I'm Right There In The Dork Hole With You

Hold on for a minute while I dork out on you. If you know Jason and I in real life, then you know what amazing dorks we really are. We take dorking out to a new level. The really good news in my life is that my husband and I have souls that are wrapped firmly around the same tune. Our insides move to the same beat. We are dorks of a feather.

While we wait with anxious hearts for the new Depeche Mode to come out, ignoring that it has leaked all over the world, we planted ourselves firmly in the Joy Division camp.

We have a nearly nightly viewing of 'Control', where we sit and point out all the intricacies that only dorks would know. We discuss and debate. We toss about theories and suggestions.

In essence we are total freaking dorks. We own our dorktitude.

Last night, I watched and I talked. I pointed out what I'd not noticed before and what I had just read about to Jason. And then I looked at him and said, "I know, shut up, right?" He smiled and said, "No baby, I'm right there in the hole with you."

And indeed he is.

And indeed our son is as well.

Yes, we are the dorks who named our son after the lead singer of a band. A man who was weak and took his own life. That man was a poet though. And the tragic part about being such an artist and having the beauty of pain flow through your whole being is that how long can you truly live like that and deal with that? How lonely must that be?

Our almost two-year old asks for this song every day, over and over again. He sings it and he dances along to it.

Why?

Because he's got fucking dorks for parents.

Let me know if it does a thing for you.

I'm entirely captivated.

UPDATED: Also? I'm using the word 'nards' as much as possible today. It's getting weird. No one will join me.