Again?

Again. Again is such an interesting word. Pair it with any corresponding punctuation mark and you enter into vastly different territories: Again! Again? Again. Again; (does anyone really know how to use a semicolon? See my attempts below...) you get the general idea. When I think of the word again I can't prevent the little radio in between my ears from blasting B-Spears' classic "Oops! I did it again." (notice her lyricist- yes, I'm assuming, rather confidently, that she does not write her own music- used a period after again; very declaratory of your Brit Brit). She sings it so enthusiastically that I almost immediately assume trying to do something 'again' is something to sing about while wearing a skin-tight red leotard. Well, I'm not really sure that I'm feeling that way with the start of another blog. I don't typically wear red.

I believe there are two kinds of writers: ones who have to write to get their words off their chest, using their literature as a confidant, hidden from the rest of the world; and the ones who write so others will read, hoping their meager thoughts transcend beyond the glow of the screen. I'm the latter of the two. I worried with other blogs that I would write and write and write and no one would read. I approached each "post" with a mixture of trepidation, anxiety, and excitement hoping I would write the post that would magically yield a bevy of comments. I never wrote that post. I imagine I never will. But I guess this blog is completely worth it if one day, years from now, my daughter will read it (and other future kids- although no mom, this isn't any announcement). 

She's only two months. She's learning that her hands are hers and how to make spit bubbles. She's in a world where almost everything is entirely new. She's got one heck of a mom, who intuitively knows how much lotion to use post-bath, if a diaper is on too tight, the difference between a grunt of conversation and one of devastation (diaper devastation that is), and whether or not a feeding is in order. And she's got a dad who's trying his best. 

I'm calling this blog "Nightlife to Nightlights" as I am journeying into the role of fatherhood. Things in my world are so vastly different than they were 11 months ago. This blog will certainly highlight many of them, although not exclusively. I'm certainly no authority on this transition, and thus won't devote this entire forum for wisdom- instead it will mostly likely be wisecracks.

While with a group of friends tonight, I was explaining how becoming a father doesn't seem to have taken my life in a different direction; but rather, that I became on an entirely different track than I was before; a track that greatly prevents me from remembering what it was like not to be a father. Life, in every way, is better with our little Gooby. It was the right time to have her. We regret none of it. I hope Gooby won't either. So one day Gooby, you'll hopefully read this and laugh as your old man figures out how be come an "old man". 

FYI, Blogger does not limit how many blogs one can start and abandon. So here it goes; again.