Honest Muses: A Series, Part I., by W. Alexander

W. Alexander

Hello readers, followers, and friends. Today, I share some musings. Call it, “Thoughts and High or What another thinks” or something. I love reading how others think or what they think about. This is the stuff I recorded when I decided to track my thoughts this morning. I did this just as a mental exercise, but the results are random and hilarious—others I can see how hard I am on myself. It’s a good exercise. I recommend you do it too. Just maybe, don’t be like me and post your thoughts to the world, lol.

Enjoy

I am a parent, and I am exhausted. I have two kids in diapers, and now, my youngest is crawling. Everyday I wake up and fall asleep the same way: burnt-out. Honestly, I have felt underwater for a while now, my thoughts are scattered, my energy-levels are non-existent. I call it, “bones tired.” It hurts that I stop-start every time I choose to climb my-way-out-of these funks. So, I think as a parent, I know a thing-or-two about tired; especially, the kind of tired which only derives from trading in one’s Macbook for a dust-pan. The dirty, day-to-day, stuck between the same four walls tired.

I am grateful, because I am a stay-at-home parent, full-time student, and working writer. I am living my dream life—once I allow myself to enjoy it. I would not trade this season of my life for anything conceivable. I am grateful, because I am a parent. God has given me a beautiful life. I do not deserve it, but I will honor the stewardship. It is a lot sometimes, but that is what makes it beautiful

Seriously, there really is something about taking the time to appreciate the things you have in your life that you once prayed for. Gratitude is the secret to happiness.

I am depressed because I am an artist. I teeter on madness when I think about writing more than actually writing. I am in the madness swimming.

The world’s great sadness is that basic human rights are still a debate.

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I love marriage. Seriously, I am made for all-things-love. I adore my wife. She is hot, and she keeps getting sexier. We are each other’s best friends, and the sex is always divine. Our greatest couple’s flex is: we have had sex several times a week since we met each other. No breaks, except post-birth. People don’t believe us, but it is true. We are very lucky and very grateful to have each other.

Obviously, Rome is my favorite. I love ancient Roman history, but I go back-and-forth which era is my favorite. I guess I favor the empire side more. The Roman civilization’s historical arc, and our modern American civilization, it has been noted, has many similarities in how they demised and how my country—U.S.A.— is losing its influence around the world today.

Weed shops sprouted-up all over Maine this year. I wonder why New Hampshire hasn’t made it legal yet. Actually, why is weed even a big deal? Damnit, now I’m curious about the science of weed.

I wonder what a detective would think searching a writer’s laptop? Like, “I see he searched Amazon for new shoes, Lowe’s.com for a chainsaw, and then he Googles, ‘what does flesh sound like when getting sliced open,’ and ‘why is weed good in some states and bad in the other.'” I could be writing a medieval battle or hunting scene, but paired with the other things I do on my computer—which is mostly not writing, sadly—it paints a different story. I still need the shoes, and the answer to my impulsive curiosity regarding the legal status of weed in New Hampshire.

Sometimes, I am afraid I messed up. I use to be so clear headed; I was level-on-level. I am scared I am repressing something. It’s a weird feeling.

This is not open for debate: Jesus must be a Willie Nelson fan.

I talk to Jesus a lot about apologetics and history. There is many different walks one can take with God, but I really should pray more for those other than myself a lot more. That is faithful living—to stop thinking so much of ourselves.

I am hard on myself, because I wrestle for normalcy.

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A nod to him whom attended Lady Derry’s autumn tempests, gyrating orange and red and yellow leaves, dancing alongside stone-walled pastures, caroling in voices divine.

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