I'm wearing all black today, and I like it. Black shirt, black pants, black undershirt, black socks, black shoes, black tie (with white diamonds, admittedly, but it matches the song). Black black black black. Coal black, shiny black, matte black, the void black of empty space, give it all to me. It's not a goth thing; back when I thought I'd started goth, I had been wearing it because I liked how it looked on me. I still think it's a sexy color. Me? I look very striking today. One big, monolithic black entity. Aside from my skin.
Which reminds me of something funny; a woman came to my window today and the first words out of her mouth were: "I'm glad to see a brother got the job." Now you can imagine me: "Brother, where?" and looking around. I'm black, and I'm white. I'm really neither, at the same time. It's funny, and it's fun. On my job application, they asked me my nationality for the equal opportunity people. I answered: "American."
I am; despite my alternative modes of thought and complete lack of (fanatical) "patriotism;" I'm more American than 90% of people. Which is why I get offended when people say I'm from New Jersey. I'm really not. I was born and bred in the Midwest; by New York area parents, sure, but I grew up in suburban cornfields listening to Johnny Cougar. I like Hank Hill. I may not agree with some of his ideology, but that's what makes us Americans; coexisting not just despite our differences, but with them. I also like his integrity; something we share, I like to think. Upstanding, professional, and pretty reliable. That's something that supercedes national boundaries. It's just something that ought to be. If it needs to be taught, so be it. I'll teach my kids, and I won't say things to them like your face will freeze. Honestly, if my parents had told me the reasoning behind half the rules they gave me, they wouldn't have had half the problems. Some youthful insurgence is to be expected, but all I wanted was to know why. Like that one time I stole an eraser from school (kindergarten). My mom asked me where I got it, and I said I stole it. She told me I'd better return it, and I said ok. She was mad, but didn't punish me; I think because I was honest. That's the kind of kid I was; it's the kind of guy I am.
I'm very proud of how all the disparate thoughts I've been having today managed to come together in this entry.
Yes, I once thought I'd started goth. At least, locally. I was the first one to fit the mold when people here were still feathering their hair.
On second thought, maybe I won't raise my kids well. Maybe I'll be a lackluster father so that I spare them grief when I die. Isn't that what a good father would want for his kids? For his death to not affect them too badly?
You don't feel you could love me, but I feel you could.
I'm 100% me.