So, you’ve clicked on the “About Me” page.
If I knew much of anything about myself, I wouldn’t have to write, but I’ll give it a go. The short version is that I’m a father, husband, writer, reader, runner, cook and mild mannered office worker by day.
I sometimes write about my two children who are waging a brutal campaign of psychological warfare against me while concurrently reminding me how freaking wonderful life can be. I’m willing to call it even. However, if they ever win a major award and thank some teacher or coach over me, I’ll have to be escorted out of the building.
My wife shares this struggle and she is amazing. Not just because she makes amazing coffee, she’s also my editor or because I know she’ll read this, but none of those things hurt.
I have a dog named Gatsby who greets me every day like I’ve been gone for years. He’s my favorite.
I swerve emotionally like a groundhog driving a pickup truck between taking myself way too seriously to treating even very serious things like jokes. So, I’ll wind up with essays on grief or regret and how when you tilt your head just the right way, they can actually be good things.
I, like any true child of the 80s, believe that if I really want it bad enough, I can retrieve the remote with The Force. I’m a better parallel parker than George Costanza and for that matter, I understand that one of the secrets of the universe is that there is no situation that hasn’t already been covered by Seinfeld, the Simpsons or Friends.
Related, I make a lot of obscure, mostly out-dated references. I’ll tell you a secret since if you’ve read this far, you deserve a token: sometimes I’ll write something that seems like an obscure reference when I want to sound clever but really I just made it up figuring people will just assume they didn’t get the reference. Don’t tell anyone.
I write here on Wax Emphatic and also am working on a novel. I’ve stopped pretending to know what I’m doing and have come to believe that’s where life truly begins.
You should try it.