For the win

Good morning!

So my son needs to eat every 2 hours or so, including nights. As you may imagine this is particularly difficult for Brandy, a breastfeeding mother (hopefully it is okay for me to share this information). I myself was not breastfed. She, however, was. (Again, I hope this information isn’t too personal o.O).

In any case, usually I get slapped around 4 a.m. and 5 a.m. to get up and feed Jacob a bottle because, you know, Brandy has been up every hour or so since 10 p.m. So…up I get.

Last night, however, was unlike any night before it so far.

Last night I played like a Daddy All-Star (if there is such a thing)…

I picked him up out of his bassinet at 5 a.m. while he was still asleep.

I brought him to his nursery across the hall from our bedroom and sat down.

There I fed him 2 ounces of milk, changed his diaper, and then brought him back…still asleep.

I returned to bed feeling like a champion…and then he started gurgling. To my horror, I realized I hadn’t burped him! Returning with him to the nursery, I proceeded to burp him (he burped). Afterward I re-returned him to his bassinet and made for bed. Jacob then slept until 7 a.m.

Re-cap: bottle, diaper, burp, up and down twice into the bassinet… still asleep.

This is likely more of an accomplishment for him, but I don’t care.

To me it felt like getting a Perfect in Street Fight 2 against M. Bison…

Like Ryu here.

And then turning around and getting a Flawless Victory in Mortal Kombat against Shang Tsung.

Which apparently doesn’t happen because I can’t find a picture of it…

Brandy got to sleep a little more, and I got to feel like a champion…

It was a good morning.

-Scritch out

Jacob and Beckett

This is Beckett…

[This is Beckett… Try not to stare]

He is a pan-dimensional, shape shifting party animal from Raxycon 5.

When I met Beckett, he was on the wrong side of a white garbage bag desperately trying to escape. Evidently, his former owner had grown tired of him and thrown him out like yesterday’s jam, which granted doesn’t really work as jam keeps for ages (as I told him). For my kindness, He insisted on transporting me home (against my firmest wishes) and did so in spite of my car being only a few feet away and my home being a solid ten-hour drive from my current location. Luckily for me, he had no idea where my home was and instead transported me several feet away before sadly admitting he had lost most of his powers during his last trip… escaping from his former owner whom he says was a man named Mr. Williams and lived in Tennessee…or something… He thinks.

In despair he fell to the ground and wept great big tears, which turned to jellybeans. I was really excited about the jellybeans until I realized they were saline flavor, which to be fair, made perfect sense. Without a home, he feared he would grow young and die in the streets. I didn’t quite understand the “grow young” statement, but the die in the streets thing I simply couldn’t let happen. Therefore, I took him in. When he met my wife (who was understandably off put by the creature’s appearance) he was delighted to discover we were expecting. He insisted that he was a delightful friend to children and had long looked for a perfect friend with which to grow young with (again…no clue what he was talking about).

Anyway, I let him hang around until Jacob’s birth and now that Jake is here, Beckett seems quite excited… He’s been reading Calvin and Hobbes recently, trying to get a feel on the whole Child/Stuffed Animal relationship thing. With the last of his powers, which took a great deal of concentration, he transformed himself tonight into a stuffed animal (although he still communicates telepathically with me… an ability I seriously doubt anyone else will have). He looks forward to the day that Jake is old enough to truly appreciate what it means to have a stuffed friend. Oh and he wanted me to tell you that Beckett isn’t his real name, but for copyright issues he can’t divulge it… He offers his sincerest apologies.

– scritch (and Beckett) out

Surprised by Grief

Happy Sunday, reader.

I failed miserably last week in my attempt to blog weekly. It happens. I’m back in the saddle now though.

As I write this, I’m half-laying in my bed staring at my ten-day-old son, Jacob Reuel. Man, is he beautiful. He was born on February 13th, 2014 (My half Birthday) . He was 8 lbs 4 oz and 21 inches long. Brandy got through all natural without an epidural…like a boss.

[Here he is…opening his eyes for the first time]

Seeing my son born was the most beautiful moment of my life. The instant he was out of the womb, I began weeping like a small child. I had fallen for him in an instant. Watching my wife, covered in sweat and water from the washcloth on her forehead, holding my son was indescribable. It was the happiest moment of my life.

One hour later, I received a call from my  father telling me my Grandma had hours to live…

It was the saddest moment of my life…

Eclipsed only by the next day when I had to tell her Good-bye over the phone.

I’m a father…filled with joy…surprised by grief.

The last ten days since the birth of my son have been strange. The conflicting emotions come and go. It was like in order to survive I had to full commit to wherever I was at the time, but take moments to check in with the other side. When I was with Brandy, Jake, and my in-laws, I had to be there full of joy. When I was on the phone with my family in Pennsylvania, however, I had to be there full of pain.

Her funeral was on Feb, 18th. I drove up alone on Tuesday and came back home on Wednesday with my brother. I spoke at her funeral. I say “spoke” loosely. What I really did was stand up before fifty of my friends and family, and vomit emotions. It wasn’t glamorous, but it’s what she would’ve wanted.

I was able to send her a video of Jake before she lost consciousness for the last time. She said he was beautiful.
I don’t disagree… He is.

We visited her house before the service. The entire time I was there I couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. I kept expecting that something to come around the corner or out of the bathroom or wake up looking confused on the couch. She would never do any of these things again of course…because she was laying in a coffin a few miles down the road. Looking absolutely at peace.

I know it was her time and I know where she is, but God do I miss her. It doesn’t make it any easier knowing that if she was still alive I wouldn’t call her. I never did. I just took it for granted she’d always be there. Like a fool.

She was a beautiful woman, and was the first person I  thought of when Jake was born. I couldn’t help but see the resemblance. Particularly in the eyes.

[Lovely, lovely, lovely]

What she wanted more than anything was to be a good mother…

She was…and she was an even better Grandma in my humble opinion.

I’m sure there will be more on this later… I’ve had a very emotional ten days.

Plus, I promised her I’d think about her every day until I saw her again…

That’s a promise I intend to keep.

– scritch out

What to say when you have nothing to say…

Nothing.

So I’ve been thinking about thinking and if I should blog today. This has been a consistent problem with me and blogging. I want to be so damn profound every day. What I’ve realized is I can’t always be profound. Maybe I’m never profound. I don’t know. I like to write things that make me look deep, but this blog isn’t about being deep. It’s about expressing my thoughts, which right now happen to be about thinking…

[Meta, I know.] 

Fact: It’s better to keep your mouth shut and seem wise than to open your mouth and be proven a fool.

This is a saying, which has served me fairly well over the last seven years.
Moral of the story: Keep your mouth shut until you have something to say.

I can’t tell you how many times (especially in Bible school) I’ve face-palmed because someone has said something of such profound stupidity, I had no other option. I’ve even been that guy. We can’t all be Ron Swanson.
Speaking of generally tough men…
My father once told me, “John, a dangerous man is a fool who thinks he is wise.”

Realistically, he probably didn’t call me John… It’s was probably Roy (my middle name is LeRoy named for my father who was named for his grandfather). However, the point still stands… Don’t open your mouth until you have something to say, and if you don’t have anything constructive to say… consider not talking.

I know this kind of flies in the face of one of my previous posts, so let me just throw this out there. THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH EMOTIONAL PROBLEMS. If you’re having internal issues tearing you apart then yes, for the love of all that is decent and holy, talk to someone.

However…

If you’re trying too hard to think of something to say, it probably means you have nothing to say… Nod your head and take a sip of your bourbon. On a related note: It helps if you have a mustache and talk in a deep voice saying things like, “Jack, you don’t hold with this do you? You’re a great respecter of women.”

Just saying.

– scritch out

Bad thoughts and how to deal

Disclaimer: I by no means wish to make light of this very serious topic. My sympathies to everyone who has lost someone as a result of suicide.

I think about killing myself… a lot.

I should probably clarify…

I have an overactive imagination, which tends to shift into overdrive whenever I can’t sleep. Consequently, I have a tendency to spiral out of control until I’m incredibly depressed. For years, I was plagued by this almost uncontrollable imagination. I would lay there at night (or during the day for nap time) and let my mind wander. Once it wanders, however, I struggle to reel it back in… like a catfish (which is one fish that has always alluded me).

[I see you alludin’ me]

Last night was a particularly difficult night for me. Normally, having struggled with this for years, I’m able to pull back and change direction, but last night… it was rough.
My wife, Brandy, is pregnant… very pregnant… due any day now pregnant… And she desperately wants this over with, so needless to say, going into labor is a frequent topic. Well last night, I began to think about the worst. What would I do if anything happened to her?

It was bad.

Details came into mind of how I would deal with things. Specifically, I didn’t think I could… I imagined killing myself.

After about twenty minutes of this, I couldn’t take it anymore. I resolved that if, God forbid, anything happened, I would mourn but learn to raise my child. This helped. I started to rest.

But then, I wondered what I would do if anything happened to both Brandy AND Jacob…

Wasn’t able to handle that as well.

After forty-five more minutes or so, I woke up Brandy by rubbing my face against her arm like a scared kitten. I don’t remember whether I told her what was happening to me or not, but knowing she was there made all of the difference. I chilled out. Prayed a bit. Went to sleep.

Sometimes, my overactive imagination is a good thing. I can’t tell you how many times I’e thought of great plot details while laying awake in bed. 25% of The Curse of the Creator was born at night. Hell, this blog was born at night.

However, My mind is a double-edged sword.

How do I deal with it? I talk. I open up about my fears and insecurities with the one person I know understands me better than anyone else. Better than I understand myself. My wife. The most wonderful (and frustrating) woman in the world. If you take anything away from this, I want you to know that if you struggle with an overactive imagination, fears of the future, or negative to suicidal thoughts… you are not alone. I know not everyone has the luxury of having a Brandy like I do, but you can find someone to talk to. Even if it’s a priest in a random church.

Have Bad Thoughts? Talk about it.

Speaking of thoughts – I’m worried I’m going to run out of them… Therefore, I leave you now.

– Scritch out

[Me, Brandy, Jacob (en utero) circa Nov. 2013]

Some Old Thoughts on Creation

I posted this a few years ago on an old blog. I don’t quite remember everything I said, so judge me accordingly… I’m 3 years older and wiser now, I guess.

With tonight’s Ham vs. Nye debate, I thought it might be fitting to throw this up here.

Enjoy…or don’t.

Beginning.

“In the beginning, God created the Heavens and the Earth.”

Genesis 1:1

Every child raised in a Christian home can recite the verse from memory at the drop of a hat. Every child is informed of the existence of an omnipotent God who designed the universe before its existence and created it from nothing. They are told the creation account. How this God also performed this feat in only seven days, as if it were some cosmic feat of strength performed by an omniscient magician.

The Creation account teaches us our role in the universe. It shows the majesty of God without ever giving insight into the minuet details not explained in the Bible. Would it diminish the God of the universe at all, if perhaps the creation account were not a literal telling of how the universe was created? Are theories like evolution really so intimidating that instead of embracing science, we reject it like a leper?

Having been raised in an Assembly of God church, I was raised on the Seven Day Creation account. I was told that God formed Adam from the dust of the Earth and breathed life into Him. When a suitable helper was not found in Creation, God, in his infinite wisdom, removed from Adam a rib and created Eve. Adam and Eve were given to one another in every way. They were perfectly suited for one another down to their very DNA.

If this God who had the insight enough to create his homo sapiens with the ability to reproduce, could he not also have the insight to guild a single cell across a millennia in order to eventually form the man he would name Adam? If God is outside of reality and time and if reality and time are simply agents that God has created for his creations, could he not spend mere seconds guiding his creation for millions of years?

There is, of course, the problem with the Genesis account. The Creation account is a beautiful description of the creation of the universe for the audience that was receiving it. Even today, we can look to the book of Genesis for a fantastic depiction of the God of the universe, but it should not necessarily be taken literally by modern Christians. With science constantly progressing and the potential for singularity to be but a few decades away, it is now more than ever necessary for Christians to understand the ways of the universe.

The universe is expanding. Every day, scientists unlock new ideas and facts about Creation of which our forefathers could have only dreamed. We will be faced with varying degrees of intensity from science in retaliation to our beliefs. It is not our worldview that should be shaken by these new revelations.

God gave this universe to his creation with the intent of exploring it. Through his creation, we see an insight into the mind of God Himself. We see the detail of the universe and the amount of time that it would take to orchestrate such majesty is incomprehensible to the human mind. We can see the moving of the planets and the shifting of molecules. God has created everything from the inconceivably large to the infinitesimally small.

This God, this architect of Creation could have created the world in seven days just like the book of Genesis tells us. He could have created the world so that it would appear as if it were billions of years old although that would make God a deceiver and that does not fit with our current paradigm. God could have created the world six thousand years ago and perhaps our assumptions and conclusions about the life of carbon are incorrect. It is also possible, however, that God being outside of space and time and completely unaffected by it, created the universe billions of years ago and watched as every single atom that he set in motion merged and converged until we have an early form of the universe we now experience.

If this were correct, then God would have to guide and nurture every single aspect of his creation. He would have to be the ultimate micromanager. Would not a God who nurtured every single cell of his human creations seem more loving and more infinitely patient than a God who simply threw everything into existence?

The Creation account shows us the beauty and captures the essence of the majesty of the Creator of the Universe, but the God of the Universe is so much more complicated and delicately constructive than any book or any story could ever possibly conceive. No author could ever capture the true beauty of a God sitting over his creation nurturing it until it has reached its full potential. The image is like that of a man sitting over a puzzle box with a pair of tweezers. He delicately moves every single piece into it’s perfect location until the beauty and complexity of the puzzle is more than breathtaking to behold and is impossible to unravel.

Stoic rage

“There are some moments in life, which can only be adequately expressed through stoic rage and silent heartbreak.”

I said that last night after some particularly sad news. This was the second time I had been pushed to the point of quiet rage in as many weeks.

I have a nasty habit of not expressing my feelings… not unlike thousands of other men in this world. A few months ago, a friend pointed out that this characteristic is particularly notable in Polish folk… Being about 1/4 Polish, I guess that includes me.

When faced with untoward emotions, I press them down like society has always told me to. I grew up on the John Wayne man archetype, which instructed men to keep a clenched jaw and a stiff upper lip. I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing to be stoic either. God knows, we have a plethora of whiny, bitchy men in this world. I do, however, think it can quickly turn unhealthy when bitterness and resentment begins to take root.

Let’s take the situation two weeks ago for example. I had a certain expectation and then I received news my expectation was not going to be met. Furthermore, it wasn’t a particularly good idea for my expectation to go unmet. Rage induced. I jumped, in a matter of moments, straight from angry ranting to silent rage. My mind-vice immediately clamped down on the feelings and my jaw clenched. This was real life. This wasn’t fantasy. I was caught in a land-slide… No escape from reality. I opened my eyes, looked up to the sky and wait… Never mind.

The point is this, Alan. I suppressed my growing feelings of absolute rage and I let them sink deep within me until it felt like my entire house was full of smoke. I imagine it was hard for my wife to be around me and who knows what my en utero son thought (probably something along the lines of “ubsudgia agsidta sidnasd” because fetuses don’t understand language yet.” Eventually, I had to open my mouth and talk things out and release the hold my mind-vice had own my rage.

Why?

Because if I didn’t it would only serve to damage my relationship with the people around me. The thought behind emotional suppression is you won’t affect others. It only will hurt you and everything will be okay. However, the people closest to you know your vibes. They know when you ache and the way you treat them is directly related to your inner life.

A man is what he chooses to be: in this moment. MAN: My Answer Now.

How I respond to my immediate situation defines who I am. It isn’t the man I become when faced with crisis. I’m not the man I am when under pressure. I am not the man I am when I’m alone or when I am in bed with my wife. I am the man I am in the moment and I can’t be anyone or anything else.

You win the battle of the moment or you lose.

I am the man of the moment. Not fluctuating. Consistent from moment to moment.

God empowered, yes. I don’t think I can be the man of the moment without divine aid. However, I am the man I choose to be in the now, defined by how I respond to the moment I am in.

Hope you’re enjoying your day.

-Scritch out.

Jacob Reuel Scritchfield

Howdy!

My name is John Scritchfield Jr. I am 24 1/2 years old, a Christian, a husband of 2 1/2 years, a MFA Acting student at Regent University, a fledgling novelist, An Internship Coordinator at the aforementioned school, and a soon to be father. My son, Jacob (for whom this post is titled) is expected to be here any day now… Any minute really… As I write this my wife my begin contracting, which would be great because that would get me out of Shakespeare and a consequent monologue presentation I feel nervous about… but I digress. As you may be thinking, “Oh em gee, you’re twenty-four and going to be a father AND you married at twenty-one (or two)? Are you, like, for serious?” Perhaps, you are not thinking this…and to be honest… I hope you aren’t. Because if you are, you’re likely a twelve year old girl, which, no offense, isn’t my targeted demographic. o.O

My hope is to appeal to individuals my age. I’ve always wanted to write a blog and update it weekly with thoughts about stuff, but never thought my life was interesting enough. I couldn’t write about video games, or theology, or books like some of my friends who are so perfectly equipped. Then as I lay awake at 2 a.m. this morning, it struck me. I could write about my journey into fatherhood. Furthermore, I could chronicle my attempt to juggle fatherhood with husbandhood (is this a word?), acting, master classes, work, writing, and whatever else it is I do. That might be worthwhile, right? I then went on to think up an idea for a non-profit, which I hope to get around to eventually. We’ll see.

Last night we closed what will be the last show I will be a part of before Jake is born. Also, it will be the last show I act in before the final year of my MFA. Strange. I played four characters in Shadowlands. It was a considerable amount of work for the 10 lines or so I had, and I loved almost every minute of it.

Others things to come. Like my son.

Adios for now.

– Scritch out.