Here Goes Nothing

Over the years I’ve been encouraged to write. Anyone that really knows me well has suggested it. I have a wide array of interesting stories and experiences, like everyone else,  but perhaps people may enjoy them. Or possibly people sense that my mind is constantly spinning, and it would be in everyone’s best interest to put it to text, thus reducing the blah blah blah they need to hear. After all, it’s much easier to close a webpage than to sit through one of my scattered and rambling diatribes.

First, a bit about myself. I’m nearly 44. I have 2 children who I adore. I will likely speak about them a lot. I was married once,  for over a decade, have fallen in and out of love since. For the most part I struggle to connect with people on an intimate level. I’m hopeless in a relationship to date, but like everyone else I want to be loved. The tricky part is allowing it to happen or believing it to be true once it does. More on this in the blogs to come I’m sure,
but for everyone’s sake let’s hope not.
My father was a family physician, and I’m almost certain I inherited his mania but not his intelligence. My Mother passed away when I was 20. I have 4 brothers and 4 sisters. One sister died at birth, but I will always think of her as my little sister. There is no shortage of drama in my family, but I’m lucky to be a member of the Cottier clan.

I am recently out of a long term relationship. 6 years. I will write to help me heal from that, and hopefully I’ll make a few people laugh and make some friends along the way.

My blog will be very diverse, I highly doubt I could ever keep to a theme, but hopefully they will be interesting and I can get some enjoyment from it.

For today, I’m going to recount a story about my daughter Brooklyn. We were playing in the park last night, tossing a volleyball around and passing it to one another. If we missed, we’d run go get it. As I threw the ball to Brook, she missed it. It subsequently rolled down the hill. As she lazily took a few strides towards it I could tell she was non commitall about actually retrieving the ball.

“Hurry up” I yelled. This stopped her in her tracks, as if the prompt to move quicker was more than she could bear, forcing her to quit. Surprising since she was about 15 feet from the ball.

“Na” she yelled. “It was only 4 bucks we will get another one.”

My first thought was this. Those poor millenials running around saving the world, recycling, eating and doing all the “right” things. Gen Z is coming behind you and they will be messing it all up. I call it the Walmart effect. When it’s cheaper to buy a new coffeemaker, tv or what have you, than to buy a replacement part to fix said item, we have a problem. Our landfills are filled with valuable things. But what you will not see is a pink 4 dollar volleyball. That’s right, after yells from the top of the hill about privilege and entitlement Brook soldiered on for 15 more feet and heroically retrieved the ball. I damn near had tears in my eyes.

If anyone read this far, thank you. More to come. I’ll try to do one weekly.

T