Wednesday, March 29, 2006

More about brains...

Crazy Train (of thought)

I think Princess and I have one thing in common – neither wants the other around. I believe this because yesterday after returning home from a hard workout at the gym, I decided to soak in the tub. I had almost fallen asleep when I heard something bumping across the tile bathroom floor. I looked over and saw Princess dragging a hair dryer toward me.

Bonehead devised a plan to defame and slander me, and then sent me an email detailing the plan. That’s just what I meant when I called him “Dumber than a turkey.”

Some might think I go on too much about my wife. Let’s think about this. I praise her, complement her, thank her and honor her in a world wide public forum. I give her credit for all she does for me and the family and I make clear my admiration and lust for and devotion to her. She loves me in return in abundance, by every measure. Shall I rein in my enthusiasm for my wife in order to placate my readers? Hell no.

A brief neuropsychology lesson: The origin of emotion lies in the limbic system, which in a properly functioning brain, is modulated by the frontal lobes, a process known as a higher cortical function. Those with rage control issues might be said to operate without higher cortical functions, or technically speaking, at a more primitive level. It explains a lot when you think about it.

Sure sign you are dealing with a nut: you’ve encountered someone who doesn’t let the facts get in their way.

Marital Bliss

I knew that Jill has wanted to be a teacher for years, but for different reasons in a different life, she was unable to pursue that goal. When we wed in 2004 I told her to make her dreams real, and she has since secured a position in the local public school system and will finish her second-career education this Spring. I can see the joy in her face when she tells me about her students and when she works evenings and weekends preparing for class. This past weekend we attended a soccer game at the invitation of one of her students. The smile on that child’s face when she realized Mrs. Lang had come to watch her play was priceless. When her team won, I’m not sure who was happier, the student or the teacher. I am thankful for many things, not the least of which is being in a position to encourage my wife to follow her heart. Her happy heart makes mine happy, too.

Kid-bytes

Speaking of happy hearts, Linley asked for batteries for her CD player. I asked a few questions and learned the one she had was years old and missing the power cord. I remembered how much music meant to me as a child, how I wore out a few cassette players and replaced albums over and over again when the vinyl sounded more like snap-crackle-pop than the Allman Brothers at Fillmore East. On the way home from school I made a surprise stop at Target and while she was perusing the new music releases, I sneaked over and bought her a CD player. Thirty-minutes later the house was shaking to the weird lyrics of Fall Out Boy. My ears ringing, I couldn’t help but “go back” as I watched her dancing in the kitchen. ‘Wake up momma, turn your lamp down low. You got no nerve baby, to turn uncle john from your door. I woke up this morning, I had them Statesboro blues.’

Today’s Rant

I’m in a great mood, not a mean spirited one, so I won’t stoop to vulgar name calling or other elementary school antics to make myself sound brave, bold or something else that I need to feel in order to make up for my shortcomings. I’ll just point out to the curious that the deleted comments are from a nut and don’t merit publication. There shall be no further mention of this individual as this blog for I have much better things to write about.

Book Report

I got a copy of the new press kit my publicist has made to announce my sales have surpassed the two million copies benchmark. It included copies of letters I have received from readers, including single dads, dads in jail or rehab, dads/soldiers in Iraq, children of all ages, mothers, grandparents, newlyweds, adopted children, people of all sorts. Each has a unique story, a special request, a memorable moment they chose to share with me, but all have one thing in common. Whether they tell me of the longing or joy in their hearts, everyone, in the end, says the same thing – I want to be loved by those I love. I am saddened that some readers have not had the kind of relationship in their lives that I have described in one or the other of my books, but encouraged and honored that these readers use my books as guide stones for learning how to give to someone what they themselves did not have. I may never get to the number one spot on the New York Times list or invited to sit next to Oprah, but that’s okay. These hand-written letters mean so much more.

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