Issue 44: A Week In The Life

"A Dispatch a day keeps the devil away"

Chris Pine

Monday:

Dear Dispatchery,

Today we finally live up to the “Daily” in “Daily Dispatch”. People have asked me in a variety of ways, with various degrees of kindness or judgment, “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Well, this week you will get a filtered glimpse as I will be writing a daily recap of some things I pondered and discussed.

I found a new podcast this morning called “Radio Rental”. It’s pretty good. Some spooky stories with a fun little presentation. If you like true crime, check this out. It’s real people telling their real stories. Rainn Wilson is involved for fans of the movie Super.

I found out my buddy Rudy Camacho is secretly a soccer star for the MLS champions Columbus. It kinda pissed me off considering we asked him to join our rec league soccer team years ago…

Should I buy a charachorder keyboard? For someone who writes a few thousand words a week, I type very slowly. Charachorder claims, with their funky keyboard, you can type at the speed of thought. It’s also expensive and weird so idk.

My brother Cole and I discussed art, specifically music, and whether or not there is a way to quantify its value/goodness outside of popularity. Is something good because it is popular? Is it more valuable to master a craft or to innovate? This stemmed from Cole finally watching the Eagles (band) documentary. They were masters more than innovators yet are responsible for the top selling album of all time and the third highest selling album of all time. Sandwiched between them at #2 is the innovator Michael Jackson.

I spent a solid four hours adding and editing products on the new Daily Drip shop. It is a much more laborious process than when we were running on Etsy. Screw Etsy by the way. Shutting us down for no reason. Such is the life of a renegade though. Genius is often not understood in its time.

Tuesday:

If you’re bad at driving, figure it out.

There isn’t much more to say.

I used to hate the thought of a future full of self-driving cars. There is something to be said for the freedom of four wheels and no place in particular to go. There is an art in someone who “knows a shortcut”. While talking to Cole the other day, we spoke of how certain songs evoke certain memories. The song, “New Kid In Town” by the Eagles always makes me think of driving the Natchez Trace with my windows down when the weather was nice. I teach high schoolers on Sunday mornings at our church. Recently a few of them have been getting their licenses and first cars. There is so much freedom and possibility that comes from a little plastic card and a set of keys.

That said, some of you can’t handle the responsibility. This is not a rant solely about incompetence. In fact, that is more forgivable. If you get confused or generally anxious, just do your best to follow the rules and stay out of the way. It is you arrogant, reckless, and aggressive tyrants I have a problem with.

There used to be an unspoken position on hockey teams more-or-less thought of as the enforcer. This was the guy that would get on the ice to bust someone up and reset or flip the tone of the game. Jordin Tootoo was that guy for the Nashville Predators for a time. I think I should be given a special license by the United States government to hit one driver (not causing a big wreck or anything) once a quarter. I think I am a tough but fair judge of driving intent. The guy who sees a blinker and floors it to guarantee someone can’t get over; they get hit. My car is fully replaced by our government and I face no penalty. That person will change their ways and the roads will be safer. (Niki reading this will say that I, too, will sometimes block people from merging but those are special circumstances when the person trying to merge is being a jerk or reckless and I am trying to teach them a lesson. She will also say that is not my job, but what I’m saying is it should be.) The person who is behind you on an on ramp that gets onto the interstate first and then guns it around you putting you in a dangerous spot; they get hit. The person who flies down a straight lane and then turns in front of a long turning lane causing people to stop mid-turn to avoid a wreck; they get hit.

Ideally, I’m allowed to form a task force. Those overly aggressive and arrogant drivers who believe their time is more valuable than anyone else’s will eventually learn there are consequences and begin to change. I’m happy to reevaluate the program every two years and eventually end it if there is a measurable decrease in drivers I deem “assholes”.

Note to the reader: Nothing happened today to lead me to this train of thought. This is something I think about often.

Wednesday:

I’m very lucky. I don’t win a lot of scratch-offs or find money in my jacket pockets, but I’m just lucky. Also, I’m not lucky in the sense of that old joke that says, “Have you seen my dog? He has brown fur. He’s missing his right ear, is blind in one eye, and has three legs. He answers to the name of Lucky.” Maybe I’m not even that lucky, just thankful.

First of all, I’m married to my best friend and truly have the love of my life. That’s lucky. Look at me, I’m nothing to write home about in the looks department and you’ve seen glimpses of the oddity that lives in this brain, yet I get to spend the rest of my life with a beautiful, brilliant, hilarious, deeply compassionate woman who is also the person I, and many others, want to spend as much time with as humanly possible. I have written extensively about Niki and will continue to do so in the future, but that is not what today’s entry is about. That said, Niki did inspire this by reminding me how unique my guys group of friends are.

I’m aware the concept of friendship is not unique to our group. I know close friends are not in the same class as unicorns and bigfoot. That said, the closeness, longevity, and size of this guys group is special. Most of us met in college our freshman year by joining a Bible study with a particular campus ministry based on where on campus you resided. Then a few of us really became close. Others joined the following year and eventually, through some addition and subtraction, our group formed into a nucleus of around ten guys that has remained consistent. Again, this summary isn’t going to blow your minds. Nobody is taking notes on how to form a friend group based on that. That said, a decade later we have fought with each other, laughed with each other, cried with each other, and genuinely supported one another in ways I rarely see.

Great sports programs or successful companies often cite a certain culture or mindset that defines them and has led them to where they are. Our friend group has formed something similar. A curious mind, an inclination for wanting others to succeed, if we’re being honest… a love for argument, and original humor have been defining characteristics of those who have stayed in, or joined, the group. Within the last few years a guy named Jayson, who was originally friends with my buddy Andrew, began hanging out with us. One of the things I have loved about this group is that even though Jayson didn’t go to school with us, hadn’t been on the first few trips, and didn’t know the characters in a lot of “remember when”s, he integrated seamlessly into the group. He has whatever it is that defines the group as a whole. I truly believe it is because our bond is not held up by convenience, shared memories, or even a mutual affinity for certain hobbies. Our bond is something deeper. I can’t really explain it, I realize 500 words in, but it’s palpable. Maybe, as a writer who is prone to romanticizing the common, I’m making more of this than there is to be had, but I truly don’t think so. I feel as if I was in the right place at the right time to be caught up in a tornado of goofiness, pointless arguments, and genuine love for one another, only to look up ten years later miles from where I began. Again, maybe I’m just thankful, but damn do I feel lucky.

Thursday:

Today is a leap day and, frankly, I don’t really care.

I don’t know most things.

Isn’t that kinda weird to think about? Like, I know a lot of stuff, but in the grand scheme of things, I don’t know most of them. And, no offense, neither do you.

I know about sports and bespoke playing cards and the ridiculousness of the lyric “Suckin’ on a chili dog outside the Tastee Freez” in the song Jack & Diane. But I don’t know much about the stars. I don’t know the political climate of Norway. I don’t know what kombucha is.

Isn’t that strange to think about? I’ve been learning stuff every day for nearly 30 years and don’t know 1% of things that can be known. Here’s the scarier thought: I likely never will know 1% of all there is to be known. At this point, the things to be known are outpacing my ability to learn. Like, if I learned something new every second of every day, I’d still know less of a percentage of stuff than I do now.

Friday:

My journey of daily ramblings ends here. Thank you for joining me on this ride. Here at the end of one journey, I find myself reminiscing on the beginning of another. My writing journey began as a kid writing poetry. I have stayed away from that medium for the most part in my writings here, but I’ve composed a little piece I hope you’ll enjoy. It goes a little something like this:

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shootin’ stars
I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now
Yeah, I could use a dream or a genie or a wish
To go back to a place much simpler than this
‘Cause after all the partyin’ and dashin’ and crashin’
And all the glitz and glam and the fashion
And all the pandemonium and all the madness
There comes a time where you fade to the blackness
And when you’re starin’ at the phone in your lap
And you hopin’ but the Wall Street Journal never calls you back
But that’s just how the story unfolds
You get another hand soon after you fold
And when your plans unravel in the sand
What would you wish for, if you had one chance?
So airplane, airplane sorry I’m late
I’m on my way so don’t close that gate
If I don’t make that, then I’ll switch my flight
And I’ll be right back at it by the end of the night
Yeah, yeah, somebody take me back to the days
Before this was a job, before I got paid
Before it ever mattered what I had in my bank
Yeah, back when I was tryna get a tip at Subway
And back then I was blogin’ for the hell of it
But nowadays we blogin’ to stay relevant
I’m guessin’ that if we can make some wishes out of airplanes
Then maybe, oh maybe, I’ll go back to the days
Before the politics that we call the blog game
And back when ain’t nobody read my ramblings
And back before when I tried to cover up my slang
But this is for Franklin, what’s up Mr. Gentry?
So can I get a wish to end the politics?
And get back to the writing that started all of this
So here I stand and then again I say
I’m hoping we can make some wishes out of airplanes

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