Another Fork

Another New Beginning

So this is my first post as a part of WordPress. It’s exciting to try something new out.  My hope is to add more outside content to my blog, which means advertising.  For my CNY friends, yes you, this means free advertising.  Yes.  I want this to be a spot to promote your goods, websites, services, and your blogs.  I haven’t figured out a plan for outsiders, if they so choose to want to promote.  However, as a local supporter, giving free space to locally-based interests is my intention.

There is much hope for the blog.  Managing and listing all the blogs that I currently follow will also be a chore.  Anxiety is running high due to my having to update and refurbish my 90 blog posts, which were transferred over from Blogger.  My perfectionist ways does not enjoy the odd spacing; granted this looks more poetic, but that’s why my second blog is fiction-based.  WordPress has allowed me to transfer that blog to this website; however, I do own the domain name for Sporadic Attic.

To top it off, all my tags were transferred in–which is fantastic!–however, they all ended up in the category section.  That really grinds my gears.  It’s just another project I will have to bide my spare time with. Hey, I’m not complaining; this has to get done.

Here we go.

Crap.  I have the Blogger version of Infinite Abyss(es) listed on my business card.  I guess I will keep both of them up. What the hell, right?  Why not?  I have taken over The Infinite Abyss(es) for Blogger and WordPress.

That’s a win.

I’m not going to use the numerical indicators for each section anymore.  Everyone who reads this should be able to count to ten.  My posts are already a bit on the long side, which will be cut down significantly, but you won’t have to actually count the sections.  That’s only more work for you, not me.  It will be favorable on the eyes as well  The words will highlight each section rather than a number.

Guys Night:  Father and Son Edition

Dad and I hung out last night. Our usual guys night had been long overdue, because we couldn’t remember the last time that we hung out, ate delicious food, enjoyed a beer or a nice glass of wine, and then topped off the evening with a movie.

The menu tonight was sautéed sausage, peppers, onions, and potatoes.  There was a salad as well. A glass of nice red wine washed down the food; the variety slips my mind, but it was a dry red–we enjoy dry reds for the most part.  Dad had a couple of fingers of Jameson.

The movie was Biutiful, which stars Javier Bardem. This movie has been on my must watch list for well over a year, and my father purchased it a few months back.  This must be a trait that I have inherited from him:  spontaneous purchases.  He loves No Country for Old Men, and he follows his instinct when it comes to stars and their follow-up films. We have similar tastes due to his raising me and my coming to the realization that he knows what he is talking about when it comes to movies, books, and music.  I have successfully got him invested in certain films and directors, including Quentin Tarantino.

We analyze the movies, which irritates my mom sometimes, because we’ll talk and joke as she shakes her head.  This is often capped off with him and I smiling at each other.

These are our things.  It’s how a father and son roll.

During dinner I opened up a little bit to him.  I speak to my parents on a daily basis in one form or another.  If my mother’s Italian instincts kick in, she’ll call or text me multiple times throughout the day.  However, it’s been a while since I have actually opened up and talked about shit going on in my life.

I segued into moving, because he mentioned something about taking a trip to Arizona; he loves it there, determining this by the one time he was there, but the intense and dry heat served well by easing arthritis.  I asked him if he would consider moving there, and he broke away from saying yes to it, and went on about buying a cap in the Adirondacks.  The ideal spot is the Forestport and Old Forge areas, but personally a more northern locale may be even better.

Dad brought up Paul and Erica, inquiring when he was planning to move down to D.C.  The topic came up about Paul suggesting that I move as well.  Dad said it’s a great area, but you would have to consider the living costs and commute.  We spoke about New York City, and considering Westchester County as a great spot to live due to its proximity to the city and easy access to Yankee Stadium via train.

Chicago?  That city didn’t come up.  It should have been. However, it’s always a consideration.  He would have given me his support for Chicago.

My father then asked me if I had run into my ex at all, to which my reply was a no.  It’s been over a year.  It’s still weird, I told him.  He agreed, and he continued by saying that if her and I were to run into each other it will most likely happen.  It may or may not be inevitable, but the occasion will happen in one fashion or another.  He asked if I have seen her sister and her fiance or her parents.  No to the latter, but I haven’t run into either her sister and her fiance in about six months.

They are all nice people, he complimented.

I agreed.

That moment there was a long enough short pause where confidence struck me hard enough to say that I have felt pathetic.

I admitted to my father that I felt pathetic.

There have been interests, but my investment into settling is not there.  There is no understanding. There is no intention of whoring it up, but the individuals I have been going on dates with have not been captivating enough.  These women are very nice individuals, but the conviction is not there on my part.  There is a distinct no that sprouts.  However, this is all not new to you, my readers.  It was to him.

Like all good fathers, he told me to not worry about it, solidifying the conclusion with: you’ll know when you meet her.  This was mentioned a few times by his person, so I have faith.

We spoke about how lucky my brother is to have such a tolerant girlfriend; we have to razz him especially since he was not there.  It’s been a decade since they’ve been together, progressing strong.  Erin and Mike went with my mom and her friends to see Peter Pan at the Crouse Hinds Theater.  The show turned out to be pretty good, according to my mom. 

Biutiful

The movie is fantastic.  The story, as dark as it was to see it for the first time, is heartwarming. It’s an aesthetically pleasing feature; the symbolism and colors highlight this depressing time in Bardem’s character’s life.  However, he is struggling to make ends meet, bending rules, and (importantly) putting his children first. 

I’m not going to go into a full synopsis of the movie, but Bardem has a gift in the movie:  helping those who have passed move on into the afterlife.  You get the impression of his gift, debating on whether or not he is a hack, but it’s revealed that he is not.  This gift is not focused upon with the exception for a few moments.  This is great.  This supernatural aspect should not be stressed, but utilized to develop the character.  Instead of resenting this ability, he embraces it.

Making do with what little they have, Bardem’s role as a father stands out.  Another topic my father and I discussed were children.  The question of bringing children into a world like we have now is questionable.  I seriously want children of my own, but with the violence and hate plaguing our planet, it’s difficult to accept wanting children.  Do you want to bring them up in this?  Do you want to subject them to the horror?

My father assured me that it would be fine now, and it would be for my grandchildren.  However, we tried looking ahead, anticipating what could lie down the road.  We came up with nothing.

That’s scary.

The most important thing is to live in the moment.  There are many more good individuals than there are bad.  Good triumphs over Evil.

It’s best to live in the moment. It’s best to have hope. Embrace what you have.

Life is, in fact, beautiful.

 

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