[tinag@talk] That’s it. You get off my back if you ever want to see your server.

[ralphh@talk] What? Where is it? Is it okay? What have you done?

[tinag@talk] First, to prove that I still have it, here’s a picture of … it.

I actually gasped when I opened the picture of my server, bound and blindfolded.

[tinag@talk] Second, tomorrow you will receive, in the mail, the power button. The day after, a CD drive. On the third day, you’ll receive the power cable. And so on. To be perfectly clear: if you ever want to see your server in one piece, you will leave me alone starting right now.

[ralphh@talk] Listen, Tina, we can reason. I know you’re hurting inside, deep down. That’s the only thing that could cause this. But we can work through it. As a team! We can find …. we can find you some help, some professional help.

[tinag@talk] Bye for now.

[system@talk] User tinag has closed the conversation window.

When I’m at work, I’m a buoyant fount of comedy and helpfulness. I’m significantly less so at home.

I now generally have a tendency towards low self esteem. I default to Deny, Failure, and Loss. But as far as my fatherhood, I take it seriously. I put time and thought into my actions. I put a lot of work into it. To confess less than peachy at home is hard.

There was this conference I was going to go to. The Mankind Project. More of a ‘finding yourself’ retreat, but I imagine it as something with mannish versions of The Trust Game. One of the testimonies in the brochure I had read something like this:

“I was in wonderful relationships with my family, but I wasn’t expressing who I was. I had lost the exuberance of my youth, and this weekend I found that and am now sharing who I am with my family. It’s been life changing.”

I found some truth in that, in relation to the work/family dynamic. I mean, what is it about my Dadness that can’t be as lighthearted? A visitor wouldn’t see it. They’d see that I get down on my hands and knees and play – often, too much even. I get grass stains on my work slacks because of it. They’d see I let my kids climb all over me, and I make jokes often with my wife.

But it’s not the same, it’s not really me. It’s just a part of me.

The old me, before kids, was a bit flamboyant. I took better personal care of my self and how I dressed. I was a wise-ass, all the time. I was very upbeat and lighthearted. I really enjoyed being around myself.

I can’t tell where the darkness creeped in. I somehow became someone different at home. Please don’t misunderstand me – I don’t prowl the halls at midnight like a savage beast with blood dripping off my fangs. I get home and immediately pick up my kids in my arms, and go play. We set the table, we all have dinner together. I usually get to bathe both of them and put them to sleep. I Am Not A Dad Who Comes Home And Sits In A Recliner To Unwind. I strongly reject that concept.

What I’m trying to say, and what I fear will be misconstrued, is this:

I don’t understand why I act differently at home and feel less like myself. I don’t know where the real me goes, and I’m uncomfortable scared about that.

Having admitted this to myself, for the first time, I wonder what tonight will be like.

Me: “I want to return these two movies.”
Him: “Okay.”
Me: “Also, I found my keys finally so I can turn that car on now.”
Him: “Oh, did you bring it or something?”
Me: “Yeah.”

Him: “Here? Now?”

Me: “Yeah, you wanna go look?”

(He sprints out of the store, out to the parking lot. I have just enough time to turn it on and have the CD player kick in before he goes back inside the store. When I finally catch up with him …)

Me: “So what do you think?”
Him: “How much you asking for it?”
Me: “$200.”
Him: “I’ll give you $185.”

Me: “Okay.”

Him: “Um …. ”
Me: “What was that, haggling?”
Him: “I thought that’s what we were supposed to do … ”
Me: “Yeah, I guess. I’ve never really done that before … ”
Him: “Me neither. Oh well.”

What some of you plain blood folks may not know is that we get special calls.

“Is this Ralph Hogaboom?”
“Yes.”
“Hi Ralph, I’m Denise and I’m calling from the Puget Sound Blood Center. How are you today?”
“I’m good.”
“I’m so happy to hear that!”
“Thanks!”
“You’re in Port Townsend, right?”
“Yeah.”
“How’s the weather up there today? I heard you guys are in a rain shadow…”
“Oh, it’s balmy here Denise.”
“Lucky!”
“Yeah.”

Eventually we get ’round to scheduling a time for me to come in. See, when your blood is as valuable as mine, they respect your time a little more.

They also do reminder phone calls, ’cause they want my blood.

They’re also unfailingly nice at the blood center. They know I’m different than others because the check-in lady says “And here’s someone else for you … he has a 10 AM appt.”

That’s code for “He has an appointment, that means he has valuable blood. Treat this one well.”

I don’t love getting treated this way. It’s more accurate to say I looooooooooooooove being treated this way. I’m over a half gallon for the last 12 months; when I hit a gallon of blood donated, I get a new pin! I’m pretty excited.

Got a phone call tonite.

Unknown Caller: “This is …. Bob … with Sprint PCS wireless … you’ve been preselected to receive a Sprint PCS free wireless-”

Me: Really? That sounds like a great deal!

Bob from Sprint: “Good. Then all I need is to confirm your billing address.”

Me: Okay, I’m ready.

Bob from Sprint: “Your address is one-three-two-four fourteen … th … Street in Port Townsend Washington, 98368?”

(brief silence)

Me: I can’t tell you that.

Bob from Sprint: “What do you mean?”

Me: Well, that’s something that I just can’t tell you. Next question.

Bob from Sprint: (laughing) “You can’t tell me? Sir, I need to confirm this mailing address for you to qualify.”

Me: Do what you gotta do.

Bob from Sprint: “Uhhh … okay .. What? I don’t understand …”

Me: What do I have to do?

Bob from Sprint: “Tell …. tell me your … confirm your mailing address. Is this Ralph H – O – G – A – B – O – O – M ?”

Me: Yes, it is.

Bob from Sprint: “And you do receive mail at one-three-two-four 14th street in Port Townsend, Washington, 98368?”

Me: There is no way I can tell you that information. I can neither confirm or deny that.

Bob from Sprint: “Wait … I …. uh, where do you live? Do you live in a house? … I don’t understand!”