Unspoken Truths: If you say it, you mean it

There is no taking it back, folks. This and more unfiltered rants.

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Another batch of old unfiltered rants uncoils now. Taken from July, 2011.

One of the things I hate most in life is when people try to take shit back that they previously said. Bullshit is my response. If it came out of your mouth, you meant it in some way. It was formulated in your cerebellum and registered with the mind and cleared by the conscious before passing through your fucking teeth so save me the propaganda.

Cecil

*A picture of a lion because why the fuck not? Photo credit to the person who took this before being eaten.

A family member or friend will say something to you and days or months later will forget that it ever happened.   They will say that they didn’t mean it.   It was a fluke of built up proportions inside their throat that got put on the vocal chord speed belt without editing.   What they forget is that the target never forgot the intention of the words.   Hopefully, by now, you understand what I am talking about.   Joking doesn’t exist.  Sarcasm is a tool used to shadow real intent.  When words come of someone’s mouth, the makers had a clear intention for them.  It’s almost unfair how sickeningly good my memory is.  I remember everything that comes out of a person’s mouth, or pretty close to everything.   This isn’t taking everything personally, trust me. 

This is a database of dialogue that helps in future conversations and arguments.  If you said it to me in a tantrum or a blast during an argument, there was truth to it and for that it must be stored in the memory.  Words aren’t wasted here.  If drunk or high, words still aren’t wasted.  If mad or happy, words aren’t wasted.   Truth serum isn’t needed anymore.  People reveal themselves through the language they speak.   If its thrown in your direction, there was meaning and precise thought behind it.    Remember this always.

Before I was a Dad blog bits

If had to choose right now which feeling was winning the pre-daddy stage war going on inside my head, excitement or fear, I would choose pure fear this week.   Those are the two general feelings in a dad to be’s head from the moment you find out your wife is pregnant and the day of birth.   You can hear stories from people you know or read a ton of books, but the weekly struggle is Excitement Vs. Fear.

Right now, I am scared shitless.   I am scared of not having enough money right after my son is born because my wife will need 4-6 weeks of maternity leave before she can work.   There’s a stranger called Mortgage working there.  I am scared of being left alone with MY KID for the first time when Rachel goes to job training.  I am scared of something happening to my son as he gets older.  Watching Rescue Me and the horror in what happened to Gavin’s kid(riding the bike in street, hit and killed by drunk driver) made me ill yesterday.

These are the things in my head.   What if I make a shitty dad?  What if I can’t protect my kid?   What if he finds out his dad is a fork lift driving blue collar grunt and that isn’t cool enough for me and him to stay friends past high school?   Fear my friends lives in me right now.   I can’t wait to be a dad, but I want to know what it’s like on the other side of reality where real life takes over expectation and history.  I am scared about the future of a kid being the center of my life.   It’s all a huge game to me.  A Game 7 battle between me and my future self.   A funny weird ordeal that only dads to be and current dad’s know about.

To Harry Potter or not? 

Harry Potter arrives for the last time this month and I will be attending with the wife(who didn’t need a magic stick to fly through the entire series of books within weeks) for fun.  I won’t be going as an avid fan and that is for a variety of reasons.  I don’t like Harry Potter and his friends or dislike them.  I simply never got into their stories.   This is scary language for people who take Harry and his school of wizards very seriously.

A good friend of mine gives me the stink eye when I tell him I haven’t found time to dive into the 7 LARGE books in the series.   I love the man like a brother but he doesn’t understand something.   I am a fast reader and all, but reading an entire series of books with my schedule right now is crazy.  So I am flipping it on him and the rest of the fans.  What if I asked you to watch a 7 season television series?  I am a big television show fan and have watched many to this date because that’s what I like to do with my free time.  I read a true crime book every once in a while, read the NY Times(which is a book) weekly and used to read back in high school and college when I actually had time, but these days I don’t get a chance.   That would be a fair trade right.   My option sounds more entertaining and fun.  Watching television will always be more fun than reading a book in my opinion.   That is my opinion.

So what if I took a passion of mine (a particular TV show) and traded it for someone else’s passion(a series of books).   What if I asked my good friend to watch Rescue Me and its series.  There are going to be 7 seasons of 12 episodes apiece when the FX series finishes on September 11th.  I would ask the person to at least watch 1 seasons of Rescue Me in order for me to rip into a Potter book or two.   Is that fair?  Sure, the series is 12 hours, but one piece of the Potter series would take a day to read if I sat down and went cover to cover.   Fair trade?  I think so.   This is an example of why I find Potter watchable but not interesting enough to put everything I do aside and dive into the book series.  I would rather watch the movies because that is what I like to do.  I am a movie guy.  One day, I may dip into the first book, but I don’t find it required to walk in and watch the Harry Potter finale as a casual observer.

I respect the success of the series but I am not a fan of it because I don’t find it interesting enough.   Sorry little Danny Radcliffe (who has turned into an alcoholic since completing the series, true story), but this Danny is sticking to his guns.  Writing, sports, movies, activities, a bit of true crime and history (Now that he has been caught, a Whitey Bulger bio) with plenty of unpredictable nature and taking care of the wife and my soon to be out son.  This is my covering of the Harry Potter finale and something that needed to be explained to the masses.

Vintage Chris Carpenter story(grabs tissue and lube as he recounts)

 

Carpenter walked out into Baltimore and pitched the toughest, rawest and most revealing complete game I’ve seen in quite some time.  With 132 pitches, 4 strikeouts, and increasing velocity and nastiness, Carpenter restored the order in the Cardinals rotation and gave the team a kick.  This is what aces of a pitching staff do in times of need.  With two Milwaukee losses, the Cardinals have won two in a row and climbed right back into the race.

Carpenter stopped the bleeding and returned fire in the opposing direction.   As we did with Albert Pujols and his search for his consistent dominance, one had to wonder when Carp would fully lock in and get into the groove we have grown accustomed to during his Cardinal years.   The last three starts have revealed the former Cy Young winner to be in top form.

There are reasons this is happening, and here they are.  First, Carpenter isn’t giving up as many hits as he has allowed throughout the season.   His hit totals allowed the last three starts are 10, 7, and 5.      Hits allowed are big problems for starters, but one can assure Carp’s command was never off.   The hitters were hitting him well because he wasn’t getting defense played behind him and he was missing location.   Last night, Carpenter was striking out hitters in the 8th and 9th inning with back breaking curveballs and cutters.  He has looked as sharp as ever in his last 2 starts, and the key to knowing Carpenter is locked is taking a look at the pace that he sets when he deals.   Carpenter dictates the pace and seems to control a game the same way a great quarterback controls the clock.   With Wainwright out and the back end of our rotation uncertain, Carpenter needs to lock in and continue to pitch well.

Guinness and I

The odd thing that is occurring at the moment to me is that I am hitting my stout session during the summer, when wheat, pale ale’s and lighter beers take over.  Lately, I have taken myself towards legendary stout’s like Guinness, Extra Stout Guinness, and new darker beers like SawMill and New Belgium 1554.   What I am looking for  in a beer is a distinct flavor and instant gratification.   Guinness provides the instant lovely satisfaction we all desire in a beer.   There are times where you need a beer, and Bud Light Lime, Coors or Budweiser will do.

However, take some extra time and you can find distinct flavored beers like Rogue Dead Guy Ale, Boulevard Two Jakes Double Tilt(available at Three Kings in the Loop), SawMill(available at Deweys), and Founders Dirty bastard Scotch ale. Those beers have character and force a man to stand up at a bar and announce that he just received three chest hairs after sucking down a thick Irish lager. There’s something about ordering a Guinness off tap.  If the bartender knows what he or she is  doing, they pour it in phases in order for the thick beer to settle properly before filling.   Its a special occasion and quite simply a beer that deserves a slow speed of drink-ability.   There’s nothing sexier than seeing a lady order a Guinness.  Something intimidating and lovely at the same time.

That’s the sad thing in advertisements these days for beer.   The makers pledging easy drink-ability, like people need to be let down easy when it comes to alcohol consumption.   Here, you want to drink, well I have a beer you can suck down for 5 hours and resist the idea of a drunken state of mind.  Why do that?  If I am drinking to reach a level of sweet comfort, I want to go after a beer that doesn’t contain a particularly “kind” drinkable idea.  Pick a beer you have to fight with at times to get down but when you reach a certain point, its like meeting a long lost friend.  I guess what I am saying is take a damn chance when you choose your beer for the evening.

Also, when at a loss for a beer idea and feeling Guinness is too heavy, go with the old reliably delicious Shocktop, because it gives you everything you want in a beer.   Distinct taste, instant satisfaction, and a worthy buzz in less than 3 bottles.  Go find something this summer my friends.   Right now, I am hanging with an Irish chief called Guinness, a beer that stings the nostrils and sends out an alert that good times are right around the corner.

More Daddy To Be Shit

From the man with no experience, sitting in the waiting room for dad’s to be, and trying to inform people of his current scared “shitless” thought process, here goes another round of fatherhood wonder.  A key trait in being a good dad is knowing when to back off and let the young man become his own person.   Rise to his own occasion and work to his own speed of growth.

I’ll promise you something.  Unless my kid throws a baseball 100 mph at the age of 12 or can sink a 3 pointer without prep or contains the reflexes of a jungle cat, I am going to let him do what he wants when he reaches the age of “serious sports play”.   I have seen too many dads force their kids into playing sports they felt no emotional relation to.   A couple guys on my high school team carried the careless drift of a kid being force fed his father’s dreams and it was hard to watch.   A guy makes an error, doesn’t produce and his dad rips him in front of everyone.

There are currently dads all around the planet who specialize in an activity that’s very hazardous to a kid’s growth as an individual.   It’s called “living out your dad’s dream”.   Kids being forced to finish what their own dad’s couldn’t because a lack of talent or initiative left their doorstep many years ago.  I’ve seen it up close and personal and heard of stories from afar.  I will not become one of these fathers who is determined to torture his son with a will power that can suck the life out of a kid and cause severe hatred for the rest of your life.

My biggest fear in life with being a dad is my kid hating me or thinking I’m a useless guy.   They look at me and see an enemy instead of an ally.  They tell their friends that their dad drives a forklift for a living while their dads work with scalpel’s and drive sports cars.  In order to position my kid right for growth, I have to tell him at an early age that this country was founded and preserved on the hard work and sweat and dirt of several men and there’s nothing wrong with making a simple living working a blue collar job.   He shouldn’t strive for that goal but there is nothing wrong with it.   My hopes are that Vincent graduates from college, makes a better living for himself and runs after a goal of separating himself from the pack.   Skill and luck play a part in making a good life, but hard work is the finishing touch.

There’s one thing I won’t do and that’s force my kid to play sports because it makes me feel better.  I’ll be more accustomed to sit to the side and let him run into walls of futility and struggle to find out what he is put on earth to do.   That’s more fun than dictating.  However, if Vincent Daniel Buffa decides to step into the world of sports and actively play a part in that career choice, I’ll be more than willing to be his coach.   That’s the greatness of having kids.  Whatever you didn’t get a chance to accomplish, there’s always a hope your kid will do that and more, in their own way.

Thanks for reading this fresh dose of unfiltered rants. Please forward any grammar errors or concerns to my unofficial assistant, who you can reach at gofuckyourself@gmail.com.

Author: D. Buffa

A regular guy who feels a journalistic hunger to tell the news. I blog because its wired into my brain to write what I think in print. I offer an opinion. A solo tour here. Take regular stories and offer my spin on them. Sports, film, television, music, fatherhood, culture, food, and so on. Commentary on everything. A St. Louis native and Little Rock resident who wants to write just to keep the hands fresh and ready.

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