: I don't believe that one person can make a difference. I don't believe that one person is going to be standing on a street corner with a sign, and GW is going to think to himself, Shit...this war is fucked. I should stop this.
Not going to happen. At all. People don't change shit. Except!!!! Except other people. And as cynical and jaded as I am, I'm really an optimist and a romantic at heart. I want to believe the best in people. I want to believe that we can make a difference.
And I am going to make a difference. I'm going to have help, but I'm going to make a difference. And I'm going to do it through my kid.
If you ask me, that's far more impressive than swaying a presidential election or running a tax reform through Congress or whatever. But then again, maybe I'm biased.

P.S.- If this child is a girl, I will be going to jail in about 15 or 16 years. You can bet on it.