Failure is OK

The other night (meaning last night, because "the other night" could translate to a lot of things-but it's not a lot of things, it's just last night), I went to Wal-Mart *shudder* and bought a sketchbook, watercolor pencils, and charcoal pencils. Tonight, I've been drawing. I attempted my first two portraits, ever. I must say, that they didn't turn out half bad. I mean, I'm no Da Vinci or Michaelangelo, but they didn't suck nearly as bad as I thought they would. That being said, I still enjoyed it. No matter how bad they sucked, or not, it was enjoyable.

So that got me thinking. I've never drawn before now, because I've always been afraid of sucking. But if I had just stopped being stupid and started drawing, I could be infinitely better now than I am (whether or not that would make me GOOD or not, is an entirely different story), and I would've had a lot of fun doing so.

So I've decided that from now on, if I feel like I want to do something, and I'm able to do so, I'm going to do it. Forget whether or not I fail at it. If I enjoy trying, at least, then that's all that matters.

Pretty Pretty Please?

Sometime in September, I will be taking a short backpacking trip. I have school this fall on Mondays through Thursdays, so my plan is to leave on a Thursday. The trip will go like this.

Thursday: Drive to the Uintahs and find the parking area I will have picked out. Hike in to a campsite close by. Sleep.

Friday: Hike to another destination that will be picked out beforehand. Set up camp. Sleep.

Saturday: Day trip. Do whatever. Have fun camping. Sleep.

Sunday: Hike back to the car. Drive home. Be glad to be back in civilization.

This WILL be happening, and YOU are invited. Seriously, anyone that wants to go will be more than welcome. I'm hoping to get a good number to go with me and have a good time.

Ponderings

I've been thinking a lot about family. Particularly about when I get a little older and have a family of my own. I wonder if I'll make as good of a husband and father as I hope to be. This pondering was started by a dream, actually. Let me share this dream with you. Just keep in mind that all of the things that the dream was very serious and if there is something that could be taken as random and funny, it was in fact very fitting and serious in my dream. So having given that disclaimer, let me proceed:
I was walking down a neighborhood street. I turned a corner on which sat an abandoned home. As I'm walking past this house, I notice that there is a little girl sitting in the bay window of the second floor. I know that the house is abandoned and uninhabitable, so it couldn't be some new resident's daughter. In fact, it appears (and turns out) that the girl had been abandoned there. I tried the door and it wouldn't open, so I climbed up the terrace to the window and retrieved the girl, took her home and adopted her. Let me just add at this time that the girl was absolutely the most beautiful little girl I've ever laid eyes on, real or not.
My dream then skipped a year or so. The girl is somewhere around 3 years old. I go home early and my wife is leaving the house with a strange man, my daughter is in her arms. It's apparent that she's leaving me and trying to take our daughter, so I plead with her to let me keep my daughter, but she refuses and takes flight. I ran after them for quite a distance as they made for a nearby bus station. When we get to the station, I yell at the officer to help and he runs over as I catch up to them and get into a scuffle with my wife's boyfriend. The officer, however, thinks I'm an assailant and they manage to convince him that I'm trying to kidnap my own daughter. So he arrests me and i spend the next few years in a jail cell. When I get out, I try to see my daughter and explain to her what really happened and why she had to spend the years without her daddy, but my wife and her new man have turned my own daughter against me and she won't listen to a word I have to say.
I've never had a dream in which an emotion was so strong. The love I felt for my daughter was incredible. Absolutely unexplainable. The ONLY thing I wanted was for her to understand how much I really loved her and just to come back to me. I didn't care about my own health or well being, I just wanted her to know that she was the best thing that had ever happened to me. I woke up on the verge of tears because she never did, and the feeling stuck for at least a week- maybe longer.

After that, I started thinking a lot about when I have kids of my own. I want to be the absolute best father in the world. I want my kids to love me and feel close to me. I want there to be an atmosphere in my home that's never existed before in my parents'.
As much as I do love my own parents and respect them, there has never been a particularly loving atmosphere in our house. My parents were angry and impatient with my siblings and myself for basically all of our childhoods. I understand how hard things were for them and no longer blame them for it, but I don't want to be like that. I want my kids to know that no matter how tough my life may get, there is always time for them and that my ability to be a good father to them is not contingent upon anything.
I want my wife to know that my happiness with her is not dependent on my career or financial situation. I want her to know that even if I'm stressed and tired, she is the most important thing in the world. I want her to know that I can't wait to be an old, crotchety man with her. I want her to know that I can't wait for her to be an old, ornery woman with me. I want her to know that I want to stand at her side and watch our children grow up and give us grand-babies and share the pride I feel for them with her.

I know this post deviates from my usual mood and tone, but I have been thinking about this a lot lately and I wanted to share my thoughts. I have a feeling, though, that I'm not the only one.

I can't think of anything clever to title this post.

So I work at Best Buy now, for those of you who didn't know that. I really really like it, cause I'm back in the customer service world. I know, I know. Customer service isn't a world that most people are HAPPY to be in. Most people would rather spend all day in the hot sun, pulling poison ivy out of flower beds with their teeth than deal with grouchy, rude people all day long. Let me tell you WHY I love customer service jobs so much.
First off, I work in the media department. That means I work with movies, music, video games and mp3 players. So I get to walk around the store all day talking to people about music, movies, mp3 players and video games-which I'm good at and thoroughly enjoy. I mean, I just love being able to recommend new bands and movies to people.
Secondly, I love children, and we get a lot of them in the DVD area. Last night there was a lady there with just about the most beautiful and adorable little girl I've ever seen, looking for the Wizard of Oz. So I got the movie and knelt down and handed it to the little girl and talked to her for a minute and it put me in a great mood just because I love little kids so much.
Lastly, the rude customers don't bother me. I mean, if I'm not in the greatest mood, they annoy me and don't help, but they don't really bother me all that much. I actually think it's kind of funny that people take themselves so seriously. The night before last, I asked some kid if I could help him find anything and he turns to me and says (quite seriously), "Well not unless you can get inside my brain!" in the rudest tone he could muster up. So I just looked at him for a second and said, "Well, actually, no. I don't think I can do that." And he replies "That's what I thought!" as though I were a sub-human life form that didn't deserve to help him. I walked away from that chuckling because he was so fucking stupid.
So I have work from 4-10:30 tonight and I'm looking forward to it. So, to all you people that dread going to work, because you hate your job, TAKE THAT!