Always the same…

There is a never-ending shitstorm of bad news from an administration hellbent on destroying people’s lives.

Anyone with a single shred of basic human decency can see it.

There is a loud consensus as of late that if you’re not publicly screeching about what’s going on in the world, you’re contributing to the problem. If you’re not filling your Twitter/Facebook/Instagram/[insert social media platform of choice] feeds with outrage, you are helping the opposition.

Silence equals compliance.

I’ve done more than my fair share of screaming into the void with everyone else, though I make a conscious effort not to. It’s not doing anybody any actual good, and it’s just not nearly as cathartic as it once was. (see: the entirety of my livejournal) The stuff I do put out isn’t anything constructive, it’s just that things have reached a breaking point and [literally] screaming at my computer screen (alone, in my house) can only relieve so much stress. Does posting an angry tirade on Twitter really help? No. Not really. But it happens. Because sometimes I don’t know what else to do. We all have our coping methods. Meltdowns on public forums are part of my deal. I can count on one hand the number of people who actually see what I post on a given platform. I’m not influencing anybody over here. Nor do I have any desire to. I’m just trying to survive on a daily basis, just like everyone else.

Words are in short supply as of late.

I keep opening WordPress, staring at it, and closing the tab without writing anything.

I want to write about ANYTHING other that what’s going on in the world as of late, but it’s difficult to focus on anything but. I don’t have anything useful to contribute to the conversation. Screaming into the void is just adding to the endless noise. And while venting can be healthy and cathartic, it’s not what I want to expend my already limited amount of mental energy on. I spend plenty of time talking to Bob about all of it, I don’t want to spend even more writing about it too. (Yet, this post is still happening. Whatever.)

I’ve started and abandoned so many posts about other things recently. None of them make it very far before I just don’t have the energy to continue. So I close the tab and try to find something else to focus on, but focus is not happening either.

It’s that time of the year. February and March hit almost as hard as the summertime SAD slump. It’s not fun, but it’s not new, and once I finally manage to identify it, I can better find ways to cope until it passes.

Because it will pass.

Everything sucks in the meantime, but IT WILL PASS.

Between the lines…

I keep opening up WordPress and staring at my dashboard thinking I need to write something, but mostly I just hear a lot of screaming inside my head. This is because I usually just read the latest headline regarding a certain deranged, blaze orange, narcissistic game show host who’s about to be given free reign over nuclear weapons and all his willfully ignorant and deranged cult followers.

But I don’t want to talk about that.

Instead, listing…

1.) I’ve been listening to the same music on repeat. This isn’t exactly a new thing, but my sanity is at critical mass regarding the aforementioned Shit I Don’t Want To Talk About and I need to maintain some semblance of calm in my bad addled brain. Nothing achieves that quite like listening to music I love ad nauseam. Right now we’ve got O.A.R., Andy Grammer, Eric Hutchinson, and Ingram Hill in heavy rotation. They are good for the soul.

2.) The Christmas tree still stands in the living room, in part because I am a procrastinator, and in part because I don’t want to put away the lights. I want to keep the lights up year round. I don’t need the tree or the ornaments, just the lights. I wonder if I could convince Robert to let me hang some in the loft…

3.) Basil seems to have expended all of his Tyler pipe dreams. Which is a bit of a blessing and relief, but he’s also being obnoxiously quiet on ideas in general. Because of course he is. There is no in between with him. Because he’s an asshole. But we’ve been over this.

4.) I’ve come to the conclusion that there is really only one story in the active list that is truly viable in its current state. As in, it has a definitive start and end point, and a clear plot in the middle. I’ve been beating my head against the wall over it for over a decade at this point (or half a decade as it currently exists) but it’s the one I should really be focusing on. Perhaps I should be listening to the Ben & Marina soundtrack on repeat for inspiration.

5.) I have a long list of house projects I need to get done but my focus is shot. (No–no, more than usual.) They are mostly small things that would take little time to complete, and having it done would make a lot of other things so much easier, but…ech… (see list item number one)

6.) Costco stopped selling Sobe vitamin water so we switched to the Vitamin Water brand. It’s taken some adjustment because we are creatures of habit and resistant to change. Something so insignificant shouldn’t cause such a disturbance, but we’re great like that. The orange flavor tastes like watered down Tang. Watered down Tang reminds me of the Farm. That was always pretty much the only available beverage for YEARS because well water wasn’t suitable for drinking. Christmas this year had me feeling a little wistful about the Farm. The family is gearing up to sell it now that both my grandparents are gone and it feels really weird to know that I’m probably never going to see the place again. I didn’t spend nearly as much time there as a lot of my cousins (or even my siblings) but it’s always been THERE and it won’t be long before it’s gone. (Or under new ownership, that is.)

7.) Life. It’s weirdly exhausting.

A Year in Review…2016…

Another year.

Another recap.

2017 is the Year of the Rooster.

2011…The House…
2012…Denver and Andy Grammer…
2013…If it Ain’t One Thing…
2014…The Phantom Smoke Stench…
2015…WTF Day Is It…

2016 was The Year of…The Whole Gaddamn World is on Fire…

Seriously. It’s been a year. Oh ye gods.

It’s a common (proven?) theory that things always get worse before they get better. But how much worse do things have to get before the corner is turned? 2016 was awful in so many ways for so many people and everyone is ready for it to just be DONE. Though that was the consensus at the end of 2015 as well, with the belief that 2016 had to be better and it turned out so much worse. Will 2017 continue the trend? Or will we finally get that turn around so many so desperately need? I don’t pride myself in the least on being a perpetual pessimist. But it is difficult to see things any other way when so many people are in so much pain.

Here’s hoping 2017 brings about positive change, even if it takes the whole year to get it.

1.) Where did you ring in 2016?
We marathoned the entirety of Breaking Bad over our Christmas break and finished it out on NYE.

2.) What did you do in 2016 that you’d never done before?
I died my hair blue. I liked it but it was short-lived, and it’s way too much work to maintain.

3.) Did you keep your new year’s resolutions and will you make more for next year?
Dead horses and all that.

4.) Did anyone close to you get engaged or married?
My cousin was supposed to get married in October, but they cancelled the whole thing two weeks before the date without explanation. (Though they are still together.)

5.) Did anyone close to you become pregnant or give birth?
One of my cousins welcomed his second baby the same week our grandma died.

6.) Did anyone close to you die?
My grandma died in February. She was 99, six months shy of her 100th birthday. Now Bob and I no longer have any surviving grandparents.

7.) How did you earn your keep?
I am a housewife, dammit. (Not even close.)

8.) What countries places did you visit?
We didn’t go anywhere this year. We are okay with this.

9.) What would you like to have in 2017 that you lacked in 2016?
A decent sleep schedule.

10.) What dates from 2016 will remain etched upon your memory and why?
There are a lot of depressing and tragic dates associated with this year. I’m picking a happy one.
September 30th, seeing Andy Grammer and Gavin DeGraw play live.

11.) What was your biggest achievement of the year?
I survived. It has been a rough year for many reasons. But I survived.

12.) What was your biggest failure?
I didn’t get as much stuff done as I wanted to.

13.) Did you suffer illness or injury?
I had a mystery plague in the middle of summer that lasted a full week and took another couple months for my system to fully rebound.

14.) Did you ever encounter the police?
I should change this question to “Did anyone crash into one of your cars?” because that is the only reason we ever encounter the police. No police this time, but Bob did get a new bumper from a bad driver. (It was minor. Everyone is fine.)

15.) What was the best thing you bought?
Concert tickets to see Andy Grammer and Gavin DeGraw.

16.) Where did most of your money go?
House stuff, car repairs, and medical bills.

17.) What did you get really excited about?
New music and live music. Bob got really excited about Final Fantasy XV.

18.) Compared to this time last year, are you…
…happier or sadder? Angrier. Read the news.
…thinner or fatter? Thinner, somehow.
…richer or poorer? Richer, I suppose. Bob got a new job.

19.) What do you wish you’d done more of?
Cleaning and organizing, as usual.

20.) What do you wish you’d done less of?
Reading the news and crying.

21.) How did you spend Christmas?
Christmas Eve with my family. Christmas Day with Bob’s.

22.) What are your short and long term goals for 2017?
Short Term: Annual appointments.
Long Term: Organize my iTunes library and rip all the CDs I don’t have in digital format yet.

23.) What was your favorite TV program?
We watched the first season of Mr. Robot. It was pretty good, if a little Tyler Durden-ish.

24.) What were your favorite books of the year?
I didn’t finish anything that was particularly memorable this year. I really need to read more books.

25.) What was your favorite music from this year?
O.A.R., Gavin DeGraw, and Nine Days all put out new music that got heavy play.

26.) What song will always remind you of 2016?
She Sets the City on Fire by Gavin DeGraw. Because the switch flipped on Sir GDG.

27.) What were your favorite films of the year?
We watched a lot of movies. I’ll say Lazer Team. Because Rooster Teeth. Or Rogue One. Because Star Wars.

28.) What did you do on your birthday and how old were you?
I turned 37. What.
It was a Saturday. I had a headache. We ordered Chinese food for dinner and died my hair blue.

29.) What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
A different election result. JFC.

30.) How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2016?
Pajamas and hoodies every single day.

31.) What kept you sane?
Bob and music. Always.

32.) Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
O.A.R. and Andy Grammer are still front and center and the switch flipped on Gavin DeGraw.

33.) Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2016.
Some people just want to watch the world burn. And just when you think the flames might be getting a little lower, somebody hucks another 55 gallon drum of gasoline onto the heap.

One eye on the clock…

Sleep has been an elusive little bastard lately.

Though that detail seems a little irrelevant at this moment. I started writing this in the middle of the night, but now I’m editing it in the middle of the afternoon. Because I am efficient like that.

I’ve lost count how many times I’ve started and deleted this post in the last twenty-four hours. (More like forty-eight at this point.) In part because I’ve been in a foul mood and everything just comes out as a bunch of bitching and whining. In part because I don’t have any real clear idea of what I even want to write about. I just feel like I need to write something here, so I keep hacking and slashing at this draft, hoping something worth saving* will manifest on the screen.

I average about one post a month around these parts.

I used to write more.

Sometimes I still do.

It’s certainly not for lack of trying. I open up blank drafts (or existing ones) all the time. But I generally stare at the blinking cursor for an indeterminate amount of time, before closing it out and return to tabbing between Twitter and Word.

I suppose if all else fails, I could easily ramble on for a few hundred (or thousand) words about whatever story project I’ve been beating myself about the head over. There’s no shortage of commentary in that department. But the true challenge with that idea, is writing something that actually makes sense. My thought process when working through ideas (and their multitude of details and problems) is so disjointed. When I write about it here, I put a hell of a lot of effort into making sure it makes sense, so when I come back to it somewhere down the line (because I always do) I have at least some idea of what the hell I was talking about.

My biggest issue tends to be that everything sounds so damn cryptic, even though it isn’t meant to be. Like I’m protecting my ideas from getting spoiled or stolen, so I have to be super careful about what I say. I have no intentions or delusions of publishing this stuff I’m writing, so keeping details under lock and key isn’t a high priority concern at this point. I just want to finish something for me. Bonus points if I don’t absolutely hate it.

But really, there are only so many posts I can spit out in a row of incessant babbling about stories before even I’m just JFC SHUT UP ABOUT IT ALREADY.

I annoy myself.

I haven’t made much progress on any one story as of late. I’ve been jabbing at a lot of different ones, and maybe if I combined all that I’ve written into one place, it would add up to a lot, but on a single project? Not so much. I keep revisiting the same ideas, trying to figure out what the block is preventing progress. A lot of it is lack of a proper timeline. Narrative is always a bitch. And some are just vacant in the overall plot department. I’ve designed half a dozen floor plans in the past couple weeks, but the stories they’re intended for have barely moved.

And then there’s the ever-helpful** BASIL and his relentless WHATIF campaign.

What if you combined these two lackluster ideas to make one much more interesting story? Wait–wait, what if you added in this third plotline? Hold on, what if you took that one idea and wedged it into this story that’s super boring? You’d have to pretty much rewrite everything you have written, but it could work. Hey, this story doesn’t have Tyler in it. We need to shoehorn him in there somewhere. Let’s take this story from ten years ago and update it with a complete cast overhaul and major plot changes and Tyler. Wait—hear me out—what if…


Though I am considering one of those. Taking an idea that falls a little short on its own and combining it with one that’s far too boring—even for me—and potentially making something else entirely. It would require a hell of a lot of rewrites to make it work. It would change A LOT with the dynamic of the characters. (It already has Tyler, but it would add some pieces to his story that are currently lacking.)

I just don’t know if it’s actually a feasible idea, or if I’m just grasping at straws on a story that really isn’t salvageable. I’m not ready to let it roll over and die just yet. I’m convinced there is a way to fix it. I just don’t know if THIS is it. It would really change a lot with the dynamic of the characters, and I don’t know if I actually like what those changes would be.

Worst case scenario, I try making the changes and it’s a colossal failure. But then I would know, instead of constantly wondering about Basil’s latest whatif, and not getting any writing done because I’m too distracted by that one thing.

If I take my time figuring out what needs to be changed with the existing material, it could work. The story as is, is lacking conflict. This would add some. But I don’t know if it would feel like it’s a natural part of the story, or if it would feel like I just crammed it in there as an afterthought just to make conflict where there really is none. I could be just making everything far more convoluted than it needs to be.

Which…is really every story I’ve ever written.



* I stared at that line for far too long, thinking it seemed weird, until I finally realized that it’s the title of Gavin DeGraw’s latest album. Despite my penchant for using song lyrics as post titles, that was completely unintentional.

** Not at all helpful. Seriously. Not at all.

Damn these days…

Insomnia and anxiety are great, I don’t know what you’re talking about.

There are so many things I could be writing about, but they’re not getting written because I just don’t have the mental fortitude for it. I write plenty of posts dumping out raw emotions that never get published. They just sit in the drafts folder never to see the light of day. It feels better to purge my brain, and everything I write here, I write for me, but some things just don’t necessarily warrant public perusal. I haven’t kept a private journal in years—I’ve started many, but never maintained—I guess posts that sit unpublished serve that purpose these days. It works, I suppose.


Instead I’ve been writing.

… I’ve spilled several thousand words on a dumb fanfiction venture because sometimes you just need to give your brain a little reprieve and focus on something silly. It’s ridiculous and stupid and it entertains me endlessly.

… I’ve been plotting a way to combine two existing storylines into one. Separately they fall a little flat, but together they actually have some substance. But they’ve been tackled from so many angles over the years, I need to make sure I have my characters in order before I start pounding out words, or it will implode before I even really get started.

… It amuses me how inspiration can strike from even the most minuscule details. I read something that someone else wrote, and one, tiny little comment stuck in my brain that rapidly morphed and mutated into an entire storyline (or several, if I’m being honest). And while I thought it was just my warped imagination running rampant with exaggeration, months down the line, I’ve apparently hit the nail right on the head. Some people are just easy to figure out, I guess.

… I’ve been mulling over a number of ideas sitting in the active writing folder, seeking inspiration, wondering what I could do to make them work better. There’s one in particular that I really want to be working on. I have some stuff written for it (actual narrative!) that I really like, but the over-arcing plotline is just so boring that it’s really difficult to know what to do with it. I’m a total sucker for the everyday mundane, but this stuff is a total snooze-fest even for me.

… When I’m fumbling around trying to put together character lists or timelines, I retreat to my home architect program and start designing houses for these as yet unwritten stories. Or redesign existing floorplans to better fit the tales they’re intended for. I spend hours working on plans and perusing house plan websites for inspiration. It just adds to the excess of information I have rolling around in my head on any given story project that really has no relevance to the actual story, but it’s there if the need ever arises. And it’s much easier to describe surroundings if I have a visual reference to study.

… Writing. The bane of my existence and the love of my life. Both at the same time.


She’s such a piece of work—her husband too. She is totally one of those people that will carry on endlessly about how much she absolutely loves both of her children and she couldn’t possibly choose a favorite, but it’s blatantly obvious that she does favor one over the other to an extreme degree. In her case, she fawns all over her younger son, and her first born barely gets any attention by comparison. They’re always so irrationally harsh with him and I’ve never seen him do a damn thing wrong. I just don’t get it. He’s smart, he’s sweet, he works hard. He’s an amazing kid and his parents don’t see it at all. They’ll totally take credit for it if someone else points it out, but they don’t actually acknowledge that with him.

Really, at fifteen, he’s leagues smarter than his parents and they’re threatened by that. The only way they know how to cope with it is by trying to make him feel bad about himself, which is the one thing they’re actually good at. Every time they put him down I just want to throttle them. I don’t know how anyone can treat their own child like that.

I just want to hug the shit out of him and tell him he’s worth so much more and deserves so much better.

But who am I?

Just some virtual stranger with no clout to help him.




The whole goddamn world is on fire.

And I don’t want to talk about it.

Today I have squishy feelings because it was nine years ago that I went on a date with a boy I met on the internet. We sat in a Caribou halfway between our respective homes and talked for eight hours. The weather was snow-raining and gray and cold, which is exactly what is happening outside my window right now.

Nine years of my life with this guy.

I say it every time, but it feels like yesterday and a lifetime ago.

We don’t actually celebrate our dating anniversary since we got married, but it’s hard not to at least acknowledge it.

I met him at my absolute lowest point.

He saved my life.

There’s no other way to put it.

Here is a picture of Emerson Mouse hanging from my hair.

This is a highly accurate representation of the goofy-ass things my Robert will do to make me laugh on a daily basis. And especially when it feels like the world is caving in on itself.

I love him.




Swinging at smoke…

Writing is hard.

It’s a very cyclical thing for me. It moves along in stages. What those stages are, how long they last, and whether or not I recognize them as they’re happening all vary on a case by case basis.

Right now I’m in the JFC everything is crap stage.

It happens.

I’ve spent a lot of time staring at my writing folder—like I do—trying to discern what I should be working on. Truth is, I really don’t know.

Once upon a time I went through and summarized all of my “active” projects. It was a lot more difficult than it should have been. And I’ve been trying to do an updated version of it with the current active list for…a long time. It’s an exercise in brevity and it’s incredibly difficult for someone like me who has a tendency to ramble incessantly, especially when it comes to talking about writing.

I want to write a brief summary of the plot, a few notes on where my brain is at on the given project, and a snippet of text from the actual story. Problem is I could go on for hours about each one when “summarizing” the plot. (I might need to lookup the actual definition of the word summarize, because clearly it doesn’t mean what I think it means.) As for where my brain is at with each one, a lot of it generally comes out as fuck if I know. And when it comes to pulling out a few lines of text…I want to take paragraphs.

And then I have a twenty-thousand word post.

Give or take.

I’ve considered doing an individual post on each one in a series. Then I could ramble all I want. But it’s supposed to be about brevity. And while that’s clearly not one of my strong suits, that’s what I want it to be.

So as it goes with everything in writing, I keep hacking and slashing until it resembles something I’m more or less okay with.

Or I shove it back in the drafts folder and forget about it for awhile.

Fair warning…this whole thing is five-thousand-some-odd words. (The last one I did was 3000+…so…)

So much for that whole brevity thing, I guess.

Hey—it’s fairly brief commentary for each story. But once you pile them all together…

Continue reading “Swinging at smoke…”

Emotionally overrun…

I try to keep up with current events in the news so I have at least some idea of what’s going on in the world, but it can really take a harsh toll on my mental health. Especially as of late with the rapidly approaching election and the terrifying prospect of a horrific, degenerate psychopath becoming our next president.


Things that are good…

1.) We ordered new blinds for all of our windows. (All four of them.) The ones that came with the house were poorly installed and ill-maintained and the one in the living room doesn’t even cover the whole (seven-foot-tall) window. There’s also been nothing on the transom over the front door. Both cause a lot of annoyance sitting in the living room with blinding sunlight in the afternoon/evening. We haven’t installed them yet, but we have given ourselves the deadline of November 29th when Final Fantasy XV [finally] comes out and we’ll be spending a lot more time downstairs. I’m excited to have nice, clean, new blinds on all of our windows.

2.) Related, Final Fantasy XV is finally coming out at the end of November. They’ve been stringing fans along for over a decade at this point. Bob is such a huge FF fan and his excitement over the game is so gaddamn adorable I just want to squeeze him. So I do.

3.) This weekend is Bob’s birthday and I’ve made him a ridiculous cake experiment of cheesecake and lemon bars and I have no idea what it’s going to be like when I cut into it, but we’ll see how it turns out. It certainly won’t taste bad. I rarely bake anything these days unless an occasion calls for it, so why not go all out for my husband’s birthday?

4.) We’ve finally had a good run of hoodie weather and it has been a much needed relief for my bad-addled brain. We had to break down and turn the heat on this weekend, but I’ll take layers of blankets over hotter-than-hades any day.

5.) We saw Andy Grammer and Gavin DeGraw play at Mystic Lake. I have many things to say about it (we’ll see if it ever gets written) but in a nutshell…HOT DAMN they are both so fucking good at what they do. I’ve been waiting four years for AG to play a local show at a decent venue and he was SO worth the wait. And while Gavin DeGraw has been on my musical radar for more than a decade, I’d never given much thought to seeing him live, but damn. He’s good.

Gator came with as my Xanax for the night. He hasn’t been to a show since Red Rocks so it was fitting. And deliberate. Gator loves him some AG.

(Back Home [live] by Andy Grammer)

(Something Worth Saving [live] by Gavin DeGraw)

The Seven Year Itch…

Seven years ago I married a boy I met on the internet.

Statistically, we should be seeing a decline in our relationship at this point. The Seven Year Itch is something that actually happens according to research.

I’d say for us, the longer we’re together, the better we get.

Does that make us special?


Not really.

Plenty of people survive statistics.

My parents have been married for fifty years.

It’s not always rainbows and giggles and arguments with stuffed animals. We have ugly conversations and disagreements. We get stressed and irritated and snappy. But we communicate—even when it sucks—and we tend to talk everything to death. Things are far from perfect, but we’re US.

And I love US.

I can be my whole, awkward, weird, inane, obsessive self, and he tells me he loves me for all of it.

He is my sanity and my saving grace.

I love him more than I ever thought possible to love another human being, and I love him more every day.

I always have these elaborate plans in my head for commemorating our anniversary in writing, but really, simplicity works better.

Seven years.

And not the least bit itchy.

Can’t remember all the details…

Writing is a weird beast.

You’d think after two-thirds of my life, I’d learn to just roll with it, but it continually serves to boggle my mind.

I get these elaborate essays built up in my head, but when I sit down to write it out, it’s just an epic disaster of incoherence.

And…I think I just came up with a new tagline for my writing.



I’m writing new things.

And by “new” things, I mean a hodgepodge of existing ideas and characters cobbled together into a plotline that’s been rattling around in my head for a long time, but I never quite knew what to do with it. It has all the proper pieces—a Chance Records artist, a collection of previously used character names, a [different] version of Tyler.

Can I do the story justice? Time will tell. It’s certainly nothing groundbreaking in subject matter, but things are feeling good so far. Which is a welcome relief after so many long months of banging my head against the wall.

We’ll see where it goes.

The Letter…

TL;DR—I’m taking a hiatus from music.

I’ve been told there have apparently been a lot of rumors flying around that I’m in rehab for an addiction problem.

A few weeks ago I was spotted in New York very drunk and then very hungover. Two days later I was spotted at JFK airport and then in Minneapolis. Why else would I be flying to Minneapolis if not to check into the notorious Hazelden rehab clinic? (Never mind they also have a facility in New York.)

I am ashamed to admit it, but the rumors of being drunk and hungover are, in fact, true. I did also fly from New York to Minneapolis that same week, but I didn’t go to check myself into rehab. I flew to Minneapolis because I live there. While I do have a place in New York, my permanent residence is in Minnesota with my wife and son.

Despite the fact that I’ve always worn my wedding ring, it always seems to come as a surprise to people to hear that I’m married. Apparently I don’t give people the impression of family man. I’ve been married for ten years. I’ve been with my wife for fourteen total. We have a twelve-year-old son. I’ve mentioned them before, but they are rarely the center of any conversation relating to my career in music simply to give them a semblance of privacy and normalcy. My wife is not looking for any attention for being my wife and we both want to protect our son best we can from the horrors of a public life.

Over the span of my career, I’ve managed to keep my private life mostly private, and I’ve never been one to publicly air my dirty laundry. But as rumors fly about rehab and addiction, I feel the need to set the record straight. As I said, I’m not checking into rehab. I don’t have an addiction problem. I smoked pot once in college and didn’t like it. I’ve never abused prescription or recreational drugs. I’ve never really been much of a drinker. I know this all started with an episode of heavy drinking and a killer hangover, but it was one significant event in my life that drove me to get shitfaced like I did.

Finding balance between work and home is a challenge for anybody, regardless of circumstances. My situation is not unique. As a musician who travels constantly, it’s easy to just let the road take me where it leads. I have to put in the effort to make time to spend at home with my family, and make sure they have everything they need. Some people find that balance easily. Others, like me, struggle to figure it out. To say I’ve done a lousy job of it would be the understatement of the millennium.

Travelling the country (and sometimes the world) has its perks. Playing shows and getting to visit places I might not otherwise see is a dream job few get to experience. I am grateful every day for this privilege I’ve been afforded in my life. I’ve worked hard to get to where I am, but I haven’t done it alone, and I do my best to give credit where credit is due.

My two biggest supporters (and toughest critics) have always been my wife and son. I owe more to them than anyone else. They are the center of my entire world. I would not be who I am without them. My wife is a brilliant, strong, beautiful woman. She works tirelessly to hold down the fort while I’m on the road, raising our son, and running her own successful business. She loves fiercely, cares deeply, and she does not put up with bullshit from anybody (not even me). My son is nearly a mirror image in personality of his mother—smart, strong, passionate, caring, every adjective a parent could hope for—though he’s also strong willed and stubborn and he likes to argue, which he gets straight from me. I couldn’t be more proud of the person he is growing up to be.

My wife and son are absolutely amazing human beings and I have taken them shamefully for granted. That is the painful, unfortunate truth of this situation. I have neglected my relationship with them for far too long. I have taken their love and support for granted, deluding myself that they will always be there, no matter how much distance I put between us (geographically and emotionally). Over the last few years I have put an ocean of distance between us and created a rift that is not going to be easy to repair.

That is why I’m here now. I have to repair this. It would be easy to throw in the towel and say we’re all better off if it ends, but I know that I would most definitely not be better off. I have to believe that they won’t be either. I’m taking an indefinite hiatus from music to focus on my family, to repair the damage, and heal the pain I’ve caused. It’s not going to be an easy fix. It’s going to take time to rebuild. It’s going to require my entire focus.

I know I’m exposing myself to ridicule and slander by sharing this piece of my private life so publicly. But there are people who are going to concoct their own stories regardless—they’ve been doing it since the beginning—so I might as well put the truth out there for those who are willing to pay attention. There is no sordid affair, no substance abuse, no gambling debt, no domestic violence. There is nothing exciting or scandalous about any of it.

It’s one man’s selfish stupidity finally biting him in the ass.

And because I know the commentary is coming, if this is published on a public forum, my wife and son have read and approved every word written here.

Hiatus is like a four-letter word in this business. It’s often the nail in the coffin for so many careers. I don’t know what it means for my future in music. I don’t plan to be gone forever, but if it comes to that, so be it. Music is vital to my life, but if having a long-lasting career means losing my family because of it—I would chose my family in a heartbeat every single time.

I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. I can’t even guarantee I’ll be back. But until the time comes that I know for sure…

Thank you for listening.

Thank you for your support.

Thank you for everything.

I will [hopefully] see you on the other side.