My current writing goal is to write 500 words every day that are not related to work or this blog.

Most nights, the putting down words on paper part of writing is not hard. I can fill a page of a Word document with ease.

But on other nights, I feel like each word is a tiny paper cut I have to endure. I would much rather watch Monday Night Raw or DVR’d episodes of Bob’s Burgers, but my Streaks app tells me that I’ve reached my goal five days in a row, and there’s something very satisfying about starting toward a goal and seeing progress.

Of course, it’s just five days. A mere 2,500 words; 2,500 words that will never see the light of day.  At least not in their current form. But it’s tacit proof that I’m creating something. And something can be better than nothing.

Writing is one of those goals that sounds easy to meet when I’m driving home from work, or singing in the shower. But when I actually sit at my kitchen table, I draw a blank. So to make some progress on this goal is worthy of a self-indulgent blog post.

One of the driving forces is the need to have my voice heard. I imagine most other writers have this same desire. It’s why they put thought to paper. By extension, it’s why I write. Maybe if I continue at it, I can call myself a writer some day.

For the past five days, I’ve dragged my butt to the kitchen table when the kids went to bed, and wrote something that might be a part of something bigger, or, like I stated above, words destined for the Junk folder.

But they are words. Original. Strictly Brad Marley-ish. Words.

I’ve read that, sometimes, for some writers, just the act of getting 500 words down on paper is nothing more than a warm-up exercise. If that’s how they roll, more power to them. I don’t have that luxury. I just need to write.

Easier said than done.

Tomorrow is Father’s Day.

I plan to spend the morning with my dad, playing a relaxing round of golf with hundreds of other fathers who have been granted a free pass from mowing the lawn and cleaning out the gutters, or whatever household chores need to be done.

And if we are lucky, there will be beer.

Tomorrow will be my sixth Father’s Day, and I’ve been thinking about how I can be a good father to my kids as they get to that age where all-day school and drama with friends and girl problems become a reality in our house.

As a father, the greatest thing I can teach them (hopefully by example) is to treat others with respect and kindness.

On this blog, I’ve written a post that probably would have been more beneficial if it stayed in the Draft folder. To put it out on the Web was akin to saying it out loud to my friends. I never meant to offend anyone, but my urge to speak my mind got the better of me that day.

As it relates to my kids, I want them to know that while it’s okay to speak their mind, there’s a time and a place. Find a best friend who you can bitch to, then leave it there. Not everyone needs to know what you’re thinking at all times. A little mystery never hurt anyone.

As I write this, my daughters are sitting on the couch together, bonding over an app on our iPad. Even though I don’t want technology to dominate their lives, there’s really no way around the ways in which it will make their lives easier. It’s a new wrinkle in parenthood that my parents could only begin to understand. In a similar way to how e-mail separated my generation from my parent’s, there is still something to come that I will not understand, but my kids will adapt to quickly. And when that comes, I fear it will create a gulf of misunderstanding between us, but that’s another blog post entirely.

If you’re a dad, take some time tomorrow to enjoy yourself. Hopefully your wife will give you some much needed “You” time, because there’s something to be said about being alone with yourself for part of the day.

If you’re not a dad, wish another dad a happy Father’s Day. Tomorrow is our day. It comes around once a year, complete with hand-made cards and tiny mementos that were crafted by the hands of babes.

Tomorrow is our day. I raise a beer in your honor.

My real-life friend and colleague, Greg Melvin, and Twitter friend, Erica Moss, both saw Dave Matthews Band perform last week.

As a rapid fan of the band who is (probably) not attending a show this summer, I was pretty jealous. A summer isn’t a summer without seeing DMB live, but I digress.

While I was perusing the setlists from both shows to see just how jealous I should be, I got to thinking how a huge band like Dave Matthews Band could improve their relationship with their fans on the Internet.

Judging by the series of live releases the band has released over the years, they hold a treasure trove of live material that even the average fan would love to hear.

So why isn’t the DMB Twitter handle taking requests?

By using a site like SoundCloud, the people behind the band’s Twitter handle could dive into their expansive database of recordings and share songs with their fans upon request, while, perhaps, making someone’s day by playing a song they really want to hear.

When I was really (I mean, really) into the band, I traded live versions of shows with other fans across the country. My collection is by no means ridiculous, but in ten minutes, I uploaded a song from the July 24, 2005 show at Alpine Valley Music Theatre in Wisconsin.

Check it out:

If I can do it, there’s no reason the band can’t do it.

This could be one more act by a band that is know for their stellar relationship with their fans. I’m not calling them out by any means, but it would be pretty awesome.

Image courtesy of FromTheNorth‘s Flickr page.

For the past three years, I’ve allowed my youngest daughter to use the “P” word with reckless abandon.

When she makes up in the morning. After lunch. Before bed. In her sleep.

I had no problem with her use of this word because it was her everything; the one item in her life that brought her calm.

I’m talking about, of course, the word “pacifier.”

Just like her sister became attached to a stuffed toy named “Buggy” that has become a fifth member of our family and something she can’t sleep without, our littlest couldn’t go to bed without a pacifier to suck and a blanket to twirl around her fingers.

But her first trip to the dentist changed all that.

Unless we wanted to face exorbitant dental bills in the future, we had to make a decision. So we went with the financially sensible one: Remove the pacifier from the equation.

For three weeks before vacation, we told her each night that the four nights spent in Myrtle Beach would be her last with her pacifier. When we returned home, into the garbage can it would go.

But like any three-year-old with zero attention span, she was all, “Sure, whatever.” She still got her pacifier every night. Why wouldn’t she doubt us?

Vacation came and went. We got home after a 16-hour drive, put in her bed, and promised her that this was the final night with her crutch.

Sure. Whatever.

Ask any cigarette smoker the hardest way to quit, and they will always tell you it’s cold turkey.

Now imagine somebody taking away your cigarettes against your will, and under no circumstance will you get them back.

I imagine that’s how my daughter has felt these past five nights, like a drug addict who can’t get a fix, no matter what.

The first night was tough. Really tough. I think she thought we were joking around with her.

“No, really, a**holes, GIVE ME MY PACIFIER.”

But we made it through with minimal screaming. And aside from extended stays in her bed at night, things are (slightly) looking up, even if it tears us up inside to keep it away from her.

Maybe I’m looking too far into the transition. But since she lost her pacifier, she has seemed more grown-up. More mature. Like the pacifier in her mouth was holding back our baby from becoming a little girl.

My brother-in-law said not to worry. In a week she’ll forget about it. The little girl who once put her pacifier in her mouth upside down (to get a laugh out of us, I’m sure) will be a distant memory.

Maybe that’s what we are afraid of.

Someone joked to me last week that when I returned from vacation with my kids, then, and only then, would I be able to relax.

They were half-right.

After a successful road trip to Myrtle Beach, I can say, with confidence, that I was able to relax more than I thought I would be able to. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish for more down time.

Regardless, it was a fun trip that I wish could’ve been longer. But the lure of a four-day weekend at home was too hard to ignore.

As most things nowadays, this vacation was all about the kids.

Here are five things I learned about them.

1. They are incredibly adaptable. Thirty hours stuck in a car is sure to make even the most durable road warrior feel trapped, not to mention two girls under the age of six. But aside from the occasional (okay, frequent) requests for something to do, they did quite well. Better than I thought. Parent tip: Portable DVD players rule.

2. A dark room makes all the difference. The girls shared a bedroom that did not have any windows. So they had no idea if it was four in the morning, or four in the afternoon. Thus, they slept in each morning, allowing my wife and I to relax with our coffee on the balcony before the day began.

3. Bodily functions make everyone laugh. Let’s face it: After ten hours stuck in a car, everything is funny (right before it becomes annoying.) So it came as no surprise to us that just the sound of certain words (attached to every single other word) was hilarious to them. And maybe dad snickered, as well.

4. Attention spans are cut in half when water is nearby. We could see the pools and ocean from our balcony. Being the water bugs that my girls are, this turned them into tiny humans intent on being in said water. Nothing else mattered to them. Couple this with the fact that the restaurant we ate at the last night was surrounded by water, well, you can imagine how interested they were in the food.

5. It doesn’t take much to get them excited. This trip was the first time they saw the ocean. And even though my youngest was disappointed we didn’t see any sharks, the simple joy of collecting seashells was enough to keep them entertained for at least 30 minutes. We should all take note of the unbridled joy our kids experience when they try new things. Wouldn’t hurt for us to try that.

If this trip taught me anything, it’s that kids should be able to experience things outside of their backyard. Not only is it good for their upbringing, but it keeps things interesting.

The day-to-day slog can be just that. It’s important to break it up.

And if all else fails, a good toot will cheer everyone up.