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by David Todd McCarty | Wednesday, July 13, 2016

When my stepson was very small, he liked to talk about things that he had experienced, sometimes as recently as a week before or even a few days. It’s not like he could remember very far back. He didn’t have years worth of memories. It was more like weeks or months. A few weeks was a lifetime to him.

He would say, “Remember that time when we went to the beach, with you and mommy?”

“Yes,” I’d say. It had been just the previous weekend.

“That was fun,” he would say and smile.

He just wanted to relive the memory with someone. I think it was his way of looking at the world in a romantic light. His daydreams of what had been. He was always a romantic; always creating costumes, and imagining himself as other people.

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by David Todd McCarty | Monday, July 11, 2016

The American grocery store, or supermarket as they are sometimes called, is a thing of freakish wonder to begin with. The sheer volume of goods, most of it not real food, is astounding and frightening. The latest trend are the gourmet grocery stores like Fresh Fields and Trader Joe’s. They have aisles of packaged goods marked organic or vegan with a new list of ingredients you’ve never heard of. National soda brands are gone, but there are plenty of fruit juices that will rot your teeth just the same, and are made by the national brands. It’s all a facade.

Lots of women wearing lululemon yoga pants pushing their tiny carts, with bags of seaweed flavored snack crisps and fizzy fruit juice. It’s all just chips and soda dear.

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by David Todd McCarty | Wednesday, June 1, 2016

We, the members of the internet, just wanted to say a few words in defense of you who so diligently keep us informed on Facebook and other social media outlets to all the vital conspiracy theories, racist rants, urban myths, and fear-based flotsam and jetsam. You provide a valuable public service and don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.

It’s takes a special kind of selfless public servant to regularly pass along obviously suspect information with zero criticism or awareness. Not just anyone can click share without a thought to intent, meaning or impact.

We’ve been talking amongst ourselves and we really like the posts about poignant subjects such as guns, congress, war, or gorillas, written by such awe-inspiring luminaries as Jodie Foster, Abraham Lincoln, Morgan Freeman, and Thomas Edison.

It’s astounding that Lincoln had such insights into the internet, or that Morgan Freeman happened to make a comment that was oddly in tune with our personal beliefs, but there they are, in plain type across a picture of them. We didn’t even know Jodie Foster was that political. But no one would post it if it weren’t true, so it’s good to know that our celebrities have such wisdom.

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Originally posted in 2005.
When I was in grade school, we had a genius who lived in my closet and smelled of garlic. He lived on the third floor of our house, slept at odd hours of the day, and kept his mail in our cereal cabinet. It’s a credit to my absolute belief in the normalcy of my family, that I didn’t find this strange in the least.
 
The genius and I shared the third floor, which was basically a converted attic. His bed was near a large walk-in closet and that is where he kept most of his processions including his TV. Most nights, while I was trying to fall asleep, he would be watching TV. The light would emanate from inside the closet like some weird Close Encounters moment, backlighting his inert body. The sound would be just loud enough to be distracting, but not loud enough to be entertaining.
 
How he came to live with us escapes me now, but what I do know is that my father had known him for years, and the genius, being without a place to live at the time, had been invited to come live with us. His name was Tom.

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by David Todd McCarty | Thursday, August 27, 2015

 

I don’t do cards. Not for birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, baptisms, funerals or Christmas. Never did. I don’t believe in them.

In 1996 I met a woman who didn’t believe in cards either. We were married a year later. I’m not saying that was the only reason, but certainly a contributing factor.

She also liked John Denver, so there’s that.

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by David Todd McCarty | Thursday, August 27, 2015

 

I can’t stand people who only talk about themselves.

Why should I be concerned about your life, your kids, your needs, your fears, when I have so many other issues to be annoyed by? It’s a little selfish if you ask me.

I don’t want to offend anyone, but seriously, what we really need are more people who are sensitive to the feelings of others. Maybe take a break from your silly problems for a minute to reflect on the ongoing hell that is my life as I try to navigate a world full of people who only think of themselves. It’s crazy, right? I can’t be the only one who feels this way.

Take Facebook for instance.

Do we really need to read another post from some blowhard who believes he knows better than everyone else? “I don’t like this. I like this. You should think this way. Your an idiot.“

It gets old right?

Here’s the thing about your self-involvement that is annoying me.read more

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by David Todd McCarty | Saturday, August 22, 2015

The world will break your heart ten ways to Sunday. That’s guaranteed. I can’t begin to explain that. Or the craziness inside myself and everyone else. But guess what? Sunday’s my favorite day again. I think of what everyone did for me, and I feel like a very lucky guy.

– Silver Linings Playbook

When I was a kid, Sundays were always very special days in my house. First, there was always church. My father was an elder and we were involved in Sunday school and youth group. My parents held small groups and Bible studies. We recruited kids to go to Vacation Bible School in the summer and participated in Christmas Pageants in the winter.

But after church, we rested. My parents were serious about the Day of Rest. And rest we did.

We would all have lunch together, usually something fairly light, and then it was free time. We rarely did things as a family on Sunday outside of church, unless you consider napping together on the coach, family time. We all kind of went our separate ways. Read a book. Watched TV. Go outside to play.

It was glorious.

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by David Todd McCarty | Monday, August 10, 2015

 

I’m an inside guy. I like being inside. Everyone wants me to go outside—especially my wife. But almost everything I want to do is inside. Inside is nice. It’s warm in the winter, and cool in the summer. I have wireless, my computer, my books, a nice chair, ice, alcohol. It’s all right there in one convenient place. Isn’t this why we moved out of the wilderness and built homes in the first place? It’s nice inside.

I wasn’t always this way. There was a time where I was much more of an outdoors guy. Golfing. Surfing. Hiking. Camping. Fishing. Biking.

I used to mow my own lawn. I liked it. There is a lot to be said about mowing your own lawn. I found it very therapeutic. Very organized. Nice sense of accomplishment. But now I have a service and I complain about how they mow my lawn. It’s not the same.

I just don’t feel the pressure to be outside like I used to. I think a lot of it comes down to the fact that I no longer give a shit if I’m tan. This is why I don’t really go to the beach anymore. I haven’t been surfing in awhile and I really don’t care if I’m tan. I just sit there, sweating, thinking, “Man, it’s really hot. How long until we can go home?” I swear the best part about going to the beach was coming home.

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by David Todd McCarty | Wednesday, August 5, 2015

 

I’m sure that should just be the title of my blog. You People Are Pissing Me Off. Also the title of my autobiography and the inscription on my tombstone, two things my father likes to point out when faced with an undeniable self-truth: “That’s should be the title of your autobiography.”

Another recent revelation came in the form of an email I wrote to said father, in response to an email he sent out to the family where he explained that he had struggled his whole life with being a success. How important it was to him. How much pressure he put on himself. How he too often felt less than perfect. I replied that while I didn’t think I was any healthier than he was, I was, in fact, my own favorite person. We’re not sure where that came from. Some would call it egocentric, maybe even selfish, but it’s much more complicated than that.

I’m an introvert. Not many people actually knows what that means. Most people, or at least most extroverts, think it means you’re shy, or quiet. It doesn’t. It also doesn’t mean the same thing to everyone. But in a nutshell, it means I don’t like crowds, loud noises, small talk, parties, lots of stimuli or more or less anything that doesn’t interest me. I prefer writing to speaking. I prefer to work on my own, not in a group. I need time to think and expand on topics before I have an opinion about them. I prefer to spend time alone than almost anything. Yes, I know, it sounds very anti-social.

The fact is, most introverts are highly intelligent, very sensitive, emotional beings. We just don’t have any patience for your bullshit and we need a lot of down time.

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