Rules of the game …
*Link to the person who tagged you.
*Post the rules on your blog.
*Write six random things about yourself.
*Tag six random people by linking to their blogs.
*Let each of the six know they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment (on each blog).
*Let your tagger know when your entry is up.
I was tag-teamed by Freida Bee and Liberality (or is it team-tagged?) Oh well, the more, the merrier, I always say...
I love art, I love drawing, even though I don't do it much anymore. Writing or reading is what I end up spending all my free time doing now. But every once in a while If I do draw something, it's usually for my kids. They all love art, and I get more contentment watching them sketch, paint or build something than most parents get watching their kids play a sport. And every once in a while they need Dad to show them how to draw something. That is the best.
I am known to most of my friends as a very outgoing person. But to people I don't know closely, I appear to be a very quiet, even brooding person. I don't like bringing attention to myself except when I'm in my circle of friends, where I am a twisting Texas tornado. The people who I meet in the "social circuit" who see me out in the "real world" almost don't recognize me. And the people who I've met via work, or other situations who run into me in that mode can't tell me fast enough how boring they thought I was before then. So, that's kind of weird to me.
I cook very well. This surprises people when they have an occasion to partake of a dinner I've made. I don't know why this surprises them. I have been a single dad for most of my life. Someone had to feed my kids. The concoctions I create are a little weird, I'll give you that. Typical man that I am, I almost never use a recipe except as a rough guideline. I also never go to the grocery store just to purchase items for one meal. I just look in the fridge and cabinets and work with what I've got. My kids are very picky, but they will usually eat anything I cook (This drives Lauren crazy!)
I shot my younger brother in the head with a bb gun when I was in fifth grade. He was holding a bucket up through a clubhouse window while we were playing war. I hit the bucket and the bb slid past it and embedded itself in his right temple, about an inch from his eye. I took him back to the house, forced him to take some tylenol (to deaden the pain) and was about to do surgery with an X-acto blade when Mom came home. He got a quick trip to the emergency room. Mom took our bb guns away but we were still allowed to take the shotguns out down the street whenever we felt like it. In her words "At least I know you won't be shooting at each other with THOSE guns"... well, actually Mom...
My older sister cut the tires of the apartment complex manager's car where our parents lived one New Year's Eve. I got blamed. My older brother whooped my ass good. I never narc-ed her out, but I still feel like she should at least admit to the shit after all this time.
If I was to find out I would die tomorrow, I would die satisfied and content. I couldn't always say that, but I believe that I've made up for every bad thing I've ever done and made amends to everyone in my life that I've ever hurt. I'm a good friend, a stand up person, and the best father that I know how to be. I've paid it forward every day of my life, even before I even knew what the hell that meant. That's the only thing to me that matters- that I can look myself in the mirror and not be ashamed of who I am.