here's your test results, mr. peterson.

a line i really hated hearing from my public school/university professors. i was always concerned with how much red there would be on the paper. and there was usually more than i imagined there would be.

the algebra professor would click his red sharpie in a gratiuitious manner, and smile a tooth-filled-smile at the class. as a class full of non-traditional students, we'd seen worse than whatever this space cowboy could dish out.

the writing professor would send calm, margin-sized comments on papers concerning run-on sentences and improper syntax. and then she'd grade you on your effort, not as much on your performance.

the lit teacher in high school who would privately chew me out for "choosing the wrong friends" (the skater kids) while he would not-so-surrepticiously hit on said skater boys.

and now. on a parenting advice forum, i get the same red marks. apparently, i'm a terrible father figure because i don't set boundaries. i'm not following the traditional male family role model, apparently. good. this is by design. i'm pretty sure the model involves (literally? figuratively?) dragging kills into the cave and beating one's family into emotional and physical submission.

"I suggest you start setting up some boundaries now before it gets completely out of control later on. You and your partner need to sit down and figure out what your own personal boundaries are, then teach that to your child. How is a child going to learn about boundaries if you don’t have any?"

i choose compassion. and understanding. ever the struggle to evolve, i choose to abandon a typical archetype in that the family father should rule by default, silent until provoked into violence, through word, thought, or deed. it was a simple choice for me. i choose to use my mind instead of angry reaction. still sometimes, this isn't enough for some people. or alternately, it's too much. maybe some parents are so instilled in their own painful upbringing that they continue simply because it's their turn to say "because i said so!" with a sharp swat.

uh, yeah. i hope my beloved english professor (how i miss you, mrs. blackford) will never have to endure the upcoming paragraph:

so, we live in a no-boundary free-form household. and it's fun. and it's annoying. and it's exhilirating. and exhausting. sometimes it smells like dirty socks. sometimes it smells like candles and incense. sometimes it smells like baked lasagna. sometimes it's filthy, with candy wrappers stuck to the floor. sometimes, it's clean, like the scent of fresh dishes out of the machine. sometimes the wrong item goes through the dryer. most of the time the -right- items go through the dryer. there's some questions. and some answers. some cohesive, some not. sometimes i accept the open rejection. sometimes i reject the open acceptance. sometimes it seems like it really is working. sometimes it seems like it really isn't. sometimes there is stability. sometimes there isn't. sometimes it drives me fucking crazy. sometimes i'm so in love i'm a total dork, all the way down. sometimes i miss my batchellor life. most of the time i don't. sometimes i wish i could truly speak openly to TFG, when most of the time i can't. and now, the house is about to be filled to the teeth with people, with loud happy jabbering, loud happy conversations, loud happy loud happy loud happy loud happy ad infinitum.

...and i'll squirm with uncomfortability. i'll greet the few that i have come to adore, smile, and then probably find quick excuses leave often, with little notice in passing from the crowd of loud happy loud happy loud happy loud happy loud happy ad infinitum. who am i to voice my uncomfortability with the close proximity of a sea of faces, some new old friends, some new new friends?

"where is my out in this situation?"

"you don't have one." *wink*

ah yes. still- i'm a person. with feelings. and strengths. and weaknesses. know thyself.

i have knowledge. i am learning. friday i received a formal write-up from both my new boss and my new girlfriend on the same day... and i started to wonder if i really had made a giant mistake with my life. the universe really does seem to save up for the day that it slings the shit at the fan that's pointing at you.

often to my own detriment, i have an instinctual need to put others first. for some unknowable reason, it's a continuing mantra for me. care about how others feel, especially those close to you. dote on them. ask them about their day. concern yourself with their lives. hope for the best for them. show them, through action and verse, that they matter to you. over the years i've learned that a lot of folks love to have an outlet to bitch, and will certainly honor you if you offer that service- but rarely will they return the favor. and that's too bad, really. one can learn bunches about yourself and your own internal mirror if you take the time to closely listen to those who could use a good rant. (watch them, after they've had this opportunity. watch the stress leave them, dissapated.)

when you concern yourself so much with the feelings and hopes and ideas of others, you can really lose track of ...you. i had always imagined that a family dynamic wouldn't dilute one's personal solution, rather simply mix it in with equal parts of other solutions. so, here's to me. the non-boundary setting failure of a father figure. the sock-flinging, overwhelming love partner. the gross mismanager of playlists. the worrier. the planner. the thinker. the person. the human.

and, here's to patience *lifts glass*. here's to building a background grid through which one can better understand the infinite chaos that is the universe, from the galactic level to the familial level.

and here's to you, dear reader, for listening without judgement as i pre-empt your permission to allow me to bitch for a while. thank you.