A few months back I started keeping track of where my podcast listeners are geographically located.
Hold up privacy nuts: this is only for my nefarious and amusement purposes. I’m not selling anybody’s locale data.
So anyways, doing what you do when you’re me, I mapped them out last night and am now sharing said map with you. I do enjoy seeing how wide spread my listeners are. I was also interested to learn that there are a few Facebook employees listening in various states across the U.S.
Now then… if this is the first you’ve heard of my podcast don’t worry, you’re not too late. Open up your nearest podcast app and plug “tcr diaries podcast” into the search bar. If your app doesn’t have a search bar then it sucks. Get a different one.
If you have Amazon’s Alexa at home it’s even easier! Say to her, “Alexa play the tcr diaries podcast” and boom, you’re done.
I was sitting at a stoplight and a minivan pulled up in the lane next to me.
The wife appeared to be driving and, who I assume to be the husband, was slumped over in the passenger seat. Quite possibly hungover. Renounced pathetic in his silence and downward, saddened gaze.
The engrossing part of this travel tale was that she was scolding him with both hands and all that. Arms flailing. Eyes furious. Teeth gnashing. Murderously chewing his ass upside and down there behind their minivan windows.
This would be a day I would not ever forget if I were him. The guy looked defeated as he sat there frumpily slumped. Acceptive of whatever verbal beating his wife was handing down.
I don’t know if he fucked the dog last night or what, but guys, this dude was in trouble. 😯
One time when I was drinking I put a lawn chair in the middle of the yard that runs along the side of my house. My thought was that it’d be the perfect spot to keep tabs on the neighbors from a slightly covert location.
A couple days later when I was sober I remembered the lawn chair and returned it to the back deck. I felt somewhat embarrassed afterward as it was a somewhat embarrassing place to have lawn furniture. Sitting shamefully in the grass along the side of the house.
If you ever see a guy sitting in a lawnchair in his side yard, it would be safe to assume he’s drunk.
When I’m around you guys it’s easy to be my best self.
I would almost say that it comes naturally. I don’t even think about it.
But there are other times when I’m around other people when there’s nothing easy about being a good person. It takes 100% of my concentration. It takes dedicated and duplicated prayers. It takes front-burner, fore-thought action.
It takes getting to know and being comfortable with my anger beforehand so it’s not overwhelming when I’m around the jerks who live only in their own worlds, who live from only their own point of view.
It takes regular and routine reseting so I don’t get lost in the chaos. It takes pretending to care even when I honestly don’t.
Because at the end of the day people are going to hurt us. They’re going to give us reasons to be angry. The trick is to love them anyway. At all costs.
I’m sitting in the McDonalds on State Street in Geneva. Because Egg McMuffins.
This is also the place where Maggie’s mom and I told Maggie that we were getting divorced. It was the most painful conversation I’ve ever had. The most painful day ever. Watching her little nine year old face panic as the conversation unfolded.
It wasn’t a long conversation but it lasted forever to me.
A therapist said to do it in public so the hurt would live outside the home. Sometimes breakups really better are in public. Sometimes it’s the better way out.
And as we were driving back home, the three of us, I thought to myself, “I’m never going to that fucking place again.”
But here I am. Cuppa years later.
Because one of the best things I learned was to “give it some time.”
For as long as it takes. Don’t make up your mind. Just put it down. Don’t rush healing. Don’t rush the feeling. Let the pain fade. It will if we don’t force its end.