It is very analogous to golf. When you start out, there’s a lot of bad. I mean .. a LOT of bad. But, every now and then you hit that awesome shot that just feels perfect and keeps you coming back for more. In writing, specifically blogging, I find that every now and then I publish something that resonates with people, and I get so much positive feedback that it makes me want to burst. It’s humbling and rewarding and makes all those hours of writing, reading, and revising worth it.

I don’t ever plan to monetize my personal blog. This is me being me and humbly sharing with you. However, I do keep an eye on the traffic to my site, because like that perfect shot in golf, it’s a pretty good indicator of how I am doing as a writer. More specifically, it’s a testament to you, the reader, being willing to tell your friends about a post I have written. It’s a spectacular feeling and one that never grows old.

So given the wonderful feedback I received about my post this afternoon about domestic violence, all I can say to you all is … Thank You!

The conversation then went into the direction of, “If Rihanna can forgive Chris Brown, then who are we to judge?”

And that’s where my head exploded.

There are two components to domestic abuse; those who abuse and those who enable the abuse. Rihanna’s decision to forgive Chris Brown is her prerogative, and when looked at with greater and deeper perspective, it’s also the Christian thing to do. What I find appalling, however, and – well, unforgivable – is that she’s not using this experience, and the media frenzy surrounding it, to speak out visibly and publicly about domestic violence. Rather, when looked at through the prism of Rihanna as a public figure, her inaction serves, in my opinion, as implied tolerance for men who beat their girlfriends or wives.

I was driving my daughter to soccer practice recently, and a popular song I didn’t recognize came on the radio. I inquired out loud who sings the song (because the voice sounded familiar).

“That’s Pitbull with Chris Brown.”

“Chris Brown?”

“Yeah.”

“You know he beat up Rihanna, right?”

“Yeah, but they’re back together now. They’re doing a song together.”

I gave my daughter ‘the dad look’ as I asked her, “And what does that say about Rihanna?”

I don’t know if there’s a right way to approach your pre-teen daughter about the subject of domestic abuse, but I felt that was the moment for me. We talked about how serious an issue it is, and how there’s never an excuse for a man to put his hands on a woman.

I went on to tell her there are only three acceptable outcomes to a scenario – God forbid – where she’s the victim of domestic violence.

“You either A) pack your bags and get out, B) you throw his ass out (and subsequently throw out his stuff, change the locks, the whole nine yards), or C) make sure he ends up in the hospital.”

That’s it. No excuses. No trying to understand or justify why it happened. None of that garbage. The imperative I gave my daughter that afternoon is that the first time a guy puts his hands on her, it will be the absolute last time he ever puts his hands on her.

Maybe I’m being a stereotypical, over-protective dad. Maybe I could have couched the conversation a little better. Maybe I should have consulted with her mom (and step-mom) first. Still, I’ve seen firsthand the affects domestic violence, when left unchecked, can have on a family. My wife’s cousin Dee is no longer with us because of it. She was only twenty. I believe her tragic death, like most suffered at the hand of domestic abuse, could have been avoided.

So, no, I don’t think it’s too soon to talk to my daughter about this topic. The sooner I can get her to understand these types of realities, the more prepared she’ll be to face them should it ever come to that. My daughter will be going to college in five and half years, and it’s stories like those of Dee Curry, Yeardley Love, and this one that scare me to death.

I don’t think there’s one right answer or a one-size-fits-all solution to addressing these topics with our kids. I guess the important thing is that we make an attempt to address them.

After all, I’d much rather deal with my daughter being uncomfortable with me for several minutes than with my daughter being a statistic.

Stressed. Feeling overwhelmed. Failing in motivation.

Today was one of those days. The evil just came from left field and kicked my ass. It won the battle and wrecked my day (and the days of those around me).

I was left sitting in the corner, shaking my head, and simply asking, “WTF?”

Carry round the secrets
Only heaven knows
Crawl into our darkened rooms where only victims go
Though I feel I’m strong enough to carry all this load
I’m not able on my own

‘Able‘ by NEEDTOBREATHE

I think I need to go off and pray.

I sent her several pictures I took of our daughter during her soccer tournament this weekend, and she took one of the pictures, gave it a vintage look and sent it back to me.

Very cool.

Dear Internet,

Consider this a formal complaint regarding your incessant desire to consume my time. This has been going on far too long, and it’s time we address the issue.

I understand you provide me with productive and educational resources. Yes, it’s true. I haven’t written a check – let alone mailed one – to pay a bill in over five years. I concede you have allowed me, at a moment’s notice, to research information to assist my children with their homework or school projects.

Still, your pros pale in comparison to the cons with which you continue to fill my life.

Let’s be honest. Is there anything you can say in your defense that remotely makes up for the time hog that is Facebook? I thought things were bad when you cast upon me that other site way back when. You know, the one with the glitter posts and pictures of pre-teens making duck faces. But that was relatively confined. Now it seems you’ve pushed this child of yours onto the masses, and it’s just killing my ability to be productive as a result.

You make me feel popular. You make me want to keep up with all those people I’ve met once or twice who are now my friends. Yes, if not for you and your Facebook I wouldn’t be able to remember their names, but they’re my friends now dadgummit, and I absolutely need to go through the 1400 pictures you coaxed them into uploading to you.

Are you simply a masochist at heart, reveling in the notion that your presence makes us all suffer as we fall into the black-hole of time suckage that you created?

It would almost be acceptable if it were just Facebook. But you couldn’t stop there, could you? You had to throw things like Twitter and YouTube into the mix. You had to razzle-dazzle my attention with Reddit, Tumblr, and StumbleUpon. Worse of all, you employed my own kind – my friends – to do your dirty work for you. You had them bombard me with their blogs and personal sites. You continue to build your empire upon itself, each new URL a strand in the web you weave around the little spare time I have.

And don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing with that Pinterest thing. You present it as an escape from the mundane, only to drain the minutes and hours out of my life and into your vastness.

Seriously, this has to stop. You have to allow me to do my laundry, clean my floors, and feed my kids. This is insane what you do to me.

But the more I try to pull away from you, the more I feel myself needing to come back.

You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean all those things I said. I know you’re just trying to be there for me when I need you. It’s not you. It’s me. Please don’t hold this against me.

More importantly, please don’t take away my LOL cats.

The MVP of the match was …. the wind.

The Spirit stormed out to an early and shocking two goal league, both scored with the wind at their back. At the half, we hoped the girls from the WCSC Flames team would keep their heads up and use the wind to their advantage as well.

And did they.

With every shot or pass that got through to my daughter Natalie, the goalie, she would flip the field by booming a punt 3/4 of the way to the other goal and letting her forwards track down the ball and put it on goal. Time and time again they came so close to putting it in the net, but things looked hopeless when the game got to about two minutes left and the Flames saw themselves still trailing by one goal.

As play continued, the ball was cleared to mid-field where the Natalie’s friend Giselle, playing as one of only two defenders given the formation was adjusted in an attempt to score, put a foot on the ball and it began to soar. What was meant to be a pass ended up being a wind-carried shot that left the opposing goalie baffled and tied the game seconds before time expired.

In overtime, the Flames exploded with two quick goals in the first overtime period, and then solidified the win with a third goal at the end of the second overtime period.

Both teams played well, and the Flames sat patiently as the Spirit received their runner-up medals. Although it was disheartening when they found out their prize for winning the tournament championship game was a bag (yes, a pull-string shoe bag), the girls were all smiles as they held up the championship trophy.

Job well done, ladies.

The year before I had proposed to Lee as we wrapped up a two-week vacation that took us to Costa Rica and Mexico. Now we were returning to Palace Resorts for an experience of a lifetime.

We always travel with a lot of ‘stuff’, and with our fair share of the overhead compartment taken, our travel camera bag was under the seat in front of me. Overly anxious to get our vacation underway, I walked off the plane without our camera bag. When I say “off the plane”, I mean barely out the plane door onto the ramp to get to the terminal. As I realized I left the bag, I sprinted back onto the plane only to find the bag gone. Just like that, our digital SLR and our point-and-click were gone.

The fiasco of eyeballing everyone at baggage claim and dealing with American Airlines aside, we managed to pick up a new point-and-click at a Wal-Mart in Cancun (it was just like being at home).

Flash forward to tonight, the evening when my annual bonus from work came in, and Lee calling me to tell my she was on her way to the photography specialty store to pick up our her new Canon 60D DSLR. Not to mention the super-awesome lens she wanted (Tamron 18-275mm) arrived two days earlier. Like our camera bag three summers ago, a chunk of my bonus was just gone.

Payback, as they say, is ……