Lazy Saturday with Dad

Saturday was once a safe haven for a school-aged Michael Dougherty. The guarantee of relaxing on Saturday morning was as iron-clad as the sun coming up that very day.

Friday nights were parentally sanctioned late nights. At the tender age of 6 or 7 I would be able to force myself to stay awake to the unthinkably late hour of 10pm. It was just enough time to see ABC's "TGIF" comedy block to its end witness the beginning credits for a "Mission: Impossible" rerun before exhaustingly making my way from the living room to my bedroom. A deep thinker at an earlier age, I would often tell my parents Friday night's sleep was always the best because of my sheer level of fatigue. I was able to fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow rendering me immune to the normal nightly nuisances. The intriguing sounds of my parents talking or my father's TV habits were unable to jar me in my weekly Friday induced coma.

I also slept soundly knowing what was in store for me when the sun rose. Saturday mornings were just about as sacred as the Friday nights that prepared me for them. I am one of the millions who can add "Saturday Morning Cartoons" to their list of treasured memories and pastimes. A wide array of animated bills awaited me on this morn. I would usually unearth myself from bed at the unglodly hour of 7am. When I was extremely young I would insist my parents awaken at this hour, as well. This was always met with a certain form of masked annoyance from good old Mom & Dad.

My favorite part of this Saturday morning ritual was the one thing I could always count on. You see...sometimes the occasional golf match or college football contest put my reruns of the Sonic the Hedgehog animated series at risk. However I had one certainty could never be hindered taken away. As frustrated as my dad was with my early morning wakeup calls...he always came out for just a little while. He'd grumblingly kick me out of their bedroom. I'd walk out of there with a huge smile on my face. While it may have appeared all was lost...I knew I was the victor!

I would go lie down on the couch having already pre-selected our TV program before the mission began: to watch the only cartoon I could never miss on Saturday. I would wait until I would smell the familiar sound of whatever aftershave my dad wore. "Move over!" I would then hear. Half asleep, my dad would cram right there on that couch and lie down next to me so we could watch a cartoon together. "Its about to start, "I would say. "It looks like a good one! Slimer gets kidnapped!" For it was time for our weekly episode of "The REAL Ghostbusters" animated series to begin.

Being enchanted by the Summer blockbuster film of only a few years prior, my dad & I loved the Ghostbusters. We would lie there together every saturday morning for 30 uninterrupted minutes of paranormal psychiatry at its best by the very best men in the business. Dr Peter Venkman and his team. While Dr Venkman was a paranormal psychiatrist...the therapy this morning ritual provided me with is beyond anything I've ever gotten in a shrink's office.

While dad would fall asleep occasionally throughout the show...I always knew he was still into it. At my young age I was still always thankful that my dad took this time to bond with me every Saturday morning. But now that I am adult and, like him, work an insane amount of hours to keep a household together...I am even more appreciative that he took his only day of sleeping in to spend it with his first-born son. I don't know if he was aware of how much those mornings meant to me...and still do. But they had a tremendous impact on the man I am today. A man who considers bonding with someone you love as the utmost priority in life.

Once the credits rolled up on Ghostbusters he would usually retreat into the bedroom for another hour of sleep. I was always perfectly okay with this, as I was very understanding of how hard he worked.

He could've slept all the way through each Saturday morning and nobody would fault him for it. But my dad recognized a unique opportunity to do something with his son that was very important to him. It was something that didn't require a bunch of money to be spent, tickets to be purchased or even special atire to be put on.

It was the simplicity of a man and his little boy watching a cartoon together. The simplicity of a young man getting to be at the center of attention of his hero. This ritual didn't require ANYTHING more than us...but it meant EVERYTHING to me. It still does.

We're both a lot older now and I figure we'd cause damage to most couches if we tried to lie across it. But I am extremely grateful to say that even though years have passed and life has continued to happen...I still get that feeling from my dad. Only nowadays it isn't from a cartoon. It can be in the form of a phone call, text message, hug, and sometimes even stern lecture. No matter the delivery, the bonding and love is there,

For this...I am eternally grateful. I love you, dad

For a good time....

(if anyone doesn't understand how this works...you click the link. Then enter your phone number. Google will call you & then connect you to me.)

Miracle on Gillingham

What became of paradise?

Reality...a dream.

Love unearthed from ashes

was bursting at the seam.

Companionship discovered

Lovers all the way

Friendship first, then soulmates

What did we always say?

Chorus:

A miracle on Gillingham, As Canaveral launched the sky

The Central Florida moonlight, ignited you and I

Several years of longing, delivered now in bliss...

In what I'd learn to treasure as the world's perfect kiss

The heart doesn't know zoning

A fact I've often fought

Believe in our connection

Right now its all we got

I still can feel your heartbeat

Im closer than it seems

Despite my self destruction

You've never left my dreams

Chorus:

A miracle on Gillingham, As Canaveral launched the sky

The Central Florida moonlight, ignited you and I

Several years of longing, delivered now in bliss...

In what I'd learn to treasure as the world's perfect kiss

From Georgia to the Ocean,

I see you at my side

Some things should be forever,

despite chemical pride.

Never forget that moment,

right when you kissed me back.

As long as we can feel it,

We'll always have a chance

While I might not always talk about it...these eyes notice just about everything.

I'm forcing myself to write this blog right now. Well, I suppose 'force' is a bit of a strong word. I am encouraging myself to write this blog! Is that better?

I've decided to watch the first season of the Sopranos again. I'll likely continue through the entire series. Its an interesting choice for me for very deep reasons. When I was at the deepest time of my drug use, I happened to be watching this series. I downloaded the entire series and watched it last summer. The difference between last summer and now is that now I'm free of any chemicals. Last summer I still had a lot of pain in my leg from my injury so I was taking the painkillers pretty strongly. I was unaware that I was traveling down a slippery slope.

Now I've gone through the slippery shit and things are going pretty well. So for me to watch the Sopranos and be able to absorb everything without distraction is a nice victory dance of sorts. I know I still have a ways to go in the long run but this feels pretty damn good.

At first I was nervous, you know? I was concerned this would bring back some bad memories or create a primal urge for past demons. But nothing like that transpired at all. Everything is feeling pretty nice.

I sort of miss being able to crack open a cold Coca Cola, however. My current living situation prevents me from keeping such treats in the refrigerator as my roommates are unable to keep themselves from cracking the cans open and sucking down the sugary goodness.

Bastards.

I love how almost every blog post contains me bitching about my living situation. Great, eh?

The unbreakable king of analogies

I'm watching the movie, "Unbreakable". I'm reminded of my song "Superhero". That song was always one of my very favorites that I've ever written. A lot of that song has to do with ideals in that film. The story of a man with something missing from his life...and he needs to find it. It turns out that he has abilities most other men don't making him a hero.

Sometimes I feel like that in certain ways. While I don't possess super powers of any kind, I feel like there are things I can do that many others don't. I feel like I have a gift of sensitivity of sorts. I've always been really good at being able to feel other people's emotions and understand what they're feeling. I've always loved having that gift. In an argument or disagreement I can put myself into the other person's shoes to understand what they're thinking.

Sometimes I feel like it is a power that is quite super. A lot of people I've met in life can't imagine someone else's opinion or thought. It baffles me. Part of my gift is that I understand people and can think of what needs to be said for them to understand the situation. People I know always joke that I am the "King of analogies". That is a good way of putting it, I suppose.

The problem with all of this is that I pretty much wear my heart on my sleeve. Its a lot easier for someone to hurt my feelings than it might be for most people. Lots of people say little mean remarks when they're angry. My problem is I can't help but take everything to heart. When someone that I care about says something that hurts my feelings I just can't comprehend how they could do something like that. I know its partially hypocritical because I know I hurt people in life, too.

Cruel people use this against me to try and win an argument. But part of growing up weighing over 400 lbs has taught me to block out unintelligent banter. My whole life was full of people making fun of me and trying to make me hate myself more. These things bounce right off of me because they are coming from people that I care nothing about.

I wish I had the power to shut all of my emotions off with a kill switch. But I don't.

Revenge!

My roommates are fighting because they ate eachother's food. They are screaming at eachother. I've never felt more joyous in my life!! :-)

Oh God I am loving this. They fuck eachother over, too. That is the problem living with animals. One of them is out of bread and screaming at the other. The other was going to buy bread but needed money for cigarettes, it seems.

I love this. It feel so good to hear yelling that is not coming out of my mouth! hahaha