The Life and Times of Ronin Quinn

A Dad's eye view on the world at large

The Voices in me noggin November 6, 2009

Filed under: General — wompsett @ 2:41 pm
Tags: , , , , , , ,

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I’ll admit it, I hear voices. I’m sure we all do. At some point or another. Wait you don’t? Shit, now I feel even more deranged. I don’t know if there is a devil or an angel. Or if it’s male or female. Me or my wife. I don’t SEE the voices (I’m not THAT crazy), I hear them. I do know that I often used to listen to the one that seemed to be having the better time of the two (The horned one?). But now I find myself having to edit and second guess the voices I have become such good friends with over the years. They have grown with me, seeing me through thick and thin, good and bad, light and dark, yin and yang. Now sometimes I have to just ignore them. And they’re all ” What the hell, what did we do.”

You didn’t do anything little guys, I did. I had a kid. I can’t just run out and hit the local pub, and drink myself into an Irish style stupor anymore without first assessing the situation (one of those voices just patted me on the back). No, now I have to take it all into consideration. What do I have to do later? How will I get home? Will they even let me get that drunk with a baby tied to my back? There’s all sorts of variables to take into account now. My freedom is gone. Most people say that a man loses his freedom when he gets married. I say wait ’til you have a kid. Then try and party all night long and still have a working house key in the morning.

I’m not saying that I don’t get to have fun anymore. Just simply that I have to be more thoughtful in the what/where/when of it. And of course I have to clear it all before hand. It’s kind of like being in high school again. Having to get pre-approved for a curfew extension. Checking in every hour. Slowly creeping in through the front door at 3:00 in the morning when you were supposed to be home at midnight, avoiding those spots in the floor that you know creak just loud enough but somehow manage to step on every time. slyly sneaking into bed as though you HAVE been home since midnight. And then finally, come morning, avoiding the gaze that is piercing your already pounding from the night before head. And as long as you don’t reek of another ladies perfume or have a new tattoo or mysterious injuries, by nightfall everything is back to normal. Including your pounding headache. Hopefully. But next time, maybe just come home at midnight.

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