You Should Be Listening To Bullseye With Jesse Thorn

Last year I started getting more and more into podcasts.  This coincided directly with the download of NPR One.  Of course, Pop Culture Happy Hour became my must-hear event.  I grew to really enjoy Freakonomics Radio as well.  I tried a few others that didn’t do much for me.

Eventually, a friend recommended Bullseye with Jesse Thorn.  My friend said that Pop Culture Happy Hour got a little tired for him, but that Bullseye addressed some of the same topics in a far more interesting way.

I found Bullseye on the NPR One app and took a look at past titles.  They typically featured two public figures of some sort, usually actors, comedians, or musicians.  None of the names I saw really interested me.  I moved on.

Not too long after, I kept running out of podcasts to listen to.  I didn’t have a deep rotation, so within a few days of a new week I would already be searching for something fresh.  I remembered my friend’s recommendation.

I dove in and listened to a few Bullseye episodes a week, and I did this whether the interviewee appealed to me or not.  Finally, Bullseye found my sweet-spot.  The episode focused on interviewing interviewers.  Jesse spoke with Katie Couric, Marc Maron, and Audie Cornish.  I listened to Jesse asking the most interesting questions, and I found his interviewees being far more candid than I expected.  That’s when I realized the magic of Bullseye — Jesse Thorn makes everyone interesting.

My friend, once again, was right.

Thorn has such an ease about him.  His voice is incredibly pleasant; he’s got a fantastic radio voice.  He’s warm and unafraid to laugh.  Yet, he’s bold in what he decides to ask.  He’s direct.  I’ve heard him forge ahead with difficult questions despite trepidation.  I’ve also heard him pump the brakes and check on his guest’s comfort when the conversation’s direction became a little too intense.  Sometimes he barely speaks at all because his guest gets going on such a roll.

Thorn has an innate ability to ask about things that his guests often want to discuss.  However, those questions are also things he knows his listeners will find interesting.  This seems to be a rare instinct in his field.

That’s why Bullseye works.  It took me too long to discover this.  I had several starts and stops with Bullseye, but it eventually dawned on me that every interview, no matter who the guest, will entertain and prove educational.  I’d never heard of Beth Ditto, yet Jesse’s interview with her is among my favorites.  Jesse showed me a whole new side to Julia Louis-Dreyfus.  He made me realize Rick Moranis is probably a genius.  He and Louie Anderson damn near made me cry while I mowed my lawn.  Every episode touches me in some way — there are no wasted moments.

Honestly, though, it’s Jesse himself who keeps me coming back.  I’ve listened to enough installments now to piece together a bit of the man himself, and he’s someone I want to support.  His life has not always been easy, and I love that he is willing to share that with his audience and guests.  I started following him on Twitter and I find him wise, funny, blunt, and receptive.  In fact, he’s actually interacted with me on occasion, which is always a thrill.  (The folks at Pop Culture Happy Hour?  Not so much as a “like.”  Not even once.  But, who’s keeping score?  [I guess I am … apparently.])

So if you’re looking for a new podcast, I completely recommend Bullseye with Jesse Thorn.  Keep in mind it will take a few episodes to really win you over, but once you get a feel for it, you will look forward to it every week.  You can find the show at NPR One or Maximum Fun.  Let’s go.

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(Did you enjoy this article?  Check out Scott William Foley’s short stories HERE!)

 

 

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Maundy Thursday

Today is Maundy Thursday, the day in which Jesus revealed one of the Twelve Disciples would betray him and issued his final command.

A few weeks ago, a woman from my church contacted me and asked if I’d like to fill in for the role of Simon the Zealot during their Maundy Thursday play.  It’s a reenactment of The Last Supper.  Though the thought terrified me, it also excited me, and so I said yes.  I’ve always regretted not getting involved in high school drama, so I figured, hey, even though I’m 40, better late than never, right?

I practiced and I practiced and I practiced.  The thought of messing up in front of my family and strangers drove me to perfection.  By the time our only rehearsal rolled around, I thought I had my short paragraph perfectly memorized.  As it turned out, I did not.

Fortunately, everyone involved were extremely nice with fantastic attitudes.  They were a forgiving lot, assured me I’d get it down before the night of the performance, and laughed everything off.  It wasn’t a terrible rehearsal, mind you, but it did not go as well as I hoped.  I decided to practice even harder, even going so far as dropping by the church and getting in some private rehearsal.  Spending some extra time working with the stage, playing with the room’s acoustics, and getting a feel for my body language renewed my confidence.

Tonight we performed, and it went splendidly.  I had the shortest lines of anyone, and the guys amazed me not only by how well they knew their lines, but also by how committed they were to their roles, how much energy they projected, and how much they seemed to truly enjoy the moment.  We did two performances — one at 5:00 p.m. and one at 7:00 p.m.  Both were wonderful experiences.

After both performances, we stood in the lobby and greeted the audience.  People were so appreciative of us!  It really touched me how genuinely they seemed to enjoy the play and how gracious they were to us for performing it.  Talking with the audience definitely made me realize how powerful acting out this seminal moment is for people.  Several folks told me that seeing our expressions, hearing our voices, watching us interact — these things made The Last Supper feel all the more tangible.  It reminded them that it’s not just some story — it is truth.

Of course, it helped that we had a fantastic director.  We were also shepherded by an  amazing lead actor.  The costumes were phenomenal.  The backdrop actually looked like the backdrop from da Vinci’s famed painting.  The sound and lights were top-notch.  For a small, humble production, I think it made quite an impression.

For my part, it’s the first time I’ve ever done anything quite so public with my church, and certainly my first time acting on stage.  I honestly hope they will ask me to play Simon again.  It felt good to be on stage.  It felt good to deliver an important message.  It felt good to see my family in the front row.  It felt good to work side by side with such devoted, kind men and women.  It felt good to give back to the church.

Happy Easter to all!

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Help My Treatment Of The Batman Get Noticed … PLEASE!

Friends, I know this is crazy.  It’s crazy.  I get it.  But I’ve written a treatment for The Batman.  It’s good.  Seriously.

I know what you’re thinking.  “Scott, you teach high school English in Central Illinois.  You have no connections to the movie industry.  You’ve gone batty.”

Yes, but remember I have a few things going for me.  First and foremost, I’ve been reading Batman for over 37 years.  I literally know this character better than I know myself.  I know his history, his persona, his potential.  I also have a firm grasp on what’s come before, his position in the new shared DC cinematic universe, where this universe seems to want to go, and where the fans would like to see Batman himself go.  I’ve taken into account Ben Affleck’s desire to perhaps leave the franchise, and I’ve given him an out if he wants it.  I realize Joe Manganiello is getting positive response in potentially playing Deathstroke, and so the assassin is still Batman’s primary antagonist.

I’ve got a treatment that develops characters amidst nonstop action.  And though Batman and Deathstroke are the major players, I’ve got a story that logically utilizes virtually Batman’s entire mythology — both hero and villain.  Yes, I’m serious.

But here’s the problem: I’m an outsider.  I’ve tried reaching everyone associated with the film via email and Twitter to no avail.  I have no agent.  I have no Hollywood union.  I have no connections to that world at all.

Another problem?  I can’t share the actual treatment online.  If I posted the treatment to the Internet, the plot would be spoiled, and the studio would have no interest in making that movie.  I somehow need to capture Hollywood’s attention enough to make them want to get in touch with me and read the treatment.

That’s where you come in.  I need you — each and every one of you — to share this post.  My hope is that you’ll share it, you’ll say you believe in me, and it will build so much strength that Matt Reeves, Ben Affleck, Zack Snyder, and the rest of the film’s creators won’t be able to help but take notice.

All I want is a chance to share my treatment of The Batman.  If you know me at all, you know I’ve spent a lifetime preparing for this opportunity.  Please help me succeed in making it happen.

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Regarding the First Five Episodes of Iron Fist

I got really nervous a few weeks ago because the critics were slamming Iron Fist.  Generally speaking, they accused the first six episodes of lacking direction, excitement, or any real sense of danger.

Fortunately, I decided to watch it anyway.  I’m here to tell you – in regards to the first five episodes, the critics got it wrong.

Let’s be honest, though, all of the Netflix Marvel shows have minor flaws.  Generally speaking, they are very good.  But, most have pacing issues.  It’s my opinion that all of them last three to five episodes too long.

Though Iron Fist is not as socially relevant as Luke Cage, Jessica Jones, or Daredevil, it’s still a lot of fun.  Danny Rand (Iron Fist) is not especially tortured, the show takes place so far mostly during the daylight hours, and the plot is pretty straightforward.

I won’t say Finn Jones, who plays Danny Rand/Iron Fist, is the world’s greatest actor, but he definitely wields a charm as the title character that is pretty magnetic.  He tends to deliver his lines with the same cadence and inflection no matter what he says, but I can’t tell if that’s signifying his inner peace or if it’s just bad acting.  I’m guessing it’s the former.  I think it’s interesting that Jones plays Rand rather boyish in a lot of ways.  He dresses like a grown up ten-year-old, and he intermittently tosses out a quick “awesome” or “cool” just as a child would.  Of course, this makes sense considering the character’s circumstances.  However, when it comes time for the action, Jones appears more than capable.  I believe at those moments that he is the Iron Fist.

Jessica Henwick’s Colleen Wing is definitely stealing the show.  Her subplot feels totally organic to Rand’s and she is just all kinds of cool.  So far, nothing about her (or the show) feels forced.  This is a good thing.  She just gets better and better with each episode.

Joy and Ward Meachum, the brother and sister duo running Danny’s father’s company, at first really annoyed me.  I won’t say much about them, but both have grown on me quite a bit.  They are far more complicated than I initially expected.  They are also far more sympathetic than I originally suspected.

That’s all I want to say for now because I don’t want to spoil anything for you.  Though you don’t have to watch the other Netflix Marvel shows to get on board Iron Fist, there are plenty of nuggets to enjoy if you’ve been watching them all.

The critics seem to have it wrong in this case.  Iron Fist has interesting characters, a decent plot, lots of great action, actors that play well off of each other, and two very charismatic performances by Finn Jones and Jessica Henwick.

I’m sure there will be a lull before too long, because that just tends to happen with these shows, but so far I have no complaints.  If you’ve been on the fence with Iron Fist, I recommend you give it a try!

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(Did you enjoy this article?  Check out Scott William Foley’s short stories HERE!)

An Open, Encouraging Letter To Ben Affleck

Ben Affleck, the rumors are swirling that you want to give up playing Batman.  Please don’t.

The Internet can be a beautiful, wonderful place full of information, inspiration, and innovation.  Unfortunately, it can also be a putrid pit of negativity.  It certainly seems as though only those with vile complaints take the time to make their voices heard on the Web.

Well, Ben Affleck, it’s time to spread some positivity.

I’m a lifelong Bat-fan.  As a forty-year-old high school English teacher (and, yes, I am working on a novel—it’s mandatory), Batman has been a constant in my life since 1980.  For the English teachers out there, that’s thirty-seven years.

I’ve enjoyed Batman teaming up with Scooby-Doo, I loved the Super Friends, Adam West will always hold a special place in my heart, Michael Keaton and Tim Burton blew my mind, The Animated Series proved itself a masterpiece, Frank Miller scared me while aweing me, Val Kilmer didn’t scar me, George Clooney kinda did, and then Christian Bale and Christopher Nolan took Batman someplace both old and new in a way that felt important.

But you, Ben Affleck, you’re doing something that’s never been done before.  You are laying the groundwork for a cinematic Batman that must play with others.  No one else had the guts to do what you guys are doing.  No one else dared put Batman’s dark costume on the same screen as the Flash’s, Wonder Woman’s, or Superman’s only slighter less dark costume.  You dared take Batman back to his vigilante roots, and you are brave enough to depict his evolution not only into a team player, but the heart and soul of the Justice League.  Batman has endured a long and illustrious cinematic life, but you are truly breaking new ground.

I know the trolls have been really tough on you.  I understand you are sick and tired of fielding questions about a movie you haven’t even started filming yet.  I recognize that the expectations are impossible to meet.  In the here and now, you have a thankless job.  But please keep the big picture in mind.  You have a vision for where you want to take this character.  You see the end result, though it may be years away.  In time, people will appreciate you and your efforts.  You will win over the haters, trust me.

How do I know this, Ben Affleck?  I’m a diehard Batman fan, and you won me over immediately.  I am being totally honest when I say that I loved Batman v Superman.  I acknowledge it as the initial step in a marathon.   Of course Batman and Superman wouldn’t get along at first!  But, with his death, Batman realizes the great ally he’s lost, and with Superman’s eventual return, both men will recognize even further the good they can do.  In a way, Justice League will echo The Lego Batman Movie – Batman is ultimately a family man.   The orphan always builds his own family.  He has an army of Robins and a multiverse of teammates.  The aloof Dark Knight is nothing of the sort.  You are depicting the advancement of a brooding cynical man believing in heroes again and leading those heroes to a better tomorrow.  In the end, everyone will see that.

So, please, don’t step away.  Don’t interrupt the journey you’ve begun.  Anytime you’re feeling blue, get in touch and I’ll build you back up.  Want to know why you’re my third favorite Batman?  (Sorry, you’ve yet to top Adam West and Michael Keaton.  You’ve got to win over my inner child with those two guys and I just don’t know if that’s possible.)  First of all, you’re big, man.  I mean, you’re a really big dude.  Batman is also a big dude.  And, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you can deliver the smug, arrogant Batman/Bruce Wayne for which we’ve all been pining.  There’s an intelligence behind your eyes that make us believe this is the world’s greatest detective.  You ooze charm, both with the mask on and off.  You can look intimidating as hell one minute, and then project a heart-breaking inner turmoil the next.  You’re able to take every dimension of Batman that we love and combine it into your performance.  Furthermore, you’ve got great chemistry with Gal Gadot, and Batman must always have chemistry with Wonder Woman.  It’s geek law.

Ignore the hate, Ben Affleck. Persevere.  Know that you’ve really struck a chord with Bat-fans everywhere.  Sadly, as a society, we’re slow to heap praise.  Well, I’m heapin’, baby!  I believe in your vision, your performance, and your interpretation.  I believe, in the end, you will be the Batman for generations to come.

Of course, this could all just be a power play to gain leverage on the studio for some reason.  In which case, I wish you luck.  Whatever the case may be, my sentiments remain unchanged!

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Why the Amazon Show Fleabag Deserves Your Attention   

I first heard about the Amazon comedy Fleabag from Glen Weldon during NPR’s Pop Culture Happy Hour.  Weldon made a point to let the listening audience know that Fleabag is so much more than it seems.  He referenced in particular the final episode, which, according to Weldon, proved especially poignant.

What can I say?  Weldon’s praise captured my interest.  Best of all, the first season is only six episodes long, with each episode averaging not quite half an hour.  That’s the sort of fleeting commitment I adore in a show.

I introduced the possibility to my wife.  I sold it to her much the same as Weldon sold it to me, and she also seemed interested in the concept of the show.  Plus, we agreed that if either of us didn’t care for the first episode, we would jettison it from our lives and move on.

We obviously both liked it or I wouldn’t be writing about it so exhaustively and, perhaps by the time you’re done reading, exhaustingly …

The show features a British woman in her early thirties in England.  She is never mentioned by name, but the summary of each show refers to her as “Fleabag.”  Yes, “Fleabag.”  Only as “Fleabag.”  She has a habit of speaking to the camera with brief asides and explanations, letting us in on a particular joke or an integral piece of information.  When we first meet her, she is having sex with a man while offering us a play by play of the activity and even adding in a few predictions of what’s to come.  When the man rolls her over in order to use a different <ahem!> … orifice, “Fleabag” reacts unexpectedly, hilariously, and in such a way that we learn everything we need to know about her.

Or so we think.

The actress playing “Fleabag” is Phoebe Waller-Bridge, and she is absolutely charming, which is astounding because she’s playing a character that should be utterly unlikable.  Her little quips to the camera are typically biting, but it’s her facial expressions that won my wife and me over.  She will deliver the most amazing joke with nothing more than a lift of her eyebrow.  She will let you know exactly what she’s thinking with a quick glare.  Honestly, Waller-Bridge entertained to no end and enriched a character that really wouldn’t work if played by someone else.

Be warned, though, this is a raunchy show.  There are many sexual situations, loads of suggestive dialogue, and ample visits by sex toys.  The language is rough, very rough, with “f-bombs” galore.  However, I wouldn’t describe it as a “dirty” show.  There is virtually no nudity by actual human beings.  If I remember, there was an errant breast coming out of a shirt and a few shots of men’s rear ends.  The most explicit things on camera were often, again, the sex toys (which were not actually in use).

So while this is a comedy, it slowly revealed itself to be something far more, just as Glen Weldon said.  I want to offer caution here, because while I will not explicitly spoil anything past the second episode, you will more than likely be able to connect a few dots.  It’s just that I can’t really address what moved me the most about this show without getting into a few specific details …

You learn early on that Fleabag (I’m dropping the quotes from here on out) is fairly amoral.  She’s not necessarily out to purposefully hurt anyone, but her impulsivity and lack of forethought to both word and deed often upsets someone in her immediate vicinity, whether strangers, friends, or family.  Actually, she doesn’t have any friends.  More on that later …

She has no qualms in taking advantage of someone to meet her own agenda, nor does she mind being taken advantage of so long as that also ultimately suits her base desires.  I wouldn’t call her a master manipulator, but she is a manipulator, to be sure.

Fleabag sleeps around, steals, drinks too much, curses, degrades people, and cuts corners whenever possible.  It’s no wonder she’s friendless.

But she hasn’t always been.

In fact, we learn through flashbacks that Fleabag had a wonderful friend, one whom she loved dearly.  They opened a café together.  Sadly, though, her friend died, leaving Fleabag with the failing café, no other real friends, and a spiraling case of depression that becomes more and more obvious as the series progresses.

Her sister, Claire, humors Fleabag as best she can.  Claire is also a complicated person, though, with issues of her own.  Though very successful, Claire cannot seem to relent control to anyone, cannot navigate a dubious marriage, and cannot achieve enough introspection to glean what she really wants from life.  She has much in common with Fleabag, but she manages normalcy in the outside world far more productively.

Her father has remarried after the death of Fleabag’s mother due to breast cancer.  His new wife is actually the sisters’ godmother, a family friend since their childhood.  The stepmother is the portrait of passive aggressiveness as she makes the sisters feel unwelcome all the while with a smile plastered across her face.  The sisters hate her, she hates them, and the father seems too meek to confront either situation.  In the process, Fleabag appears, though she never gives voice to it, to feel as though she’s lost her father as well as her mother.

The show achieves originality when you slowly begin to realize that Fleabag’s abysmal behavior is absolutely the byproduct of guilt, anger, depression and low self-esteem.  It never crosses over into cliché, it never dives into pop psychology, but it does become very apparent that she only feels of value when someone sexually craves her.  She uses sex as therapy for all of her issues, but never realizes the promiscuous sex is only compounding her problems.

Yeah, pretty deep territory for a comedy.

Furthermore, we can relate to her.  I think we’ve all done something we wish we hadn’t in the hopes of acquiring someone’s approval or favor.  She’s a likable person doing very unlikable things, and I know I personally can say I’ve been there as well.  Haven’t we all in some facet or another?

This character has lost her best friend.  Her sister doesn’t trust her.  Her father will not stand up for her.  Her stepmother detests her.  She’s losing her business.  She can’t pay her bills.  She has every reason in the world not to give a shit about anything.

Which she doesn’t.

Until … she does.

The beauty of that sixth episode is what happens when she does finally care.  How will her family react when she actually tries to engage them meaningfully?  How will she respond when she finally faces the truth of her friend’s death?  What happens when she gazes within and attains a manner of self-realization?

Comedy!

Honestly, Fleabag is hilarious, but it doesn’t shy away from these profoundly important moments.  It never feels heavy even as it’s dealing with incredibly troubling material, and it always prompts an uncomfortable chuckle, an awkward giggle, and an inappropriate laugh at just the wrong time.  It is a serious show wrapped so deeply within a comedy that it’s not until you think about each episode afterwards that you realize its gravitas.

Glen Weldon, you were right.  Fleabag is definitely worth a watch.

P.S.  I know I didn’t discuss her timid boyfriend, whom she pushes away at every opportunity.  I’ve written over a 1,000 words at this point, and frankly, he would require another 1,000, and I won’t be presumptuous enough to believe I deserve that much of your attention.  Plus, it’s late.  And, I’m tired.  Good night.

A Daddy’s Dilemma: The Story Of Star Wars, My Daughter, and a Christmas Recital

Little has tested my mettle as a father like the recent decision made by my four-year-old daughter.  This daughter, whom I love with all my heart, has never before been willing to participate in any kind of recital, play, or even–until mere months ago–photographs.  Imagine my utter panic when she announced that this year would be unlike any other in that she would like to take part in her daycare’s Christmas recital.

I know what you’re thinking.  Yes, I said “utter panic.”

Ordinarily I would be overjoyed at the prospect of my four-year-old defeating her reluctance to appear in public performances, especially those captured by photographic means.  Normally I would encourage her, support her, and champion her every step of the way.

Unfortunately, there is one small, minor, miniscule, tiny, minute problem.  You see, her star debut happens to coincide with Star Wars: Rogue One.  To be more precise, it occurs at the exact time printed on the advance tickets I bought for Rogue One’s opening night.

I am something of  Star Wars fan.  I grew up with the original trilogy, made lightsabers out of wrapping paper tubes, and nearly lost my sanity when I somehow misplaced my Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker.  You know, the one in the black outfit with the green lightsaber.  (My father found him several months later in the garden.  To this day, I blame my older brother [but don’t tell him I said that].)  I have been looking forward to Rogue One for an eternity.  When tickets were announced, I stalked my favorite theater’s website waiting for them to go on sale.  This theater has reserved seating, so they tend to release their tickets sporadically, one day at a time.  It can be maddening.  However, my efforts were rewarded.  I eventually got the seats I wanted at the time I wanted.  Ah, the benefits of patience resulting from middle age coupled with a credit card …  Life was good.  So good.

Cue the bomb dropping.  We were actually on the way to my eight-year-old’s Christmas recital when my four-year-old proclaimed from the backseat that this year she too would espouse the merits of Christ, Rudolph, and jolly old Saint Nick.  “What?” I cried.  “That’s wonderful!”  My wife joined in, exclaiming, “We’re so proud of you!”

I then asked my wife what date the recital would occur.

I then asked my wife at what time the recital would occur.

“Are you sure, honey?” I erupted.  “I mean, you know, you’ve never wanted to do it before?  Are you positive this is the year?”

My wife slowly said my name.  This was meant as a hint.  I totally picked up on it.  But that didn’t stop me.

“I mean, we don’t want your daycare to plan on you being there and then you back out on them, you know?”

My wife calmly asked me at what point I’d lost my mind.  “See,” I whispered to her, “it’s just that, you know, I’ve got Rogue One tickets that night.”  Her face told me she failed to comprehend the issue.  “Not just that night, but at that exact time,” I enlightened.

My four-year-old overheard me and said, and there is not an ounce of embellishment added to this, “I don’t want to do it if Daddy isn’t there.”

Well, shit.

So, guess what I’m doing right now?  That’s right, I’m stalking my favorite theater’s website, waiting for those weekend tickets to go on sale.  Yeah, I know opening weekend can’t compare to opening night, but I can’t be the guy who skips his daughter’s first Christmas recital to go see Star Wars.  I wish I could tell you that my heart is swelling with love and that I gave up those tickets without a moment’s hesitation.  I wish I could tell you that I can’t wait to sit through forty-five minutes of babies, toddlers, and four-year-olds singing Christmas songs.

The truth is, if I’m being honest, I’m really disappointed that I’m not seeing Rogue One on its opening night, especially considering that I scored tickets for it.  I know I’m supposed to play the good dad and say it’s not a sacrifice, that I’m happy to give up my own wants and desires for the sake of my children’s happiness.  I’m supposed to say that, but my hypocrisy would know no bounds if I did so.

In reality, I’ve got perspective enough to realize that the story of dad skipping his daughter’s first Christmas recital to see a movie would follow both of us for the rest of our lives.  It would be funny to most, but I can’t risk the impact that could have on our future relationship, even subconsciously.  And, let’s face it — I also don’t want to be judged.  So, yeah, it’s mostly shame and fear of being judged getting me to that Christmas recital.  Just let me know when and where I should appear to receive that “Father Of the Year” award.

I’ve also got perspective enough to realize that this article will serve as a confession of sorts to my daughter.  One day I’m sure I will play the martyr and bring up the fact that I gave up opening night Star Wars tickets to see her sing for five minutes.   I will play the guilt card and shamelessly use it to win every argument, every squabble, every petty disagreement.  And she can then refer to this blog post and politely tell me to stop being an asshole.  I also extend that invitation to my other daughter as well.  Print it off and keep it in your pocket, girls.

I love my daughters in ways I didn’t know existed.  They are my everything, and I will sacrifice anything and everything for them.  I strive to be that good dad, but it’s not always easy.  Actually, it’s rarely easy.  But you know what?  There will be other Star Wars opening nights.  I only get one first Christmas recital with my four-year-old.  I only get one year with her as a four-year-old.  She’ll be fourteen before I know it, and then twenty-four.  One day I will be gone and I won’t get any more time with her at all.  Whenever I feel selfish and small, I try to remember that fact: one day I won’t have any more time with my children.

So, yeah, I won’t see Rogue One on opening night.

Life is still pretty good.

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