The New England weather this past week has been remarkable. Sunny, high 70s to low 80s, perfect. I have taken the opportunity to get into some serious outdoor projects around my house. Let’s wander a bit.

I accidentally grew 12-foot-tall plants. Those kinds of plants.

Oops

I am a private guy in my personal life, and that extends to my hobbies and vices. One of my vices just so happens to be pretty pricey when you start buying ounces, motivating me to learn a thing or two about growing my own. I do this behind a 6-foot-tall fence that you can’t see through. In previous seasons, I have had plants peek over the fence-line by like a foot or two, but these fuckers are legitimately as tall as my house. Bushy, too! I have never felt as proud as I do in this moment. I am also going to save so much money and I am psyched about that.

As excited as I am, it is a little embarrassing to have a forest towering above both fence and home. I don’t want to be that guy, but here we are. If any of my neighbors see this, nothing is for sale but come by for freebies and a smoke break.

Enough about terrible habits leading to new skills.

I have been really grinding away at the first of my two essays for applying to Master’s programs. Breaking myself down can be so exhausting, which is why I took a little time away from writing to play video games. I guess I am feeling it today. Expect a new Trailer Park Files. I have two pieces I am writing concurrently, but I am unsure which one I’ll drop first.

I have another original production that I will be unveiling soon. I am excited because my wife is providing the artwork. The combined force of the Cassidy household cannot be contained by anything of this Earth. So stay tuned for that.

Unfortunately for both of us, she has been exceptionally busy throughout the Summer, and we have been apart more than together. When she is gone, getting deep into my writing for school happens. Sometimes that is a positive. Other times, I go too deep into the introspection and come out of my writing with a profound sadness. That’s also when I write my best shit for some reason.

There isn’t anything wrong with being apart. We have no kids and are both independent. That doesn’t mean you can’t miss somebody. Shit, I love being alone.

When I was a tiny, chicken-hugging young man, I would just quietly hang out in my room, playing with my toys quietly. My parents enjoyed it and so did I. I would read, write, play video games, play with action figures, all that. I just did so in a way that you couldn’t hear me from the other side of the door.

I was a gentle soul then. I would go to people’s houses with my mom or whatever and have access to toys that my cousin had previously not been allowed to play with. He was the classic hellion, and that isn’t his fault.

Alone and in a quiet, poorly lit room is where I thrive. After my parents passed away, life was a whirlwind of memories. They weren’t all negative, though. I was left alone in my parents’ house for weeks at a time with no guardian, and being able to reflect alone was invaluable to me. When my brother, who was taking care of me, got jammed up by the cops in New Jersey, I was left to my own devices, away from his dumb ass. I still remember it as one of the best times of my life, and my folks had just passed then.

I am so much more in tune with myself now than I ever was then, so I am still always hanging out and in my mind. I have a lot to go through. I still need external peace to get deep in there.

So here I am. Alone in front of a monitor in the darkness, going back to places that I would rather not because I have to in order to do my best work. Sometimes, this can be therapeutic and cleansing. Shit, I cry when I write. Regularly. Other times, I leave my head space with more questions than I had before. It can be overwhelming, and it is exacerbated by a numb, seemingly emotionless but internally sorrowful feeling that washes over and envelops me.

And that is why I will be working on the Files. I need to cleanse my brain. What better way than to talk about riding lawnmowers and trailer park board meetings.

Happy birthday, Mom.

Until next time,

JTC