The Dancing Toddler Redux

28 May

Back in the day, I am talking way back in 2008 here, I used to be all up on the internets with the one and only myspace. Now days, the mere mention of the word “myspace” will usually get you a giggle and an eye-roll. I mean, bitch, please! Who the fuckity, fuck uses myspace anymore? Today, I dusted off the old login and took a gander at some old posts of mine that are still meandering throughout the wide world of myspace. As remedial as they are, I decided to share a few with the people who actually follow me now. By doing this, I may actually lose followers. So, please don’t hate me. All you have to do is read my fifth grade writing style, point, laugh, and sneer. So without further ado, I give you The Dancing Toddler (Originally written July 23, 2008).

The Dancing Toddler

For those who know me , I am not an overly emotional type of person. In fact, I tend to hate most things that are “mushy” in nature. This can get me into trouble from time to time, partly because the people who I care about the most think that I am unattached emotionally or that I just flat ass don’t care. This is a trait that I have been trying to “fix” for years, but have never been able to conquer. Why in god’s name do I bring this up now, you ask? It took one simple, tiny thing to turn me into a 15-year-old girl. It happened just the other night. I watched my two-year old son dance.

It was a normal night. My wife had just came into the room from taking a shower and my son was watching TV with me on the couch. As I aimlessly flipped channels, I landed on a music channel. All the sudden, my son leaps up, looks me directly in my eyes, and with his own bright, blue eyes and a huge smile, screams “I wanna dance!”. He jumps off the couch as fast as he possibly could and starts the best, awful dance I have ever seen in my life. Up, down, left, right. His arms and legs flailing about. It was pure genius. At that very moment, for some odd reason, I was reminded of the most important things in my life. Not material possessions, not money, but just being able to sit there and watch my son convulse, uh, I mean dance. As I sat there in pure amazement, I looked at my wife and instantly fell in love all over again. It was like we had just met for the first time. I would glance up at my wife, back to my son, and my eyes would fill up with tears of pure joy. Now here comes the moronic part. I sat there with all these thoughts and feelings in my head, but somehow, someway failed to convey them into simple vernacular. This is a prime example of my issue. Am I completely incapable of speaking my feelings? Maybe. Who knows. So in a feeble attempt to right some of the wrongs in my life, I make a promise to all that I care about. I promise to try my best to start to verbalize my feelings and tell you all exactly how I feel. For once in my life, I actually hope that I can keep true to my word. This article may be only a small step in “curing” my lack of verbal emotion, but I have to start somewhere. To all my friends and family, I love you all very much. To my wife, I love you with all my heart. I always have and always will. And to my son, I love you more than you ever will know. And please, never stop dancing.


5 Responses to “The Dancing Toddler Redux”

  1. Jen O. May 28, 2010 at 11:12 am #

    And are you cured? Did you learn how to express yourself? Because I still don’t know how. I’ve been called a Vulcan for years because to the outside world have have no emotions. On the inside, I’m bubbling with them, but I have no idea how to comfortably let them out.

    • TJ May 28, 2010 at 11:19 am #

      That was written almost two years ago and I can honestly say that I have not been cured. Not only have I not been cured, there is not a cure in sight. My mind is constantly jumbled with good and wonderful things to say, but I rarely have the ability to get those awesome thought to my tongue at have them roll off my lips. Vulcan, huh? That is so much better than I have been called. “Asshole” is my favorite. “Dead inside”? Gives me chills.

  2. Jen O. May 28, 2010 at 11:38 am #

    Yeah. It gets me in trouble at home often. If you ever find the cure, let me know.

    • TJ May 28, 2010 at 12:55 pm #

      If we work together, we could possibly develop some type of vaccine. That way, we can make sure our children don’t perpetuate the cycle.

  3. Tracey May 28, 2010 at 8:21 pm #

    love it.

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