Narzack

Shut your face.  Bulletstorm is hands-down the best FPS in the last decade. 

Narzack

I hate and am ashamed that after fronting my favorite band, Christopher Hall formed a band for 15 year old Hot Topic idiots.  Really, dude?  You're 46 and emo-ing it up?  Stupid spiky hair covering one side of your face?  Black fingerless gloves?  Shirts with skulls?  Eyeliner?  It's rather pathetic.  You're too old for that nonsense.  Go back to making good music.

Embarrassing.  

Narzack

There are times when the hurt from losing my dad reaches such intensity that it becomes a physical pain. I can feel it in my chest, like a giant's hand pushing down on my ribcage, compressing my lungs and slowing my heart. The pain is always there, but sometimes it becomes agony.

Today, it hit because I happened to hear a Jars of Clay song on my iPod. It reminded me of the time that Dad and I drove down to D.C., and we happened to hear that particular song on the radio. Something occurred at that moment, and we both realized that we really liked that song.

That didn't happen very often, us liking the same song. In fact, I can really only think of that one instance. That moment has stuck with me for years now. It's not like I had a plethora of wonderful father/son teenage memories.

Let's face it, I was a bad kid. I was willful and stubborn and just plain damn rebellious. Dad and I butted heads daily. But, when we had good moments. . . man, were they good. Like the time he took me to an airshow to see the Blue Angels. Or the times we went to Cleveland to see the Indians play the Texas Rangers.

And, then of course, my most treasured memory. The one I've locked away, that I'm afraid to revisit, as if the act of remembering will dilute it. It's like a tiny vial of happiness and peace. I'm reluctant to use it because when it's gone, there will be nothing left. Just an empty glass where my Dad used to be.

As it is, I live with a litany of memories that I'll never make with him. I have 19 years of regret that can never be remedied.

I hope Heaven exists, if only so I can tell him I'm sorry.