Tag Archives: writing

April 3, 2026 · 7:53 am

Recounting And Celebrating My Greatest Little League Triumph

Growing up, I loved sports.

As an adult, I still love sports.

But when I was growing up, I didn’t just enjoy watching sports with my dad on a Sunday afternoon. I actually played sports. I’ll never claim to have been very good. There’s a reason why I never played sports at a high school or college level. I learned early on that I have many gifts. But athletic talent is not among them.

Even so, I had my share of highlights and lowlights while playing sports as a kid. For the most part, I played baseball. That made a lot of sense. My dad was a huge baseball fan. He’d watch baseball with me on many summer afternoons while I was an infant. And some of my earliest memories involve playing catch in our backyard.

While I wasn’t overly strong or athletic, I was good in some areas. I could catch better than most kids my age. I could also throw the ball a lot more accurately than most kids with stronger arms. That ensured that, even if I didn’t make the all-star team, I would never be the worst player on any team I played on.

I managed to maintain that level from my earliest days playing T-ball to when I played single-A for one season. In that time, I made my share of plays. I also had my share of bad games, including one where I didn’t get a single hit and never got on base once.

However, among those bad games and mediocre games that I’ve long since forgotten, there is one memory from my little league baseball career that still stands out. It is, by far, my proudest moment from my limited tenure playing sports.

Since I know my dad and relatives occasionally read this site, there’s a good chance they already know which moment I’m about to recount. I still don’t think they fully appreciate just how powerful this memory is for me. Because for a single moment, I was the most clutch player on the field. And in the span of a single play, I single-handedly won a game for my team.

To set the stage, this occurred while I was playing my little league team, the Pirates. That was the team I’d been on for years. My dad was good friends with the coach. And he frequently assisted with managing games. That mattered because I think my coach and my dad helped our team be better than our collective talent. We were probably the second or third best team among our peers that year. It was probably the best team I’d ever been on.

But the team we were playing was every bit as good as us, if not better. They were the Marlins. And for the most part, they were our equals in terms of talent and competence. They hit just as well as us. They fielded just as well as us. But they also had on their team this kid who was about six inches taller than any other kid. I don’t know if that kid was just naturally tall or a couple years older. But he definitely made his presence felt throughout that game.

The game was still close from start to finish. My team got up early by a couple runs. But the Marlins caught up and even took the lead at one point in the fourth inning. Since we only played six inning games at this level, we had limited chances left.

But we made the most of those chances. At the top of the sixth and final inning, two of our best hitters drew in a couple runs. That put us ahead by a score of 4 to 3. I didn’t get a hit during that rotation. But I was also playing first base on defense for that inning. It wasn’t my usual position. But since I could catch better than most, it was probably the best position I could’ve been in at that moment.

It ended up being key in terms of how the bottom of the sixth played out in that game.

It started off promising with a ground out. But then, the best hitters on the team came up and they delivered. The first shot right by the short stop for a double. The second happened to be that tall kid I mentioned earlier. He hit a bouncing ball towards second that ended up being a single. My teammate could not gather it in time to make a play.

So, that left runners on first and third. And with only two outs remaining, the Marlins could’ve easily tied the game with a simple fly ball. They could even win it with a line drive. In nearly any other circumstances in a little league game at this level, the game was either going to be tied or won by whichever team was batting.

But on this particular day, that’s not how it played out.

The kid at bat got behind the count. I’m already bracing for a tie or loss at this point. I’m just trying not to let it show. The big kid on base was grinning. I think he expected to be the winning run. He didn’t say anything, but I could sense what he was thinking.

Then, it happened. On an inside fastball, the kid got a hit and the ball flew right at me. Instinctively, the big kid at first started running, as did the kid at third. But I managed to get right under the ball at just the right moment to catch it. And as soon as I did, the runners tried to run back. But it was too late. My foot was already on first. And I made sure to tag the big kid running right back towards me.

The look of shock on his face is something I’ll never forget.

From my perspective, it happened so quickly that I barely had time to think about it. I liken it to one of those moments in sports where your brain goes into a different mode and you just act. Call it The Zone. Call it clutch mentality. Call it whatever you want. But in that moment, I had it. And in that single play, I gave my team the final two outs that sealed our win.

That didn’t initially register at first, even as my dad, coach, and teammate started cheering. Even when I realized what had happened, I still didn’t believe it. I’d actually won the game for my team on what a fluky, yet clutch play. It was, by far, the greatest play I’d ever made for any sport at any level. It didn’t matter that it was just a little league game with limited stakes with a bunch of kids my age.

I still won the game for my team.

I still made the play that needed to be made when it mattered most.

I never made a play that big again. And I didn’t continue playing little league for much longer after that year. But even if I was never going to play baseball in the big leagues, for one single day in my life, I could say without reservation that I single-handedly won a game for my team. For one day, I felt like a true champion.

It’s a special feeling that’s truly unique to sports, regardless of age or level. And even if that was the peak of my little league career, I’ll always treasure that feeling.

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March 27, 2026 · 6:45 am

It’s Officially Allergy Season (And I HATE It)

Around this time of year, I can safely say I’m sick of winter. The holidays have been over for months. I’m tired of dressing in layers, just to get the mail. I am very ready for warmer weather, longer days, and the ability to walk around my living room naked if I felt so inclined.

You’d think that means I welcome the start of spring. To some extent, I do. However, the arrival of spring comes with a major catch and it’s a pretty damn big one. Because it involves allergies.

For my entire life, I’ve suffered from bad allergies. Not all of it is seasonal. I’m allergic to some fairly standard stuff like dust and certain kinds of pet dander. When I was a kid, it got pretty bad. I had to take prescription medications for years. That helped, but only to a point. On particularly bad days, I would still feel it. Unfortunately, most of those days tend to occur in the spring.

Even as my allergies have gotten better with time, they’re still a nuisance. Most of the time, they’re manageable. I no longer have to rely on prescriptions to deal with the symptoms. Whenever they flair up, I can endure with medicine you’d find in the pharmacy section of any grocery store. They don’t need to be too potent. They just have to ease sinus headaches and de-clog my nose so I can sleep.

But with spring, it’s not always enough. When the trees start blooming, along with the grass, the air becomes thick with pollen. In the area where I live, it’s not uncommon to see layers of the stuff on cars in the morning. For most people, it’s just something you can wash off with a hose or wait until it rains. For me, it’s often a sign that I’m going to have a rough day.

My eyes will itch.

My head will heart.

My nose will get stuffy and congested.

If it gets really bad, I’ll feel a bad itch on the roof of my mouth. That means I need to take something or every other symptom will intensify. That means taking meds that make me drowsy or nasal sprays that have a nasty rebound effect. I don’t like having to do it. I try to tough it out as best I can, mostly to just get it over with. But that’s not always possible. Sometimes, I need something to help me function. Again, most of those times happen during spring.

This morning, I saw a light layer of pollen on my car. At this very moment, as I type this, my head is starting to hurt. And I’ve had enough sinus-induced headaches to know the signs. It means for the next few weeks, I need to keep allergy medications within reach. It also means quality sleep will be at a premium. I am not looking forward to any of that. But it’s not something I can avoid.

I know I’m not the only one who suffers from allergies. There are probably people who have it way worse than me. To those people, I feel for you. We’re both in for a rough time as spring sets in. We’ll get through it, as we always do. It’s just going to be unpleasant and uncomfortable at times.

But once we get through it and summer approaches, it’ll be so worth it.

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January 10, 2026 · 7:29 am

Why Frustration With Subscription Services Will Enable (And Necessitate) Piracy

A while back, I looked into purchasing some new software that would help me make better videos for my YouTube channel, Jack’s World. I know that’s a common issue among aspiring content creators, finding the right software to help them make what they want to make at a certain quality. But over the course of this search, I came to two frustrating realizations.

First, there are an astonishing number of incredible and useful tools to make all kinds of content, be it videos, music, or images.

Second, every one of these tools require a regular subscription to use and the cost ads up a lot, especially if you want to utilize certain features.

Now, I’m very much aware of just how prevalent the subscription model has become for so many services. I concede that I have multiple subscriptions for streaming services, as well as a few web services that I prefer not to name. But I was not aware of just how much everything, from software tools to even features on certain cars, require a goddamn subscription.

I know I’m not the first person to complain about this. You don’t need to look hard to find consumers at all levels voicing their anger about how many subscription services are necessary these days, from broadband internet to streaming media that’s now more expensive than cable ever was. But none of that anger seems to be impacting anything.

Companies of all kinds are still looking for ways to turn a one-time purchase into a never-ending subscription. You can ascribe that to pure greed, annoying trends, or a dystopian manifestation of late-stage capitalism. It really doesn’t matter what’s driving it. It still sucks.

I quickly realized that I literally cannot upgrade my current video editing software without spending hundreds of dollars annually just to access that software. I can’t even walk into an electronics store, buy disk or access code, and download the software as a one-time purchase. I can only ever buy a limited subscription or a “free trial” version that is basically the most useless version of the software.

For someone like me, who doesn’t have the budget to pay hundreds of dollars every year for professional grade software, that’s not just frustrating. It’s infuriating. It’s effectively bars me from ever making content that’s polished beyond a certain point.

That’s not to say I’m completely devoid of options. There are open-source alternatives to certain software programs. I’ve even tried a few of them. But I’ve yet to find one that matches the functionality of the consumer-based versions I’ve used for years. Hopefully, that changes at some point. If I find an open-source software for editing videos that works just as well as what I’m using, I’ll jump at the chance to switch to it. But for now, I’m stuck with what I have.

In addition, I came across something else in my effort that’s worth sharing. In searching for a free or cheap alternative to video editing software, I also came across quite a few sites that basically pirate that software. Now, for reasons I hope are obvious, I’m not going to share the names of those sites or where I found them. But I imagine I’m not the only one who came across them while looking for better software.

And unless you’re really tech savvy and have some damn good anti-spyware software on your computer, I do not recommend using those sites to get pirated software. This is not like the days of Napster and Limewire. The kind of malware you’re likely to get from these sites is dangerous and not just in terms of flooding your computer with spam.

But those same sites, some of which had domains located outside the United States and Europe, probably provide a much easier method towards obtaining software or media of any kind. There’s no need for credit cards or creating accounts. And if you ever do need to pay for something, it’s often done in cryptocurrencies. But even with the risk that comes from that, the price is far lower than what most software companies are charging.

I found one particular well-known software that was 1/5th the price from the retail version. And they accepted crypto as payment.

Even if you’re not good at math or finance, you can still understand the concept of price gouging. And when it comes to software and media, it feels exceedingly egregious. It’s not like making these products requires rare Earth metals or some kind of expensive manufacturing process. They’re lines of computer code stored on computers, easily copied for pennies and distributed for pennies more. So, having to pay more than $100 a year just to access them feels like a bad deal.

And if that gap continues to grow, then you can assume piracy won’t just become more tempting to the average consumer. It’ll become preferable. If people feel like they’re getting gouged, then they’re not going to feel bad from stealing from a company, especially if they don’t even sell you something physical. I don’t doubt companies will fight this, as they’ve always fought piracy. But take it from someone who remembers the days of Napster. That’s a losing battle in the long run.

But that battle is still playing out. And in the meantime, I still find myself stuck with software that’s becoming increasingly outdated. I’ll still make the most of what I have. But I’m already at a point where I will go to any length to avoid another subscription to my monthly bill. And if the situation continues getting worse, then that’ll just be another middle finger to customers and a never-ending gift to piracy.

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September 11, 2025 · 6:58 am

September 11th Vs. The Oklahoma City Bombing (And Why One Overshadows The Other)

I remember exactly where I was on September 11th, 2001.

I also remember where I was when I first heard about the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.

Talk to anyone who was alive on that day and chances are they’ll have a story. They can recount where they were, how they found out, and the plethora of emotions they experienced. There’s no question that this was a historic event that traumatized a generation. Even those born after the events of 9/11 have felt that trauma. And people around my age often agree.

After this day, America was never the same. The world was never the same. Many argue that things have gotten progressively worse since that day. And honestly, I’m inclined to agree.

However, the events of September 11th, 2001, were not America’s first experience with terrorist attacks. There have been others, but none were as destructive or as deadly. That doesn’t negate the tragedy and the loss of human life. But they do tend to get lost in terms of a larger historical context.

But there’s one particular terror attack that has been more overshadowed than most. It was deadly. It was traumatizing. And it scarred countless people for years to come.

On April 19th, 1995, a truck bomb was detonated in downtown Oklahoma City just outside the Alfred P. Murrah building. It ended up killing 168 people and injured nearly 700 more. And some of those deaths were young children who had been at the daycare center operating within the building.

It was, by every measure, a horrific attack. Before 9/11, it was the deadliest terrorist attack on American soil. While I don’t remember exactly where I was on that day, I still remember it being a big deal. Even though I don’t live anywhere near Oklahoma City, my school and my community held vigils. We even had this elaborate tree on which we placed cards commemorating the victims.

For weeks and months after this event, there was a great deal of fear and panic. If one truck bomb could do this kind of damage, what’s to stop other similar attacks? And if it came from some well-funded terror cell operating internationally, how could we possibly feel safe?

But then, the story surrounding Oklahoma City shifted when federal authorities identified the primary suspect. It was not some terrorist group who had trained overseas. It was not an operation conducted by a rogue nation or some anti-American government. It was perpetrated by a white American man named Timothy McVeigh.

He was not Osama Bin Ladin or Saddam Hussain. He was an all-American man born in upstate New York. He’d also served in the military and fought in the first Gulf War. He did not fit the image of a stone-cold terrorist. He did not match the narrative that most Americans surmised from such a devastating attack. The idea that a white male American veteran would commit a terrorist attack against his own country wasn’t just unthinkable. It made no sense.

Now, McVeigh did have his own twisted reasons for carrying out this attack. He was an extreme reactionary, having fallen in with militant right-wing organizations that had been operating in America for decades. They’re anti-government, anti-liberal, pro-gun, and often racist. I won’t delve too much into the details surrounding McVeigh’s ideology. But it’s disturbing in terms of how mainstream it still is in modern right-wing groups.

And I think it’s because of those parallels that the Oklahoma City bombing got completely overshadowed after 9/11. Because that terror attack, in addition to having a higher death toll, better fit the narrative that most Americans assume. The perpetrators weren’t homegrown. They were all foreign born, having embraced a radical religious ideology that is not at all mainstream in the United States.

It’s much easier to frame terrorists like that in a typical good versus evil dynamic. And it was much easier for the recourse that followed to play out. Unlike Oklahoma City, the 9/11 attacks prompted a quick response against the Taliban, who had harbored Al-Quida. It allowed the news media to play endless stories about America striking back against the evil foreign terrorists who dared to strike our country and kill our citizens.

That certainly made for a better narrative. But a better narrative also left little room for nuance. There’s no question that what happened on 9/11 was an atrocity. And that atrocity warranted a response. But whereas American committed themselves to never forgetting the events of that fateful day, they seem all too willing to forget about the Oklahoma City bombing.

One is simple in that it was an outside force who attacked us.

The other is complicated because it came from a fellow American who’d been radicalized by a dangerous, homegrown ideology.

One requires a forceful response on a foreign land. The other requires introspection and a deeper understanding of what’s happening within certain parts of American culture. Naturally, the recourse that requires less thinking is going to win out. That doesn’t make it right or wrong. But it does obscure our collective perceptions.

I don’t doubt that there’s a real threat posed by Islamic terrorists. Subsequent attacks all over the world after 9/11 have demonstrated that. However, in terms of likelihood and proximity, most Americans are far more likely to be attacked by an extremist in the mold of Timothy McVeigh.

I don’t even need to travel very far to encounter people who share his extremism. If I were to drive about an hour from my house into some of the more rural parts of my region, I’ll come across communities that are deeply conservative and extremely reactionary. Get any one of them talking about the government, gun control, or anyone whose political leanings are slightly to the left of Ronald Ragean, and they’ll seethe with a hatred that is neither rational nor justified.

I’ve had to deal with these people when they are agitated. They are dangerous in their own right. And I’m a lot more wary of them than I am of any foreign-born terror threat. But if I were to articulate this to them or even others who share my leanings, and chances are I’ll get some strange looks. I might even be attacked for thinking my fellow Americans are a greater threat than foreign terrorists.

But I still consider myself a proud American. I want my country to succeed. And I want us to confront any and all threats, be they foreign or domestic. The Oklahoma City bombing on April 19th, 1995, proved that the domestic threat is very real, just as September 11th, 2001, proved that the foreign threat is very real.

Yet we always fear one more than the other. And we’ve committed to never forgetting one while eagerly ignoring the other. But we shouldn’t. If we, as Americans, are to truly become the great country we strive to be, we must remember and learn from both traumatic events, especially if the lessons from one are a lot harder to swallow than others.

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August 14, 2025 · 8:33 am

Another Letter To My Future Wife (If She Exists)

Dear Future Wife:

I know it’s been a while. For that, I apologize. Life, work, and the world in general has been chaotic lately. I’m sure that hasn’t been lost on you. I won’t use that as an excuse. I just hope you understand because I’ve been meaning to write this for a while now, but I’m working under a better-late-than-never mentality.

First and most importantly, I hope everything is going well with you. I hope your family is still happy and healthy. I also hope you’re taking care of yourself. I’m trying to do my part. I still go to the gym every day. I’ve tried to tweak my diet and sleep here and there. I won’t say I’m the picture of health, but I continue to make the effort. Everything worth doing starts with effort.

Whether that effort pays off is beyond our control. Perhaps that’s why our paths haven’t crossed yet. You have your own life and you’re doing your best to manage it in this crazy world. That seems to be getting harder with each passing day. But that has never stopped you. I trust you’ll find a way, as you always do.

Along the way, I hope you’ve found time to enjoy yourself. After the COVID-19 pandemic, that’s important. Quarantine and isolation have left some lasting scars. Just getting out regularly still doesn’t feel like it once did. Maybe that has more to do with us getting older than the pandemic. Either way, it doesn’t matter.

What did you think of the latest Superman movie?

What did you think of the Fantastic Four?

What did you think of King of Hill, X-Men 97, or the latest season of Reacher?

Who do you think is going to win the Super Bowl this year?

One day, I look forward to discussing, arguing, and gushing over every detail. Finding time for that sort of thing isn’t easy. But for you, I’ll make time. That’s what you do for someone you love.

I still hold out hope that such a day will come. With each passing year, that hope dwindles somewhat. It hasn’t completely disappeared. I’m determined to never let that happen, even if I’m on my death bed. But I freely admit there have been times when I wish I’d met you.

In recent years, loved ones I deeply cherished have passed away. I’ve also become an uncle to multiple nieces and nephews. I know it’s not the same as being a parent, but I’ve really come to cherish my role as an awesome uncle. I think you would love it just as much, being an aunt to these kids. They’re so damn energetic, but so much fun to be around.

On top of these big moments, I’ve also found myself missing the little moments. I still live alone. I still sleep alone. On certain nights, I wish I could roll over and see you laying by my side. On certain mornings, I wish I could wake up and meet you in the kitchen for some morning coffee. From there, we could just enjoy each other’s company or make mundane conversation.

But more than anything else, I wish you were here so we could better support each other. Every time a news headline pops up, I feel myself getting upset. I feel my limited faith in humanity faltering just a little bit more. I’m at a point where I don’t see the human species as being able to survive in the long run. I question whether we even deserve to survive.

I don’t want to fall too deep into that kind of despair. It’s just a lot easier when you’re alone and you don’t have someone to love to remind you of what’s good in the world. I suspect you’re handling it better than me. I don’t doubt for a second that my future wife has that kind of strength. One day, I hope it inspires me to be stronger.

But therein lies my greatest fear. I genuinely worry that you and I will never meet. Even if you’re out there, not yet aware of me or the love we’re destined to share, our paths may not cross at any point. We’re so overwhelmed and locked into our current lives. We just don’t have the time or energy to actively seek the love we desire.

I don’t want that to be the case. I hope that’s not the case. Maybe we’ll meet the day after I share this letter. Even if it happens years from then, I’ll be fine with that. Good things are worth waiting for, especially love.

But if that day never comes and I eventually die alone, having never met you, I feel that will be a major loss for both of us. That may end up being beyond our control. I still don’t want that. I still want us to meet. I want our families to meet. I just know my parents, siblings, nieces, and nephews would be thrilled.

I don’t know when, where, or how that will happen. Maybe we’ll meet online. Maybe we’ll meet at a comic book convention, a football game, a grocery store, or just randomly on the street. I honestly don’t care about the circumstances. I just want our paths to cross eventually.

In the meantime, remain strong and hopeful. Keep being tough, sincere, and loving. I’ll keep doing my part, as well.

Until the day comes when we finally meet, I wish you nothing but joy and happiness.

Love Always,
Jack Fisher

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July 23, 2025 · 4:53 am

To Those Behind The Jubilee YouTube Channel: Please STOP!

Seriously, for the good of America, the world, and the human species as a whole, just stop what you’re doing.

I hope I don’t need to go into specifics. If you know what I’m talking about, you can probably fill in the blanks based on the first sentence alone. But if you’re blissfully unaware, I’ll only offer the basics.

Jubilee isn’t just the name of a beloved X-Men character. It’s the name of a YouTube channel that specializes in debates/clickbait. They claim they seek to provoke greater discussions and create better connections between those with different points of view.

That’s bullshit.

Everyone working for this channel knows it’s bullshit. If they’re capable of putting their pants without assistance, they have to know.

They’re not in the business of thought-provoking discussions. They’re in the business of clickbait/rage-bait/anything that will get them trending on social media. They invite controversial figures, mostly “influencers” who operate on the extremes of the political spectrum. And they put them in a room surrounded by people who are diametrically opposed to their viewpoints. Then, they engage in timed debates on various controversial issues.

Now, in the pre-internet era, this would’ve been harmless. Even if you put it on TV, it probably wouldn’t have too great an impact. It would just be a temporary spectacle. But this isn’t just a world dominated by the internet. This is a world where extreme voices can make the most noise and gain both attention and power.

That’s not merely an exercise in free speech. That’s enabling assholes by giving them a large platform, a big audience, and an opportunity to completely change/destabilize public discourse on important topics. I liken it to letting random strangers have a say in important medical decisions while your doctor tells you things you don’t like hearing. Yes, people are free to share their opinions on such matters, but listening to those opinions you prefer is going to have serious consequences.

Now, I admit I did watch a number of these Jubilee debates. I’ll even concede that some of them are entertaining and memorable. But at no point do I ever feel like these debates are productive. I guarantee that not one person changed their mind or even reconsidered a position by watching these debates. If anything, all they do is make everyone more extreme and entrenched.

Certain debates have been plenty controversial, given the figures they’ve invited onto this show. But the one that prompted this post involved journalist Mehdi Hasan, who was tasked with debating 20 far-right conservatives.

Now, I don’t want to provide a link to this video. The last thing I want is for this channel to get any extra clicks at my expense. I’ll just say that the label “far-right conservatives” was too generously. Even calling them outright fascists would’ve been too kind. These people who “debated” Mr. Hasan are just assholes in the highest order.

Their politics have nothing to do with policy. They revolve entirely around being a dick to whoever they want, facing no consequences, and getting paid/empowered by their dickish behavior. These aren’t just people who want to live in conservative utopia. They want a world where they’re masters on a planation and everyone else is a slave who does their bidding.

But to write them off or claim they’re not representative of conservative values is missing the point. The fact remains that Jubilee sought them out. Jubilee platformed and emboldened them. Their rhetoric wasn’t just stupid, hateful, and irresponsible. In this current system of clickbait, bots, and algorithms, their assholery will be rewarded.

Sure, one of the participants lost his job for basically espousing Nazi talking points. But then, he used a go-fund-me to raise thousands of dollars to ensure he’ll be rewarded. And any system or society that effectively rewards people who champion Nazi shit is doomed to fail.

Now, as someone who makes YouTube videos who will never have the audience of Jubilee, I understand the desire to get more views, clicks, and subscribers. But at what point is it worth empowering people who champion Nazi shit? No amount of money is worth it. History has shown what happens when assholes like this are emboldened. We cannot let that history repeat itself.

Once again, I call on everyone behind the Jubilee channel to take a step back, think hard about what you’re doing, and realize this shit isn’t just irresponsible. It’s dangerous. If you want to host more debates with Skip Bayless and passionate sports fans, then go for it. That’s far less likely to involve Nazi shit. But what you did with Mehdi Hasan was far beyond any line that should never be crossed.

You have the power to stop.

You have the power to delete the video or at the very least, apologize for it.

Use that power wisely. Because the people who talk Nazi shit sure as hell won’t.

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June 10, 2025 · 6:36 am

How Dirty, Filthy, Sickeningly Disgusting Public Restrooms Can Change The Course Of Your Life

It’s an inescapable fact of life. At some point, your bladder and bowels will turn against you in the worst possible way at the worst possible time. You could be in the middle of an important meeting. You could be sitting side-by-side with the love of your life, the President of the United States, or the most famous celebrity in the world.

Then, it hits you.

Suddenly, you have to go the bathroom. Either your bladder is about to burst or you’re about to damage your underwear and pants beyond repair. It doesn’t matter how rich, well-connected, or powerful you are. Sometimes, your body will find a way to turn any one moment into something mortifying and/or stressful.

Without getting too graphic, I’ll spare everyone reading this the ugly details of what these situations entail. Since this happens to everyone at some point, I don’t think I have to. But I’m bringing it up because I recently found myself cleaning my bathroom. In doing so, I recalled an incident from many years ago that has impacted me in subtle, yet profound ways. And it has to do with the single most disgusting, dirty, and foul-smelling public restroom I ever had to use.

I understand the bar for awful public restrooms is very high. Depending on where you live in the world, a dirty public restroom might depend heavily on how much or how little actual fecal matter is smeared on the walls. In others, it might just depend on how backed up the toilet is.

I don’t doubt for a second that someone reading this can recall a public restroom experience that was many times worse than anything I ever experienced. But I still wish to share this story, if only to offer a hard lesson in what having to use disgusting public restrooms can to do your psyche.

Like many other formative experiences in my life, this one occurred while I was in college. Specifically, it occurred during my freshman year. That’s relevant because at the university I went to, there were numerous dorm facilities that were in various state of repair/disrepair. And, unfortunately for me, I ended up spending my first full year of college in an all-male dorm.

That fact alone should offer clues as to how dirty it was bound to be. Just picture, for a moment, the scenario beyond the context of college. Take a couple hundred teenage boys around the ages of 18 and 19. Put every one of them in a large, seven-story building. Have them be miles away from parents, relatives, and authority figures for the first time in their lives. Some of these young men have never even done their own laundry.

Things are going to get rowdy, dirty, smelly, and stupid.

There are any number of incidents I can recount from my experience living in that dorm. Looking back on it, I still can’t believe I managed to live there for nearly an entire year while maintaining a relative measure of sanity. But the worst part, by far, of living in that dorm had to do with the shared bathrooms.

Seriously, I cannot put into words how awful the shared bathrooms in an all-male college dorm were.

Yes, the dorm had a cleaning staff. But unless the people working on that staff had superpowers, I don’t see how they could’ve kept those bathrooms clean. And since that staff didn’t work on the weekends, things got really bad on Sundays.

It wasn’t unusual to walk into those bathrooms on a Sunday morning and see every stall clogged, overflowing, or in some state of general shittiness. It also wasn’t unusual to see traces of vomit, food, and other bodily fluids in the shower stalls, which I had to regularly use. I want to say you get used to it. But there are just some things the human brain is not equipped to process.

But on one particular Sunday morning during my freshman year, the true breadth of shittiness in public restrooms was taken to a whole new level. And to this day, my body and my gag reflex has never been so thoroughly strained.

This incident happened during the late spring. By then, I’d seen my share of disgusting crap in the men’s bathrooms. I had also gotten pretty good at managing myself so that, if I ever needed to take a shit, I would be somewhere else on campus where the bathrooms were considerably better. I learned early on that, so long as I limited how often I had to use the bathrooms in a male dorm, I could cope.

But on this morning, my stomach decided test my resolve. For reasons I still don’t understand, I woke up that morning feeling like bodybuilders were tapdancing on my lower intestines while wearing lead bricks as shoes. It hit me in a way where my roommate commented he could hear my stomach from across the room.

That’s when I knew I was in trouble.

Initially, I wondered if it was possible to get to another building with a decent bathroom. But my stomach quickly informed me that time was not on my side. I had to get to a toilet and I had to get to one immediately.

So, I entered the nearest bathroom in my dorm. It was right across the hall. It also happened to be empty, given the early morning hour. However, as soon as I stepped in, I was hit with a sight and a smell that is forever seared into my brain.

Someone, or more likely a group of fellow male students in a less-than-sober mindset, had found a way to utterly desecrate every single toilet in some way, shape, or form. One had a literal mountain of wet, piss-colored toilet paper spilling out of the toilet, onto the floor, and into the neighboring stall. Another had a massive puddle of liquid shit at the rim of the bowl, eager to flow over at the slightest provocation. And the third had what I can only describe as the coiled anaconda of all shits.

It was so awful I nearly threw up on the spot. Had my stomach not been a firestorm of fermenting sewage, I would’ve run to another bathroom. But I had to go. So, I picked a stall, wading through puddles of piss in the process, and did what I had to do.

Again, I’ll spare everyone the details. But trust me, these are NOT details you want to know. All I’ll say is that, when I was done, I had to take a very long shower in another bathroom. I also washed my hands at least 10 times over the course of that day. The memory of what I had experienced in that bathroom was just too raw.

That memory even lingered after I finished my freshman year and got to live in better dorms later on. In that same time, I didn’t just learn to appreciate the simple comfort of a non-filthy bathroom. I actually went out of my way to clean up after myself and even clean around certain areas if I could. It wasn’t much, but it was better than another shitty ordeal, literally and figuratively.

Even after I finished college and moved out of my parents’ house, I made a big deal about keeping the bathrooms clean. And rest assure, if any toilet ever showed signs of backing up or not working properly, I immediately looked into it. The more proactive you can be with a toilet, the better. You don’t have to be a plumber to know how to keep it working.

Now, I live alone in a place that I own. That means I am fully responsible for how clean and functional my bathroom is. I won’t say it’s always spotless. And I won’t say it’s the cleanest bathroom you’ll ever see. I can only be certain that it will always be pleasant to use and you can be confident that the toilet will work, as needed.

I honestly don’t know how long I’ll live in this crazy world. But I am certain that at some point, I’ll find myself in another situation where I’ll have to badly use a bathroom and I’ll have to go into a public bathroom. I just hope that, whenever or wherever it happens, I never have to use a bathroom like the one I used during my freshman year of college.

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March 18, 2025 · 5:50 am

Why You Should Be Skeptical (And Suspicious) Of Those Who Talk About Falling Birthrates

In general, I try not to discuss politics outside of appropriate spaces. And those spaces are usually small, confined, and located within areas where nobody close enough to punch one another. That’s not just a byproduct of having followed the news too closely for the past 10 years. I’ve just learned over the years that talking politics with random people is a quick way to make enemies, get angry, and generally lose what little faith in humanity you might have had.

There’s a time and a place to have political discussions. That time is almost never and that place is almost nowhere, unless you actively work in institutions that deal in such policies. You just have to be aware that certain discussions about certain issues are bound to get heated. And it’s next to impossible to change anyone’s mind about a particular position through these discussions.

However, in my personal experience, which I understand is limited, I’ve noticed there are a few hot-button topics that often double as red flags for certain people. It’s not that the topics themselves aren’t relevant. They usually are. But when certain people single them out as a major area of concern, it warrants a certain level of caution. Because many of those people may not be arguing in good faith.

There are many issues and topics like that. But one in particular, which has become relevant in multiple countries, has to do with falling birthrates. Now, in terms of the actual numbers, there is cause for concern. If you actually look up population trends in numerous countries, you’ll confirm that this is a global trend. And falling birthrates certainly do incur a host of social, political, and economic problems for any given society.

That being said, there’s a right way to approach this issue, as well a wrong/misguided/deeply disturbing way. The right way is more academic than political. You study the factors surrounding the trend. Analyze which of those factors are influenced by certain policies. Then, you take the appropriate prescriptive measures.

But that’s not the approach certain people make. I don’t want to name names, but most of these people are closely aligned with the conservative, right-wing, or reactionary part of the political spectrum. They also tend to be staunch traditionalists who argue society has deviated too much from the morals, values, and social norms we used to have. And addressing the problem of falling birthrates, along with a host of other problems, requires that society reverse that trend.

Now, the people making these points may very well be sincere. They may genuinely believe that people would be happier and more prosperous if they lived like we did in whatever nostalgic past era they idolize, whenever and wherever it might be.

However, in terms of the actual substance of this argument, it’s total bullshit.

And in terms of larger implications, it might even be a mask for a more nefarious agenda.

To understand why, it’s worth asking two important questions with respect to birthrates and those who obsess over it.

Question #1: Who benefits most directly from increasing birthrates?

Question #2: What other agenda does addressing this issue serve?

In the case of falling birthrates and ways to address it, there are certain policy prescriptions that tend to get emphasized over others. Those who like to frame declining birthrates as a serious issue tend not to talk much about the rising costs of childcare, housing, and food. They also tend not to talk much about the fact that wages, on a global scale, have remained relatively stagnant.

Instead, the reactionary crowd will highlight social issues like LGBTQ rights, declining marriage rates, feminism, and a lack of religious affiliation. Even if they touch on some of the economic issues, they won’t label them as a high priority. They’ll just frame women, teenagers, and sexual minorities as deviants or aberrations who are not contributing to society in a meaningful way.

They may claim they’re just concerned about the future of society. But in general, their concerns can often be boiled down to furthering draconian policies on women, workers, and young people. And the people and organizations who benefit are usually who you might expect.

Rich, well-connected business owners need a growing population to buy their products and/or get locked into their network of services.

Powerful, well-connected political organizations need a growing population to sustain the social and economic status quo that put them into power.

Religious organizations need a steady increase in population to ensure more adherents, which in turn means more influence and tax-free money for them.

The ones who don’t benefit are usually women who can’t access or afford family planning. It also negatively impacts LGBTQ+ communities because they’re denigrated for not contributing to the population/consumer/worker base. It also negatively effects workers who get stuck in cycles of poverty because they have too many kids that they cannot afford.

Again, this is not to say that falling birthrates aren’t an issue. There are certainly steps society can take to address this issue. And those steps will definitely vary from country to country. But for certain people of certain political leanings, it’s a cover for regressive, reactionary policies that benefit nobody except those who are already rich and powerful.

Be aware of that because, in most cases, serving the interests of those at the top of an imperfect system only hinders any efforts to address those imperfections.

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October 8, 2024 · 6:05 am

Sexy Short Story: Locker Room Loving

The following is another sexy short story that I wrote with the help of NovelAI. Enjoy!

Selina Marianne Prescott often stayed late after practice. As one of her school’s top track and field athletes, that was to be expected. But she’d always held herself to a higher standard than most. Being an overachiever was just how she was wired. Even as a kid, others often remarked how seriously she took something as minor as a grade school soccer game. But that kind of mentality helped her become a star athlete. It also promised to earn her a scholarship to multiple colleges. Many teachers, coaches, and peers believed she had a bright future ahead of her. But those same people often worried that she pushed herself too hard.

However, they didn’t know that Selina had her own unique ways of dealing with the stress. While she preferred to keep most of those methods private, as she had always been a private person by nature, one particular way had proven quite effective in recent months. And it had to do with her boyfriend, Richter Linwood, who happened to be another overachieving athlete on the school baseball team.

“Don’t stay too late, Selina,” said Coach Helena as she packed up the track and field gear. “At some point, even you have to rest.”

“I’ll be fine, Coach,” Selina assured her as she did a series of stretches near the end of the track. “I promise I’ll be rested before the big match this weekend.”

“I expect you to keep that promise. You’re too young and talented to burn yourself out.”

“I appreciate your concern. But don’t worry. I can handle it.”

Coach Helena shook her head as she finished packing up. Even from a distance, Selina could tell she wasn’t convinced. Her old soccer coach gave her that same look last fall. They all seemed genuinely worried that she pushed herself too hard. If only they knew how adept she’d become at managing the rigors.

Selina did a few more laps on the track until Coach Helena was out of sight. At one point, she glanced over to the other field to see that the baseball team was finishing up as well. Most of the team had already returned to the locker room to shower and change. Some had already left. But like always, Richter stayed late to do some batting practice. When it looked like his coach was ready to call it a night, he smiled towards her and waved. Selina smiled and waved back. It was a simple gesture, but it sent a subtle message that came in loud and clear.

“Time to hit the showers,” Selina said to herself, still smiling.

With the sun setting and the fields mostly vacant, Selina returned to the girls’ locker room. She only passed one other teammate along the way, Debra, who was on her way out and talking to her mother on the phone to pick her up. By the time she opened her locker, stripped out of her sweaty uniform, and retrieved her towel and toiletries, she was completely alone.

“Peace and quiet,” Selina mused. “Perfect!”

Humming to herself, she made her way towards the large group shower areas. It was still wet and somewhat steamy. Most of the team had already used it. She could even smell hints of the overpriced shampoo that Irene Waylon often used after practice. That didn’t bother her. She didn’t like showering around other girls in the first place.

After setting her towel aside, Selina turned the shower at the far end on and waited for the water to get hot, which didn’t take long. Once it was ready, she let out a content sigh and stood under the hot torrent of water.

“Mmm…just what I needed,” Selina said.

For a few brief moment, she just stood there and enjoyed the feeling of hot water flowing over her naked body. Being an overachiever, she worked up plenty of sweat and grime. Even though she was used to it, that didn’t make a hot shower afterwards any less relaxing. It was one of the best parts of her day. But it was hardly enough to relieve all the stress and strain she’d accumulated.

As she stood under the water, she heard the feint sound of the door to the girls’ locker room opening and closing. In most other circumstances, this would be concerning. She was the last one from her team to finish. But Selina wasn’t worried. Instead, she found herself smiling in anticipation.

“Might have spoken too soon,” she said under her breath.

The aspiring athlete remained under the torrent of water, hugging her shoulders and enjoying the feeling. A light steam had already built up in the stalls. She glanced briefly to her right to see the bottle of shampoo and conditioner she’d brought with her. But she held off on reaching for it, waiting another minute for what she hoped would bring some real stress relief.

Finally, she sensed it. Someone had entered the shower stall with her. They might have thought they’d been sneaky, not making a noise before slipping in through the cloud of steam. But Selina knew. And as soon as she felt a familiar figure approach, she didn’t bother hiding her reaction.

“Hey,” said a deep, masculine voice that had no business being in a girls’ locker room.

“Hey yourself,” Selina replied, not even turning around as she smiled to herself.

It was Richter. She knew that voice well.

She felt a hand on her butt, followed by a firm squeeze. A powerful arm wrapped around her from behind, another hand finding its way to her breast. He squeezed it gently, just in the way she liked it. Selina let out a soft, affectionate purr. This was the true relief she needed.

“Do you have any idea how much trouble we could get in for this?” he asked casually.

“I don’t like to think about it,” Selina replied, now leaning into his embrace.

“Do you care how big a risk I take? Sneaking in the girls’ locker room to be with my girlfriend?”

“Of course, I care. That’s why I like to make the risk worthwhile.”

With a devious grin, Selina turned around and embraced her lover. His naked body was pressed up against hers. She could feel his firm chest, his hard stomach, and the bulge of his penis between her thighs. He was a tall, fit, and handsome young man. She was a lucky girl. Being overachievers, they learned early on in their relationship how well they complemented one another.

He kissed her passionately, his strong hands exploring her wet body. His lips lingered on hers as his tongue snaked into her mouth. Selina didn’t hesitate to reciprocate, letting out an approving purr as her hands caressed his broad back. Their bodies pressed together and the water pouring down on them only made it feel better. It was almost as if they were melting into each other, the hot water serving as the perfect lubricant.

Richter’s hands slid down her slick back and grabbed her ass. The strength in his grip surprised her. She gasped at the feeling, her arousal getting the better of her. His fingers dug into her skin, squeezing her buttocks. It was like he knew just where to touch her to turn her on.

“Mmm…I’ve been waiting for this all day,” Richter said, kissing her neck.

“I could tell,” Selina teased.

“Oh really? What gave it away?”

“You’re not as subtle as you think…especially when you want me.”

He leaned in again and kissed her deeply. His hands moved to her breasts, grabbing and fondling them. It was an aggressive approach, but Selina loved every second. He wasn’t normally so forceful, but it was exactly what she wanted.

As their kisses grew stronger, his hands became bolder. He caressed her breasts, his fingers teasing her nipples. As his fingers pinched her hardened buds, she let out a deep gasp. That sound, followed by a lustful moan, got him worked up in all the right ways. He pressed his lips against hers and his tongue snaked into her mouth, probing and licking her lips. She moaned approvingly, her hips rocking subtly as the heat between her thighs grew.

“You’re really in the mood tonight,” Selina said between heated kisses.

“Are you complaining?”

“Not in the slightest!”

Her boyfriend chuckled as he continued kissing her. His hands roamed her body, groping and caressing her wet, naked flesh. She leaned into him, their tongues swirling in an affectionate dance. As their lips parted, he gazed into her eyes and smiled.

“Then turn around…bend over,” Richter said, his voice low and husky.

Selina didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. She just gave him a seductive look and did as he commanded.

Turning away, Selina bent over and placed her hands on the wall. The water from the shower head continued flowing, raining down on her. The temperature was perfect. It didn’t distract her in the slightest. All her focus was on the powerful young man behind her.

Richter positioned himself behind her, his hands moving over her hips and along her sides. He kissed the back of her neck, sending a warm shiver down her spine. But his hands remained focused. They moved around her curves and found her breasts again, fondling and squeezing them. Then, one hand slid down her stomach and reached between her legs.

“Ohh Rick!” Selina moaned.

Richter’s fingers stroked the outer folds of her pussy. They were already wet, not because of the shower, but because of how turned on she was. Selina arched her back and gasped at the feeling. She’d been craving this since their last encounter and her body was showing it.

Her lover caressed her folds and teased her clit, rubbing and pressing them. He did it slowly at first, then a little faster. The added friction made her gasp louder. It wasn’t long before her body was shaking and her toes were curling.

“I love it when you get this wet,” Richter said, his words tickling her ear.

His finger moved up and down her slit, coating it in her moisture. His thumb teased her clit, stroking the tender bud. Selina’s knees shook and her hands clenched, her nails digging into the tiles. It was the kind of stimulation she’d been craving and her body responded in full.

Richter’s fingers moved with skill and dexterity, playing her like an instrument. They rubbed and pressed her folds, probing her depths and drawing out more of her juices. It was a beautiful melody of lustful desire, one that only he could create. And he could do it so easily.

“Mmm…you’re getting good at this,” Selina said.

“What can I say? You inspire me,” Richter replied.

“Inspiration is vital for any athlete.”

“But this is a special kind of inspiration!”

He stopped teasing her and his hand retreated. But instead of leaving her hanging, Richter’s hands grabbed her waist and lifted her off her feet. Selina gasped as her back was pressed against the tiled wall. He supported her with both hands, spreading her legs. His cock was aimed at her pussy, the tip rubbing her slit.

Selina’s eyes were closed. She didn’t have to open them to know what was coming next. Her entire body was primed and ready. Her toes curled in anticipation, her heart pounding. The tip of his cock nudged her entrance, her body begging for it. And when he pushed it in, she let out a long, loud, and relieved sigh.

“Oh yes!” Selina exclaimed.

“Selina…” Richter moaned.

Her boyfriend penetrated her deeply, filling her inner depths with his rigid member. It was the feeling she’d been craving, the stress reliever that worked better than any massage. His cock stretched her inner muscles and she could feel his girth pulsing within her. It was just what her body needed.

“So hard…so deep,” she told him, her voice low and sultry.

With a grunt, Richter pulled back and thrust into her again. His cock buried deep inside her, stretching her inner muscles and sending a wave of pleasure through her. She gasped and let out a whimper. It was just the start, but already her mind was racing.

He pumped his hips, pushing his length deeper and harder into her. Selina’s pussy was hot and wet, her inner walls squeezing his cock tightly. It was the perfect combination of friction and moisture, his cock throbbing within her. He grunted and breathed heavily, holding her tight and thrusting with purpose.

“Rick! Rick! Oohhh Rick!” Selina moaned.

The two young lovers were lost in each other’s arms. Nothing else mattered in that moment. The hot water flowed over their bodies. Their hearts pounded and their loins burned with passion. They were connected in the most intimate and sensual of ways.

Richter pumped his hips and slammed his cock into his girlfriend, the young athlete. He could feel her inner muscles clenching and releasing, gripping his cock tightly. He thrust deep and fast, burying his manhood inside her with each push. She was hot, wet, and tight. Her moans echoed through the locker room.

“Fuck! Oh God, Selina…so good!” Richter groaned.

“Yes! Yes! So good! I want this! I…need this!” Selina exclaimed.

Her athletic boyfriend picked up the pace. He fucked her faster, his cock throbbing within her. His hands were strong and steady. His legs were sturdy and his hips pumped rhythmically. With each thrust, she could feel the growing need within him.

Richter fucked her hard and fast. His hands held her waist, her back still pressed against the wall. His cock pistoned into her, his balls slapping against her. Their moans and the sound of their lovemaking filled the locker room. The water falling over their naked bodies only amplified the experience.

“Ohh yeah! Mmm fuck me!” Selina moaned.

“Gonna cum soon!” Richter said.

“Me too! Oohhh me too! I’m…so…close!”

Their bodies were hot and wet, their passion burning hotter. His cock was rock hard, throbbing with the need to climax. Her pussy was soaked, her body ready to receive him. Richter continued fucking her hard and fast. He held her up, his strong arms and muscular body working together.

“Yes! Yes! Ahhh yes!” Selina cried out.

“That’s it, babe. Cum with me!” Richter told her.

She was at his mercy. Her athletic body was at the height of her performance, her mind and body focused solely on their mutual pleasure. Her heart pounded, her breasts heaved, and her body trembled. The orgasm was imminent.

With one final, powerful thrust, Richter’s cock erupted inside her. Hot, potent seed gushed from the tip, splashing her inner walls. The warmth spread through her, reaching every corner of her being. That heat ignited a fire in her core and her orgasm followed shortly thereafter.

“Ohhh yesssss!” Selina screamed.

Richter kept his cock inside her, holding her tight. She shook and trembled in his embrace. Her orgasm was intense, her juices gushing down his shaft. He could feel her inner walls clenching, milking him of every last drop.

It was the kind of relief that only came from a passionate tryst, one born of mutual needs. Selina and Richter had grown closer over the years, both in and out of school. Their mutual passion for athletics and their drive to succeed had brought them together. In moments like these, it also drove them to new heights.

After a few more moments, their orgasms passed. Their breaths were heavy and their bodies were tired, but they felt refreshed. They held onto each other, sharing the same warmth and closeness. The shower still rained down on them, the hot water washing away all the grime.

“So…did I inspire you enough?” Selina asked.

“More than enough,” Richter assured her, leaning in and giving her a kiss.

The two shared another laugh and another kiss. For a moment, they stayed like that, enjoying the closeness. But eventually, Richter slipped out of her and Selina returned to the ground, her legs a little shaky. They still needed to wash up. They still needed to get dressed and catch a ride home. But for now, they just enjoyed this sweet, intimate moment in the girls’ locker room.

As athletes, they put in so much hard work, striving to be the best. But as lovers, they made that work all the more worthwhile.

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September 20, 2024 · 6:54 am

Sharing A Weird (But Funny) Dream Involving My Nephew

Dreams are strange, mysterious things. Many of us have them, regardless of age, culture, language, or circumstances. Science has tried studying them, but even decades of medical research hasn’t shed much insight into what they are or why they happen.

For most of us, they these strange experiences that we struggle to remember once we wake up. They may leave us confused, restless, or anxious. But whenever they happen, it feels like our brain is trying to tell us something and we’re struggling to listen.

Trying to navigate them or just being able to remember them can be a challenge. For a time, when I was in college, I actually tried to keep a dream journal. I honestly don’t know where it is. But I did find that keeping a journal did help me remember my dreams more vividly. They were still rarely clear. They also weren’t very logical or revealing. But I did find it helpful, at least in terms of exploring the experience.

Over the course of my life, certain dreams have stood out more than others. Some have been pleasant. Some have been not-so-pleasant. Others just don’t make any sense and weren’t worth remembering. But one in particular, which occurred just a couple years ago, still stands out to me. For some reason, I can remember this dream more clearly than most. And I wasn’t even keeping a journal at the time.

I’d still like to share it because, in addition to actually remembering it, I found it funny. On top of that, it involves one of my adorable nephews, which is probably why it stands out more than others. It happened when one of them was still an infant who couldn’t walk. But to this day, I often find myself thinking about that dream whenever I visit him to get in some quality Uncle Jack time.

The dream played out in a strange, surreal sequence, as many dreams do. I found myself lying on a floor with soft white rug. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but I did recognize where I was. It was a room in my sister and her husband’s house. Specifically, it was my nephew’s room. I’d been there before whenever I visited them with my parents. It’s where he kept his toys and took his naps.

But for reasons I don’t fully understand, I somehow fell asleep in this room while lying on the floor. To be honest, that does sound like something I might do. If I ever get tired and groggy, I’ll fall asleep in strange situations. But what made this stand out even more was that my infant nephew was right there with me.

However, he wasn’t sleeping. He was sitting up right next to me. He had this big marker in his hand, not unlike the ones I’d seen him draw with before. And he was using it to write something on my face. I distinctly remember feeling it. I also remember looking up at him, seeing that distinct look in his face he got whenever he drew, and surmising what he was doing.

At this point in the dream, my sister and her husband show up. I become a bit more alert, so I’m able to get up slightly. But when I see them, they’re both laughing hysterically. They’re laughing so hard they’re holding onto each other to keep from keeling over. Then, my nephew begins laughing too. And I can still feel the marker on my face.

As the laughter escalates, I become urgently curious. I try to get up and find a mirror to see what my nephew drew on my face. The bathroom in my sister’s house just happens to be across from his room. So, I rush in. But before I can see what he drew on my face, I woke up.

It was a somewhat jarring feeling, waking up from a dream like that. On this particular morning, I distinctly remember it being around 4:30 a.m. I also remember just sitting up in my bed, shaking my head, and laughing to myself as well. I was honestly still very curious. I really did want to know what my nephew drew on my face that had my sister and her husband laughing so hard. Sadly, I’ll probably never know.

But to this day, I still remember that dream fondly. I’ve included it in the many other fond memories I’ve forged with my nephew, as well as my nieces. I’ve said before how much I love being an uncle. Maybe this dream was my brain’s way of telling me how much I’d embraced that role and how important my nieces and nephews are to me.

If that’s the case, then that just makes this dream more precious.

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