Blogizdat

9/11

2009-09-12T04:45:04Z

It's the 8th anniversary of the attack on the United States by Osama Bin Ladin's Jihadistas, and it's strange how the world has changed, and yet how much remains the same.

I think the biggest change has been in how the US views itself. This was the first time we've been attacked on the continent since forever, and certainly in Manhatten, the heart of the financial district and the symbol of New York, the World Trade Center. And while there have been other catastrophes that have shattered the confidence of the country, this was something unprecedented, took us into a War On Terror that we didn't want to fight.

One thing: I was off work that day, and I will never forget watching TV for hours and hours, and for the first hour or so they showed the hundred+ jumpers falling, falling, falling, but then all of a sudden there was no more footage of that on the TV, none at all, and it was years before any news program would show that, and I must say as gruesome as it was, I was upset that it was taken off the air, as I think we shouldn't forget what happened in its entirety like that, and for one, I will always remember them.

And to this day, if I'm walking downtown Minneapolis on my lunch hour and a plane goes by overhead at anything less that 35K feet, I cringe and look around for somewhere to hide. Yes, it's silly, but then again, my fear is real.

Anyway, to those who died that day, and to all those millions of us who live on, but still carry scars, I am observing a moment of silence, and for those who have been willing to enlist in the military to protect us from those who would try to destroy us, I salute you all, and thank you for your service.

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Just Rambling

2009-09-10T04:33:48Z

I drove to the cemetery today and went for a long walk.

My foot was hurting like hell, but then again, I was skating pretty close to the edge of The Dark Place, and I really needed to walk.

And as I walked the quiet lanes in cool morning air, past all the tombstones, small and large, ornate and plain, old and very new, I kept thinking how every single person I know has an appointment with the undertaker - of course, that's that problem, innit, cause no one knows when that appointment is - and how I will be there, soon enough, myself, and all my petty worries and anxieties and depressions will suddenly not matter, it will all be over.

Look, I'm not trying to be melodramatic, or morbid, but I *am* serious, that's where we all end up, along with all the problems that we have, or that we think we have, and I didn't feel any better, and it didn't keep me from biting my lip, nor keep my eyes from welling up, but it did give me a bit of perspective, I guess.

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The other thing that kept coming to mind was how the 7th was my little sister's birthday, the one who died, and how she'd have been fifty this year, but in my mind she will always be freeze-dried at six and a half, the very same age my daughter is now, and when I look at LK, and think about anything happening to her, I just get full of anxiety and sadness, and I know it's stupid, cause I can't change the past, but I can change the future, but at the same time, the past affects how I even see the future, and walking thru cemeteries has a way of bringing these thoughts to mind.
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Anyway, I'm feeling really out of it today, oh h*ll, who am I kidding, I'm out of it a lot today, but mostly sad cause, well, I'll just post that elsewhere.
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09-09-09

That's the date, and it'll never happen again in my lifetime, like so much else. Meh
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Connectedness

2009-08-28T21:15:26Z

* Today is Friday.
* I'm off work today.
* It's the first day of a Daddy Duty Weekend.
* I need to fill the bird feeder in the walnut tree sometimes this weekend.
* The tree is huge, more than thirty feet tall.
* My left foot really hurts.
* My sinuses also hurt.

* My *ss hurts, too.
* I wonder if two really is the loneliest number since the number one.
* I never liked Wonder Woman.
* I did like Lynda Carter.
* My sister Linda is in town from out east.
* I wanted to go out of town with the girls today to Crystal Cave, in Wisconsin.
* The girls wanted to watch a movie, instead.
* I watched Hell's Kitchen on my computer.
* I chatted on the computer with a friend from Brazil.
* I wrote on the computer some more of a story I've been working on.
* I think I write too much, sometimes.
* I like writing on my Macbook more than any other format.
* I need to reformat a couple of Hard Drives and back up my notebooks.
* I'm not sure what the deal is about the movie 'The Notebook,' but I have it and will watch.
* If I find a good deal on a Digital SLR Camera I might buy one.
* I already have four digital cameras.
* I didn't get a digital converter box because we already have cable tv updstairs and down.
* I'm feeling kind of down today.
* It's funny how I can remember so few of the kind things people do, but remember feeling the offenses.
* Seinfeld was funny, Roseanne was not funny.
* It's amazing how many actors who later became famous appeared on Seinfeld.
* I think being an actor would be hard for having to audition, and be rejected so much.
* I hate rejection.
* Hate is a useful emotion only if it spurs someone to make changes.
* Change isn't always fair, and I don't cope well with it.
* The State Fair started today.

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Random Musings

2009-08-20T12:10:17Z

* It's early, the house is quiet and I'm getting ready for work.
* I've been working for thirty years, now, actually, nearly thirty-five, if you count part-time work during college.
* I will qualify for a full pension in another six years.
* There's no way in h*ll I'll be able to afford to retire then.
* I was moved to a different location at work yesterday, spent a lot of time this week cleaning my cubicle and packing things up.
* I feel really tired right now.
* I wonder if I'm anemic - or something worse.
* I always imagine the worst.

* Somehow I feel like I deserve it when things go wrong.
* Conversely, I get really angsty when things go right, like there's that Stark Fist of Removal that the Subgeniuses go on about, just right there, to punish me for enjoying things.
* I don't quite understand that, cause it's a stupid way to live.
* The older I get the more I'm reminded of how short this life really is.
* My life is way-more than half over.
* That Flaming Lips song lyric still gets me, every time: 'Do you realize that everyone you know someday will die?'
* My kitty is likely to die sooner than I will.
* He's fourteen years old.
* I feel a sense of melancholy just thinking about it.
* We had to have his brother put to sleep four years ago, and I think he missed his sibling-cat as much as I did, at the time.
* I waste alot of time.
* It's just about State Fair Time again.
* This will be the thirty-fifth year in a row I've attended the State Fair, without fail.
* It's going to be harder this year, because my feet are giving me trouble.
* I don't know why I enjoy going so much, but I always go more than once.
* I suppose part of it is the chance to get together with friends, and part of it is to hang out with my kids.
* But mostly it's become a ritual for me, I think, and rituals are important.
* I have a hard time sorting out in my head what's important.
* I let some things overwhelm me, and then just ignore alot of important stuff.
* I suppose I'm not that different from many, but I feel sometimes like I'm the only one who gets that way.
* Most of us - yes, me, too - like to imagine we act rationally, but we are a mess of contractions, lies and obfuscation.
* I'm tired of the lies told by politicians.
* Then again, they are merely telling us what they think we want to hear, and we are a fickle electorate, swept about by the chemicals in our brains.
* I am surprised that someone who was as formidable a candidate as was the now-POTUS BHO is so ineffective as a leader.
* I think I would be a terrible leader.
* It's important to be sure of one's self, and I know I would second-guess every thing I did.
* I second-guess everything now.
* I feel kind of lonely and confused now.
* It's time to eat some breakfast now.
* My cat is purring now.
* It's cloudy outside now.
* I wish I had more time to write now.
* The future is now.
* The future isn't what it used to be.
* Now.

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Random Stuff

2009-08-09T04:16:28Z

It's been hot and humid today.
It hasn't been that hot for most of the summer.
The storms and tornadoes tonight wasn't unexpected.
I actually got out walking for a half hour this afternoon, and it was horrid-muggy.
My foot has been hurting pretty bad today.
I'm still recovering from the bronchitis that came on me last week.
Went out to the Old Country Buffet for breakfast with the family today.
I'm always amazed how heavy the patrons are at OCB.
I'm also amazed at the amount they eat.

Alot of people I know use Facebook and Twitter exclusively to communicate these days.
Most people I know can't write well anymore.
I'm not much better, cause I haven't composed and/or mailed a written letter to anyone in years.
I miss letter-writing, and I miss email-writing.
I watched 'Jackass The Movie' this past week, and am a bit embarrassed to admit I laughed.
I've been watching the DVD set of Alias this past week or two.
Jennifer Garner is lovely to look at, but the show just wasn't that well-written.
I'm trying to decide if I'm going to watch the next four seasons.
I've also been watching the Torchwood Mini-Series that came out in July, and it appears that this will be the last Torchwood.
Torchwood is *very* well-written.
It's hard to believe that there weren't really any home computers when I started college.
I have three laptops, and use the MacBook the most.
I'm feeling kind of down right now, for a bunch of reasons, one of which is that my 35-year college reunion is this year.
I'm also feeling down for realizing that I have achieved my potential in life, and it'a not all that.
I need a new(er) car, and we already bought one for Mrs. Muzzy after hers got totaled earlier this year, so the money is kind of tight.
I do feel grateful to have a job.
I am probably OCD.
I am pretty sure I have ADD, too.
No one, employers and friends or even me, wants to hear such things used as excuses.
I think I take the net way too seriously.
I've been spending alot of time of Facebook.
I don't think all that much of Facebook, or pretty much any of the social-networking services.
I guess I'm not that social offline, either.
I thought I'd outgrow feeling shy and socially inept, but I never have.
I have never really gotten used to the fact that people really do come and go, and mostly go.
I do that, too.

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Just Blathering

2009-07-29T19:55:42Z

Woke up today feeling wretched, with a blistering-red sore throat, some kind of bronchial infection, and that general achiness and malaise that comes with it all.

I hate this.

Thing is, I'm on Daddy-Duty today *and* tomorrow, AE is off at camp all week, and it's just me and LK at home, and honest, when she's in a good mood - and not fighting with her beloved older sister - there are few people in all human history more delightful and sweet than LK.

I'd just hoped to take her On Adventures, but that's not going to happen today, and tomorrow it's supposedly going to be raining like a cow pissing on a flat rock all day, so unless we do something entirely indoorsy, that's out, too.

But that's the thing, it's flipping suppertime, and it's not been terribly hot - we just had the first July in decades without a 90+ degree day, so where's yer global warming, Al, huh? - and I'd just like to get outdoors, but then again, my foot has been plaguing me so that I've often had to rotate between hiking and icing.

Speaking of my foot, I'm kind of ready to just chop it off and go with a prosthesis.

I know, I know, it's not good to even joke like that, but I really *am* sick of being in constant pain. No one wants to hear about it - hell, on a given day *I* don't want to hear about it - and I'm sure even my docs get tired of me coming in with various sundry complaints that they cannot pinpoint.

(Well, they did manage to get my hip under control with a cortisone shot a couple of years ago, and it cleared up some problems with my wrist, too, so maybe I need to go in and have them do that again.)

Anyway, I'm sick tired of feeling sick and tired.

Meh

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Was just informed by 6 year-old LK that 'BRB' means 'Be Right Back,' which she apparently learned in Webkinz World.

Gaahhh!
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We Americans love to love our archaic system of weights and measures, with its 12 inches to a foot, and 3 feet to a yard, 8 ounces to a pint, and 128 of them to the gallon.

WTH?

Metric is so much simpler, and even in the areas of life that are partially metric, like the health care field, where injections are delivered in cubic centimeters, patients are still weighed in ounces and pounds (16 of the former in the latter, BTW.)

Look, on alot of things I couldn't care less what the rest of the world does.

I mean, the Frenchies wash their *sses after doing their merde, and it's no concern of mine, but on the matter of weights and measures there is no reason we couldn't get on the Cluetrain with this one.

Indeed, if the Obamessiah wants to play out his scary control-freak fixation, maybe this is a project he could take on that would actually help bring this country something good and decent, instead of the wreck and ruin he's meting out.

Anyway, maybe what we need is a protest movement: take it to the streets, brothers and sisters! Right on, dig it, power to the metric!:

'What to we want?'

'METRIC!'

'When do we want it?'

'NOW!'
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I've enjoyed what I've seen of the new season of 'Hell's Kitchen,' so far. Gordan Ramsay is every bit the potty-mouth tyrant he's always been, and it's good to see that bringing Robert Hesse back from last season hasn't been just for laughs.

Actually, I like Robert, but I don't think he can win, and my pick of the ladies is Ariel Contreras, and of the men, Kevin Cottle, if he can come back from injuries, or Van Hurd, if he can tone down the loudness just a wee bit.

Now, if I could just track down a copy of show as it is broadcast in most countries, with all the profanity intact, might be even more watchable.
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I find it interesting how we - and by that I mean me *and*, yes, you - seem to have an in-bred genetic predisposition to label others, and to then hold them esteem or contempt based on those labels.

It's a kind of tribal thing, methinks, and probably serves some Darwinian function in increasing our chances of survival by associating ourselves with like-minded others, and after all, those people who don't agree with us, see things our way, look/smell/talk/think like we do, well, they are stupid, aren't they, or at least unfortunate to have not been born with the advantages we were, and if slapping a label on them makes it easier to cope, we do it.

And see, I try to be fair, and admit - to myself, at least - my prejudices and foibles, but I still want to play with the Kewl Kids, or rather, I want them to want me to play with them, cause then I have the ability to turn them down, which somehow empowers me.

Thing is, I'm more-that-a-bit of a misanthrope, and to paraphraze Groucho Marx, I'm not sure I'd want to belong to any club that might have the likes of me as a member.

Just keepin' it real, y'all.
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I just listened to something that is either very clever and sweet, or the most cringe-worthy thing I've heard in years, well, here's the product description, from Amazon.com:

"Have bedtime tantrums driven you stone cold crazy? Another sleepless night bites the dust with a spin of these blanket-soft versions of Queen's operatic rock anthems. The familiar melodies of your favorite songs will rock you (and your little one) to a peaceful night's slumber."

This is, it sounds intriguing, in principle, but in reality, it's just kind of watered-down and bleh, no lyrics, with lots of tinkling bells and chirping birds thrown in the mix.

I know, the kiddies probably wouldn't care, but see, in my never-to-be-humble opinion, even pre-toddlers aren't too young to be exposed to the original classics, be it from Beethoven or Beach Boys or Beastie Boys - okay, maybe not the Beasties - but they don't need watered down versions of this stuff.

Hah!

Speaking of which, I still remember thrilling to the sight of my eldest pogo-ing unprovoked to the sound of The Ramones 'Blitzkrieg Bop' at the tender age of three, warmed the cockles of Dear Old Dad's heart. 'Hey, ho, let's go!'

Then again, maybe not.

I mean, I agree that modern culture puts alot of pressure on young women who already have body image issues, and tries to get them to conform to impossibly-thin standards of beauty, but on the other hand, do you really want your nine year-old daughter going around singing 'Fat Bottomed Girls, you make the rocking world go round?'

Well, do you?

I'm just asking.
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Pleased To Meet Me

2009-07-28T03:34:00Z

Hair Color: dark red with a touch of gray

Eye Color: kind of blue-green

Height: about two meters

Profession: case worker

Relationship Status: married

Religious Views: christian

What's Your Sign?: stop

Any Siblings?: yes

Shoe size: 14 (us)

Where were you born?: new jersey

Innie or Outie: wth? innie!

Righty or Lefty?: righty

Any pets?: cat

What month were you born in?: june

Favorite Color: blue

Favorite Car: mercedes

Favorite Movie: casablanca

Favorite Hobby: blogging

Favorite Song/Singer: because - the beatles

Favorite Book/Author: a mencken chrestomathy - hl mencken

Favorite School Subject: history

Favorite Vacation Destination: zion

Favorite Food: sweet cherries

Favorite Restaurant: fogo de chão

Favorite Animal: tiger

Favorite Store: microcenter

Favorite Celebrity: jessica alba

Favorite Childhood Friend: elizabeth

Favorite Childhood Memory: christmas lights

Favorite Baby Name: emily

Favorite Possession: macbook

Mall Store: apple store

Favorite Fast Food Restaurant: mcdonalds

Comedian: craig ferguson

Sandlot or Little Rascals: little rascals

Favorite Holiday: fourth of july

Favorite Number: 68

Favorite Hard Candy: peppermint candy canes

Favorite Month: june

Favorite Flower: lilacs

Favorite Ice Cream: vanilla hagendaz

Favorite Smell: roses

Favorite Drink: fuzzy navel

Favorite Cartoon Character: homer simpson

Favourite kind of pants: jeans

Big Mac or Whopper: big mac

Coke or Pepsi: pepsi

Beer or Wine: wine

Coffee or Tea: tea

Apple Juice or O.J.: oj

Facebook or MySpace: fb

Summer or Winter: summer

Windows or Mac: mac

Cats or Dogs: cat

Boxers or Briefs: briefs

Rain or Shine: rain

Chips or Popcorn: chips

Salty or Sweet: salty

Plane or Boat: plane

Morning or Night: night

Movie or Play: movie

Walk or Drive: walk

Money or Love: money

Breakfast or Dinner: breakfast

Forgiveness or Revenge: forgiveness

Paint or Wallpaper: paint

House or Apartment: house

Truth or Dare: truth

Contacts or Glasses: glasses

Root beer or Dr. Pepper: root beer

Mud or Jell-O wrestling: jello

Skiing or Boarding: boarding

Silver or Gold: silver

Diamond or pearl: pearl

Sunset or Sunrise: sunset

Phone or in person: phone

Oldest, middle, youngest or only child: oldest

Indoor or Outdoor: indoor

Have Any Pets: one

Have Any Children: two

Smoke: no

Drink: yes

Exercise: yes

Spend Your Life On Facebook: no

Play On A Sports Team: no

Belong To Any Organizations: no

Love Your Job: no

Like To Cook: no

Play An Instrument: yes, keyboards and guitar

Sing: yes

Dance: no

Speak Multiple Languages: yes, english, portuguese and spanish

Ice Skate: no

Swim: yes

Paint: no

Write: yes

Ski: no

Juggle: no

Do you wish you lived somewhere else?: sometimes

Do you like roller coasters?: no

Enjoy spending time with your Mother?: um, she's deceased

Ever think about the price of gasoline?: sure

Sleep with a fan on?: yes

Have a good handle on spelling?: yse

Ever type "kik" instead of "lol?: no

Know how to play chess?: yes

Ever miss being a little kid?: no

Want to get married?: wth? i am married!

Stolen Anything: i tried, but hold on, do hearts count?

Been Drunk Before Noon: no

Had Sex In A Public Place: wth? wth? wth?

Got Caught Telling A Lie: never, never, never, i tell you!

Got A Speeding Ticket: yes

Been Arrested: no

Littered: yes

Fantasized About A Co-Worker: yes, but, um, that was a long time ago, -cough-, and at a different job, okay?

Failed A Class: yes

Screened Your Phone Calls: yes

Eaten Food Off The Floor: yes

Stuck Gum Under A Desk: yes

Wished You Were Someone Else: yes

Cried During A Movie: yes

Had to pull over on the side of the road to puke?: yes

Had your heart broken?: yes and yes

Had a good feeling about something?: rarely

Had a near death experience: i'm thinking along the lines of asking a certain someone out on a date, awigh?

Swam in freezing water: no

Jumped off a house: wth?

Been attacked?: yes

Bungee jumped: no

White water rafted: no

Pulled an all nighter?: yes

Surfed: yes

Lied about your age: yes

Broken a bone?: yes

Describe Yourself In One Word: not-brave

Biggest Fear: being irrelevant

Biggest Mistake: now, see, there are too many to count, let alone pick from

Your Proudest Accomplishment: my kids

#1 Priority In Your Life: my kids

Dream Job: my kids

Causes You Believe In: bee cause

Special Talents: i can flick my cheek and make it sound like water dripping

Where Are You Right Now: on the futon

Where Would You Rather Be: on the floor

Famous Person You Want To Meet: jessica alba

Place To Visit Before You Die: the louvre

Song Played At Your Funeral: be thou my vision

What are you listening to right now: the fan

What makes you happy: my kids

What did you do yesterday: took one of my kids to camp

Won any awards?: at work, the whole team

Are you a good driver?: yes

Gotten any speeding tickets?: yes

Are you double jointed?: yes

Last time you showered?: this morning

What's the last dream you remember?: i'd rather not say

What side of the bed do you sleep on?: the left

Do you dress up on Halloween?: no

Are you outgoing or introverted?: introverted

Do you ever wish you were famous?: no

Have you ever done anything illegal?: yes

Where will you be 12 hours from now?: at work

Is it easy for others to make you feel awkward?: yes

Do you know what you are going to wear tomorrow?: yes

Is it easy for people to make you smile?: kind of

Does anyone hate you for no reason?: i dunno, hope not

Can you make yourself cry?: yes

How many hours of sleep did you get last night?: about five

Is your life simple or complicated?: complicated

Are you taller than 5'4"?: yes, but i already answered this, gaahh!

What was your last place of employment?: my current job

What color are your socks?: which ones? the white ones?

Have you laughed until you cried: yes

Have you found out who your true friends were: yes

Met someone who changed you: yes

Kissed anyone on your friends list: yes

What were you doing at midnight last night: getting ready for bed

Name something you CANNOT wait for: ice cream

Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: yes

What are you listening to right now: the fan, you ninny, i said that already!

What is one thing you wish you could change about your life: i wish i were brave

Last time you saw your father: two years before he died

Most visited webpage: drudge report and yahoo mail

Do people think you're weird?: yeah

Are any of your friends mad at you?: i didn't think so, but right now i'm not so sure

What's one new thing you'd like to try?: i'd like to learn to fly a plane

Would you get married before 19?: no

Can you crack your neck?: kind of

Are you a bully? O_o: no

Do you type fast?: yes

Do you get mad easily?: yes

Do you like getting hyper?: like? no, but i get that way

Do you like making kids cry?: wth? no!!!

Who's your best friend?: i'm not sure it's mutual, so i'd rather not say

What is the longest relationship you were in?: starting dating the woman i'm married to 18 years ago

First surgery: tonsils

First piercing: none

First best friend: fulton

First sport you joined: soccer

First pet: bootsies the cat

First vacation: probably to the jersey seashore

First concert: i remember going to a string quartet, but it might not have been the first

First crush: marildes

Very FIRST memory?: daffodils at the country manse in rehobet

First person you had a fight with?: my sister

First time you rode a bike?: probably when i was six

First car: 1967 pontiac catalina

First person you slow danced with: linda soules

If your house was on fire, first thing you'd grab?: my macbook

First Movie You Saw: 101 dalmations

First time you were afraid: masked kids at halloween

First song you remember listening to: the nutcracker suite

First thing you'd do with 5 million dollars: buy 5 million powerball tickets

First thing you notice when you look in the mirror?: who the h*ll is the ugly guy!

First impression of your bf/gf?: nice voice

Your ex and You: friends?

I am listening to: the fan, again, i've already answered this one!

Maybe I should: be more assertive, otherwise known as growing a pear

I love: cautiously

My best friend(s): very patient

I don't understand: what i did wrong

I have lost my respect for: fill in the blank

The meaning of my display name is: huh?

I will always be: kind of chickensh*t

Love seems to: hurt

I never ever want to lose: my car keys

I get annoyed when: i'm asked the same question over and over

Do you like parties?: nup

Today I...

I wish: i were brave, but i'm not

Are you neat or sloppy?: sloppy

What kind of clothes do you like?: sloppy

Are you mad at someone?: um, sure, i'll cop to that

What do you do in your spare time: blog and watch tv

Do you have any medical problems?: yeah, but i'm not going to list them all here

What kind of car do you have/want?: buick lesabre

Do you like to read? What?: magazines, current events, history

Do you cook?: this is a repeat!

Would you do drugs?: *do*, as in recreational drugs? no. i use drugs, over the counter and prescription

Have you ever written a song?: yes

Do you like poetry?: yes

Have you written poetry?: yes

Have you dated someone older than you?: yes

How much older?: about a year

Have you dated someone younger than you? yes

How much younger? well, girlfriend? 10 years younger, but just casual dating? 12 years younger

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Random Thoughts

2009-07-27T04:45:37Z

My dad died 23 years ago, yesterday, and I still miss him as intensely today as I did when he died, just not quite as often, and I think I miss my little sister - who died on July 28, 1966 - even more.

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I took AE to camp today, the first time she'll have been gone for a whole week, without family - she's growing up way too bleeping fast - and I'm already dreading the day I have to send her off to college.
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I've been diagnosed with depression and ADHD, but have done alot of reading on the subject of mental health, and I'm starting to think maybe I really *am* bipolar, I mean, even if I've only had hypomania, and not full-blown manic episodes, it stll explains alot of things about the way I am - it's not that I'd be pleased to wear the label, but I think it would be good to have a name for all this.
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I don't understand why so many of the world's citizens - or those in this country - fell so very much in love with the Music Man who currently occupies 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue: yes, BHO is charismatic but he's also massively full of himself, intelligent but all not all that bright, really - if I'm being honest, I predict when the history books are written, he will rank down with the bottom 25% of all presidents.
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How is anyone convinced to buy anything but term life insurance, except for estate tax mitigation? Yes, I understand how the shell game works, I just don't understand how any anyone can be talked into buying it. 'Psst, hey buddy, let me sell you a car insurance policy where you pay three tiems as much, each premium, for less coverage, but you'll get some of your money back, in the end.'

Sounds dumb, you say?

It is.
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I bought all five seasons of 'Alias' the other day, as well as both seasons' of 'Dark Angel', and maybe I just need to sit down and get 'er get it done, methinks.
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I want to write the Perfect Blog post, something tech-orientated, where I discover the link between Paris Hilton and the use of cell phones, or something, I'm just sayin.
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Writing

2009-07-17T06:08:43Z

See, I have a head chock-full of thoughts that I'd be loathe to write, even under a pseudonym, but I have to wonder how I would write if I weren't bound by decorum, common decency and courtesy for others.

I mean, it really goes to the question of artistic honesty, doesn't it? Oh sure, it worked for Henry Miller and Anais Nin, up to a point, in that they would write of things most others dare not whisper, but most of us don't want to hear the truth, indeed, we *want* to be lied to.

No middle-aged woman (or man) wants to be told that they are but a caricature of their younger and trimmer and better-looking self. No middle-school student wants to be told they simply don't have the intellectual ability to become a rocket scientist. And none of the multitudes of tone-deaf ninnies trying out for American Idol wants to be told they can't sing.

We don't want the truth.

We want to be told things that are patently *untrue*, that 2+2=5, and that our kids are smart and pretty, and that deficit spending will make us prosperous. We really do want to be told such things, and we'll be itching to pop a cap in the *ss of anyone who dares to tell us the truth.

And yet give a man a blog to write, and he'll start writing down all kinds of revelations, most of it ostensibly true: the boss is stupid, the neighbor's wife is ugly, and her son is fat. He'll post confessions of the soul, grand pronouncements about last weekend's sex, and last night's meal - or is it the other way around? - and so it goes.

But only a few of these brave new worlders will ever write such things under his own name, cause that would be dangerous, and let's face it, it's easier to write like that when one is hiding behind the protection of a kinda-anonymous screen name and a password.

So yeah, no one really want to hear the truth, and I'm not about to offer that up here. All you'll ever get it opinion out of me, and I will try to doctor that in ways that don't get me beaten up or arrested.

I'll leave that the fighting-words to the courageous ones, like Perez Hilton, and those countless YouTubers who write and produce their own video podcasts to the masses, cause see, that *really* takes guts: say something inflammatory, but be sure to put your own name and picture to it, as *well*

Indeed.
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Just Blathering

2009-07-09T04:48:25Z

I have a million things running around my head at the moment, and what keeps coming to mind are song lyrics.

No, really.

You know the ones. They serve as markers for the times in life: summer camp, first kiss, graduation, first job, big heartache, baby's birth.

And see, for me, all those moments in my life have songs that go with them.

It's not that the songs have necessarily any inherent meaning, although sometimes they do, it's more that they just happened to be playing alot when something significant happened in my life, and it's weird, cause I can *not* hear a song for years, and suddenly I'll here its refrain on the radio, and it will bring on a cascade of memories that could leave me smiling or crying, depending on what was going on in my life at the time.

For instance, Eric Clapton/Derek and the Dominoes' 'Layla' still recalls the summer after ninth grade, when I was back in the Twin Cities after living in South America for several years, hanging out with the kids from the church youth group, falling madly in lust over some other guy's girlfriend (yes, I still remember her name) - it was a mellow time, and the memories are mellow ones, as well.

Wham's 'Careless Whisper' and Paul Young's 'Every Time You Go' were two of several songs in the soundtrack of a break up that took me years to work thru, and even now, when I hear either song I feel like tearing up.

I'd been listening a lot to Nick Heyward's 'The Apple Bed' when my first daughter was born, and still remember driving home from saying goodnight to her at the hospital that first night, listening to 'Stars In Her Eyes' blaring on my car stereo

Of course, a lot of people my age seem to have had their musical interests and tastes frozen in amber during the first decade after high school or college, but I'm one of those strange ducks who cannot avoid learning about new artists and new music, and I am constantly adding new stock to my repertoire of Memory Songs, which in recent years has included ones by Anna Domino, Snakefarm, The Innocence Mission, The House Of Love, Regina Spektor, Missy Higgins, Augie March, Bright Eyes, Johnny Cash, Sufjan Stevens, Elliott Smith, and many more.

Right now the joint that's messing with my brain is by Regina Spektor, actually several by her, but most notably 'Samson,' which most times leaves me in a state, but I've also been affected recently the same way by 'Blue Lips,' although there aren't any fully-formed memories for that song yet, and it remains to be seen if they will be pleasant or sad ones.

Anyeay, I have a few projects I'd like to finish first - a podcast I wish to start, and some more writing I'd like to do - but I'm thinking I might compile a list of p'raps two or three dozen songs that have heavy-duty memories attached to them, and when I'm done, if I decide that it's not too embarrassing or revealing, maybe I'll publish it here.

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blogizdat @ 2009-06-27T15:23:00

2009-06-27T20:42:34Z

Like the rest of the world, I was stunned at the death of Michael Jackson this past week. Then again, maybe not. I mean, he was kind of mess, really, with the disfiguring scars of his many plastic surgeries, and the obvious emotional traumas of his childhood that were still being played out well into his middle-age.

So, maybe it's not a surprise that he might have died before his time, but it still came as a bit of a blow, because he was my age, give or take a year or two, and I'm not that old, yet, right?

Then again, Michael didn't die of old age, he died of perhaps a hundred things, precipitated - it seems - by the administration of the prescription painkiller Demerol, but that doesn't mean it's any less of a jolt, really, and even though I'm not a big fan, I'm still grieving his passing.

That said, I'm hard-pressed to know what to think of the man.

He was by all accounts an abused child who grew up without ever really growing up, a media superstar who was nonetheless broke on his ass in debt to the tune of some $400 million dollars at the time of his passing, a savvy businessman who seemed to be blissfully unaware of the effects his personal eccentricities had on those around him.

But was he that different from so many others?

Yes, I'd say he was, mostly because he was so very famous, and because his music was so very influential, but on a personal level, no, he was just a guy trying to make his way thru in the world. Indeed, in many respects he was probably worse off than the rest of us precisely *because* of the pressures of his career, or in the latter years, the lack thereof.

Anyway, I'm not going to engage in some kind of armchair psychology, casting runes with the elephant man's bones to unravel the cipher that was Michael Jackson, I mean, hell, I can't even figure myself out, most days, or those in my immediate circle, so I'll leave it others to do the forensics, both physical and emotional, on the recently-departed MJ.

I'll just note here that Michael Jackson created some of the most indelible sounds and images of my lifetime, and that his legacy of music will be what really matters, not his quirkiness, so I salute him in his passing for what he contributed to popular culture, and hope that his soul finds a peace in death that was often denied him in life.

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Musing

2009-05-28T00:22:28Z

It's been a cool and overcast day, the kind that one usually associates with Seattle and/or London - though I've been in Seattle and seen the sunshine, so I have to wonder if that's not just a myth - but it's also the kind of day that most people would call 'dreary,' and indeed, there've been times when I've found such days to be on the dismal side.

But you know, mostly I find gray days like this to be soothing, cause bright sunshine tends to hurts my eyes, and I guess I'm actually left a bit more mellow for all the soft light of a truly cloudy day.

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Anyway, it's a cloudy Wednesday and I'm on Daddy-Duty today, and in fact I was on Daddy-Duty all last week, too, as Mrs. Muzzy was out of the country to her paternal uncle's memorial service. I actually worked from home about half-time, brought home my work laptop and logged in from here, but there was also all the attendant running around with the kiddies, especially LK, who is only in half-day kindergarten.

At least, as of this week, Kiddie Choir is over for the summer, and we don't have to rush over there after school, so I've been lolligagging about this afternoon, after taking LK to her therapy appointment, watching YouTube videos, and chatting with friends online, old and new.
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I must say, I am very shy in social groups, and I find that I'm much the same on social networking sites, as well. It's not that I can't interact with people, but there are times when I'm just at loss for words.

I remember in the early days of Compuserve and America Online, I'd wander into chat rooms and just watch the stream of text flow by on the screen, fascinated with the ease that others seemed to have, and feeling completely mute. Occasionally someone would call out a 'hey there,' and try to entice me into the discussion, but I'd just lurk, and eventually leave.

Nearly twenty years later, little has changed.

But you know, it's different here on my blog, I mean, this is my soapbox, and yes, there are days/weeks/months when I'm just off the whole experience, and feel lexicologically congested, but then there's other times when it feels like the words are just there, waiting to be plucked, and dressed, and presented to the world, though I admit that today is not one of those days.
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It's strange, I own maybe a thousand record albums, nearly as many CD's, and hundreds of gigabytes of digital music, and there's only about ten or twelve albums worth of tunes that I ever listen to - ever, and of those ten, there are maybe three albums that I listen to regularly. It's not that I never listen to new music, cause my favorite albums are constantly being updated with new ones, often things that have yet to hit the mainstream, and won't be 'popular' until next year.

BTW, I'm baffled by those of my peers who prattle on about how nothing good has been recorded since some Steve Miller or Boston album that came out back when they were in college? I can't imagine not listening to only to music that evoked my high school days, or young adulthood, mostly because my teens and twenties were massively depressing, but also because there's just so much great music being made today.

And that's just it, I *do* listen to alot of new music, all the time, in fact, but I guess I'm not that different than the young skulls-full-of-mush who are coming of age at present, in that I use last.fm, Pandora and YouTube to try stuff out, and I don't go to the store to buy CD's much any more, cause with the advent of the many online music stores, and the likes of Limewire - which I've only heard of, you know - it's easier than ever to assemble one's own 'Now That's What I Call My Favorite Music' playlists, and just bypass the purchasing of albums, altogether.

(Shame on bands and record companies for putting out albums and collections with one or two great songs, and the rest just tripe filler. If they'd offer up a dozen great tunes, we'd all rush out to buy twelve great tunes, I have to imagine.)

I was just struck by all this when I went to my iPod yesterday to listen to something at work, and scrolled thru some 2000 songs without finding a thing that looked interesting enough to press 'play,' and I had to wonder just WTH I have all that music cluttering up my shelves and hard drives for.

I'm just sayin'.
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Anyway, I'm feeling completely distracted right now by my two lovely daughters and their whooping and hollering, so I think I'll let all the writing go for the evening, but I really to think I need to return soon to vent my political spleen, as, well, check back in a few, and I'll try to put down something or other, in due season.

Shalom.

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Meh

2009-05-14T12:25:15Z

I'm having a 'meh' day, in the middle of a 'meh' week - okay, it's far more than a simple 'meh' - and there's not much I can to to ameliorate that right now, cause it's all about those things I cannot control.

And it's so strange to think that there was a time when I held out hope that I might someday get to a place in my life when I'd be able to just let go of all that, to stop allowing myself to stress about such things, but that's just it, cause it's exactly those things I can't control that seem to be the ones that stress me the most. And that's the part I don't get, I mean, I know it all intellectually, and I am even able to sit and counsel others in the steps of cognitive therapy, and indeed, I've had occasion to assist more than one person thru their very own Hour Of No-Power by doing exactly that: walking them thru the fallacy of their thinking, showing them other ways of viewing things that might seem on the surface to be very grim, but which in reality aren't always what they appear, and I've watched others come to a place of healing and growth thru all that. But me? Well, not so much. I mean, I am familiar with all the concepts and the lingo, and I even believe it and know it to be true, but when the walls feel like they are closing in, it's as if I'm possessed of a kind of emotional epilepsy - a loss of emotional control - and I don't have a magic pill for that, so there's not much else I can do but to ride out the storm, knowing that it will likely get better, as it has so many times before - and until then...

Like I said, 'meh.'

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Lies, D*mn Lies And Static

2009-05-08T04:27:31Z

Okay, something I really dislike - and I dislike it about myself, too - is when people use words in ways that are different than what they appear to really mean.

For example, 'How are you doing?' isn't an interrogative, really, it's a greeting, and almost no one really gives a rat's *ss how you, or I, or anyone else is really doing, it is said reflexively, with no thought at all.

In fact, if someone asks you on the way the loo at work, 'Hey, how are you doing?' the best thing to say back is, 'Hey, how are *you* doing?' with the appropriate hand gesture and a game smile, and then shuffle off to your appointment with the porcelain throne.

See, your inquisitor isn't really interested in the your intestinal problems, or your writer's block, or the fact that your mistress now plays for the other team and has convinced your wife to join, and the two of them in the process of evicting your from the home you paid for with the sweat of your brow.

He wants to say something, because, well, he's required to, it's the office code of ethics that you have to greet each other in the halls, even if you just saw each other ten minutes before at a staff meeting, doesn't matter, you are still obliged to greet your co-workers - and especially your boss - if the two of you should happen to pass within permissible distances of each other.

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Other examples of linguistic tomfoolery are the obligatory yearbook signings:

'Stay Just As You Are, Always' or its cousin, 'Don't Ever Change" - WTH? Who wants that? Stay pimply and broke?

'Let's Be Best Friends Forever!' - Yeah, right. In twenty years I won't remember your name, maybe ten.

'You Always Made Us Smile' - Uh huh, that's because you people were laughing at me for my stupid glasses.

'Kilroy Was Here' - Um, no Kilroy was not.
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Well, there are other euphemistic delights, especially in the Books of Love and Death but those shall remain for another day.+++++</center>

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Blog Talk

2009-04-30T23:05:20Z

I was thinking just now about when I started blogging, on Livejournal, and I remember exactly how it all happened, what prompted me to dip my toe into the water, as it were, and who my first readers were.

Indeed, it was a small club of maybe eight or ten of us, and to my knowledge those people were the only ones who read, but we all commented each other's posts, traded quips, fed on each other's innuendos, and had a genuinely good time, until someone became abusive, posted something offensive to one of my posts, and when called on it, not only refused to apologize, but told me to go eff myself.

And that was that. I deleted that person from my 'friends' list, and opened up a blog on Blogspot the very same day, and moved most of my online presence here, or there, depending on where this post is being read.

Beginnings? When I started, it was nearly all political stuff, and I posted all the time, obsessively, got involved in the Minnesota Organization of Bloggers (a loose knit group, more social than anything), and I was genuinely excited about the whole movement. It wasn't that I had any delusions of getting rich or even making a living, but I honestly liked the idea of being able to publish my thoughts, and I liked the idea of of having others read and comment. I was very proud of my little blog.

Traffic? In the early days there weren't too many hits, but as I posted more and more, I sometimes would have hundred and even five hundred hit days. These days there are still some thirty to fifty hits a day, from all over the world, but it's almost never for the things I've published lately, it's mostly for a particularly link that I posted to some story, or a picture I linked to, again and again, just a handful of links that account for most of the traffic, and I don't even pay attention to the traffic anymore, really, because in truth, it doesn't matter, given that some people read thru RSS Aggregators anyway, and don't show up in stats.

Posting? Or Not? There are months on end when I post nothing here. I even forget that I have a registered domain that points here, and I'm hard-pressed to care. But then it's like there's a small voice inside that wants expression, and I find myself feeling an urge to scratch a writing itch that can't be satisfied for writing in a private journal, or on a purely social networking site, so I stumble back home, and write and write, until the next utterly unproductive dry patch.

Future? I dunno. On one hand I'd love to be part of some kind of community of bloggers who would comment each other's posts, encourage each other to bigger and better things, preferably made up by those in the same city, who could meet for beers at the pub, and be friends. On the other hand, the more dominant hand, the misanthrope in me insists I work alone, without a net, and that I write whatever the hell I want, without regard for anyone or anything, which of course that leaves me feeling very lonely and disconnected, and back to staring at the first hand. I've actually considered starting up entirely new blogs, with various different personas, placed I could give expression to the different thoughts and ideas I have, but I've come to the conclusion that I'm pretty much too lazy for all that.

In the end I have to imagine I will keep this blog going for some time, maybe reinvent the content yet again, but I can only write and post what interests me, and while I'd love for others to come along with me, I'd be lying if I said I thought I could ever keep the customer satisfied, unless the customer were some voyeuristic freak who enjoyed reading the rantings of a misanthropic dysthymic. I do find it strange that in the beginning my writing was almost all impersonal, externally-focused, and now I tend to write the internal stuff - like I said, strange, that.

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Random Blather

2009-04-30T04:51:16Z

Okay, I keep promising to post more here - both clippings and writing - and I really do mean it, but something keeps coming up, either I get really busy, or I find myself feeling mute, or I end up mired in the swamps & quicksands of The Dark Place, or something - there's always something - but I'm determined to try, even if nothing ambitious, I'll aim for something weekly, and maybe go from there.

As an aside, at one point this past winter I was asked by a couple of friends to join a writing group on Facebook, where we would write things just for the group, to be read and critiqued, and for a few short weeks that showed some promise, and I rather liked the closed nature of the group, and the feedback I would get on what worked and didn't work with a given piece I'd posted, but the whole thing seems to have collapsed of late, with the principal instigator caught up in thesis work for a Master's Degree, so I've lost that outlet, and I guess I've just come to the conclusion that this venue is where I belong, at least for now, and at least for my more public writing - and all my whining to the contrary, I *have* started posting back on the 'Book again, after a hiatus of some weeks. (wince)

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Tech talk: I'm typing this on my Palm Pilot - well, I'm typing on a foldout wireless keyboard, with the Palm sitting in a cradle - which allows me to type as if I were using my laptop, and the cool part is that I can fit the Palm in one pocket, and the keyboard in another, and I've effectively got a kind of laptop with me.

Okay, it's not quite all that, and even though it does have wifi built in, it doesn't allow me to surf very elegantly or with any speed, and the small screen isn't conducive to viewing much, but it does work, and it's nice, cost me three years ago about as much as an entry-level netbook does today.

Confession: I admit I am prolly going to pick up a netbook too, most likely an eee PC 1000, with Linux installed, with the 10 inch screen, and the 40 gigs of flash memory, and I'm really looking forward to it.

(Oh yeah, I also want to get an iPod Touch but that might have to wait.)
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I've been on Daddy Duty today, didn't manage to get to sleep till late last night - couldn't, really - and woke up this AM to a cold and dreary day, overcast, drizzly, utterly matching my mood, as I have spent the day anxious and down due to a number of things, most of which I cannot control, precisely which is what gets me most bent out of shape, methinks.

I mean, if I'm honest, I can't control much of anything, really, but I am no different than others in my deep-rooted human need to maintain the perception of being in some degree of control, and when that isn't present, stress ensues, unless one is capable of taking a kind of zen approach and just let go of people and things, which is very easy to advocate to others, and very hard to put in practice.
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Along that line, I was thinking the other day about the well-known scale I've seen that charts changes and stress, and assigns points to each kind of change - even things that would seem good, like graduating, or getting married - and then the user is asked to total the points. If the resulting number exceeds a total of 300, I believe, that person is at risk for their mental health.

But a couple of things occurred to me:

1) I have to imagine that alot of people have a higher or lower threshold for such things, or rather, that they will thrive or crack based on a host of things, including their predisposition to anxiety and depression, and to their ability to employ self-hypnosis or their religious beliefs, and I guess what I'm trying to say is that not everyone fits into such neat categories.

2) I have to imagine that the change and stress measured on such scales results almost universally in a loss of control, and that it's the very loss of the feeling of control that causes a great deal of the anguish for most people - well, it does for me, at least.

I mean, the bad things that happen to us obviously result in loss of control, that's easy to see, but even the so-called good things do too: marriage, graduation, the birth of a baby, all these things bring on a loss of the familiar, and insert an element of uncertainly into our lives, and along with them, a real or perceived loss of control over things that had previously seemed routine.

For myself, I've come to realize that I have control over almost nothing in life, certainly not complete control, not even over my own feelings, let alone what others say and do, and yet not being to really let go of that is precisely the locus of most of the angst in my life, I do imagine.
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As an aside, I offer the following musings on this only-slightly-related tangent:

A favorite pastime of the childless - yes, I've done it, too, and managed to keep it going even after my own kids were born - is to bitch and moan about how parents don't have or keep control over their children, and to be fair, there *are* parents who allow their kids to misbehave, and to get away with things they shouldn't, but any parent can confirm the fundamental truth that you never entirely control your kids, and indeed, even though one must make an attempt, it's really just a fool's crusade.

Indeed, the point is to raise our kids to be independent and thinking beings, not robots, and that means giving more and more freedom as they age - yes, even as youngsters - and letting them make their own mistakes, but I also know that we are judged by our kids and their behaviour, and that ultimately there really *are* societal norms that kids are expected to follow, and it's important to learn such things early on.

But for some people the pressure of living up to the expectations of others is an ongoing hell, having been started for them in childhood, in the bosom of their families, and many of them spend a lifetime never entirely able to recover, growing up to be charming and successful narcissists in their own right, who notwithstanding their considerable skills, spend their own lives in great sisyphusian battles for control of themselves and those around them, leaving trails of damage behind them in their wake, and if they learn nothing from it all, will most likely create yet another generation of little narcissists, and so on, and so on.

(And in case you wonder, yes, I speak from personal knowledge, as I'm well-aware I've probably been some of that, but then again, it's just my opinion, and I could be wrong.)
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I went out for a walk last night, or tried to, but just as I was leaving work, I had an attack of some kind of intestinal disturbance (fill in the blanks, people) and decided setting out on a long trek was not the best idea. Still, I'd been feeling so angsty all day that I simply couldn't *not* get out and about, so I set out for what is one of my favorite spots in the city, the Stone Arch Bridge that runs across the Mississippi River, connecting downtown to Old Saint Anthony. (I used to live not but blocks from there in my bachelorhood, in several different apartments, and always liked living so very close to the river.)

Anyway, I'd no sooner parked my car when I saw some people taking some pictures in the park adjacent to the bridge, and as I got closer I could see a very tame deer strolling along, seemingly oblivious to the flashes, so I got out my camera and took some video of the Bambi as it came right up and sniffed my camera, very strange, but very cool. I'll see about maybe posting it later.
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Anyway, as I said, I was on Daddy Duty today, and when I got up I was feeling as low as in the ever the longest time, but life doesn't go on hold for such things, so I got the girls dressed and fed and out the door, with their homework checked - AE made a mistake on her percentages - and then headed to the clinic to have blood drawn for a Lipid Panel, coming off a 12 hour water-only fasting.

Well, as can be imagined, the techs who draw the blood have a fetish for veins, something they share with medical types the world over - 'ooh, get a load of the veins on *that* one, Margaret! I bet I could start an IV with her, no problem!' - and today's tech staff was no exception, but she was also professional and quick and good about it, unlike some, who poke and prod and leave bruises.

The cool thing is that I was able to log into my medical records site by supper time and get the results:

Total Cholesterol = 162
Triglyceride = 158
HDL = 46
LDL = 84

So I guess the Triglyceride reading is borderline, and my doc may want me to up my meds, but the rest of the readings area within the normal range, I do believe, so I suppose all the hard living has paid off, and I should be glad for that, eh?
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After I went to have the blood drawn I grabbed some breakfast and went to Reservoir Woods to go walking, even though my left foot was hurting something fierce, I still managed to get in some 6 or 7 thousand steps in the hilly trails. It's one of the favorite places in the Twin Cites, just lovely, and urban forest unlike anything else in the Metro Area, in my never-to-be-humble opinion, and today I had it pretty much to myself, as best I could tell - well, at least I saw or heard no others - and in the end, I didn't really fell any better than when I started, but I was still glad I was able to get out and about.

I made it back to the house in time to get LK off her noon bus, and after a quick lunch, ran her across town to her speech therapy appointment, wrote some of this entry whilst waiting for my lovely and rambunctious daughter, and when we were done with her therapy we did a short walk in the woods behind the office, and then to the playground until it was time to pick up AE and take them both to church choir, after which we had the communal meal, and then home for baths, homework and bedtime. Whew!
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Oh yeah, I've written before about how wrong I so very often am about other people - the things they say and do - and I continue to be amazed at that.

See, I am prone to ascribe malice when none is remotely intended, yet fail to even notice those who have the long knives out; I am quite often suspect of those who deserve nothing but the utmost trust, yet I have been known to cast my lot in with rogues who care not a whit for my well-being; I offer my undying loyalty to scoundrels, yet don't appreciate those True and Blue Ones who've stuck by me through thick and thin. (I must say, I have to wonder where I was the day my peers received their inoculations against Gullibility and Naiveté.)

Additionally, I've come to the conclusion I really am a lousy friend, cause I neglect the people I care about, and I don't entirely understand why - well, I know my EQ doesn't come close to matching my IQ - and yet I end up feeling mangled when others do the same to me, so go ahead and say it, something about being a hypocrite, maybe?

In the end, I'm now steaming full-speed through middle age, with my future securely behind me, and yet I quite often feel just as befuddled by it all as I was when I was a wee lad, and for all my brilliance and knowledge, I seem to still have so very much to learn.

Sigh.
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This weekend is the big Festival of Garage Sales at Bryn Mayr, and AE and I are planning on going. It's a lot of walking, and I'll hope my foot hold out, but I'm looking forward to it, and she is, too. We always find some cool little gem that we didn't know we couldn't live without. heh
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Anyway, that's enough for now, methinks, maybe if I'm inspired I'll add to this later, but I'm on Daddy Duty again tomorrow, so I'll prolly be retiring to my Royal Bed Chamber soon, so g'night and g'day to ye, whomever and wherever and whenever you might be reading this.
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How To Lose Friends And Alienate People

2009-04-01T04:53:58Z

Okay, someone else already wrote a book or two on the subject - there's even a movie out by the name, check Amazon for the DVD info - but maybe I can still add something to the topic.

Then again, great as is my talent in the field, maybe I can't, because even though I can post more freely here than on the 'Book, I can't really be *that* open, even in this forum, cause I'm only semi-anonymous here, but let me just reprise (in part) something I posted here not but maybe ten days ago, because I don't think I can write anything fresh that could capture any better the gist of what I'm thinking and feeling right now, no matter that only some the song remains the same:

I'm continually amazed at how wrong I can be about life, about everything really - the stock market, the weather, the best route home - but especially about people. I mean, I'm forever thinking I have things between me and others figured out, only to discover I've entirely misapprehended something that in retrospect should have been completely obvious, but it just never is.

What's more, even when I figure out that something is amiss, I always seem do the wrong thing: I zig when I should zag, and zag when I should zig, keep my mouth closed when I should speak up, and blurt out foolishness when I should just keep quiet. I just can't seem to get it right. Ever.

And what is most disconcerting is that not only do I seem to get things so very wrong, so very often, but that my reaction to it all seems be what causes me far more distress than is remotely warranted, as if beating up on myself for things I cannot change is the least bit useful.

Sigh.

Sigh, indeed.

And see that's the thing, I sometimes wonder if there's some kind of misfortune radar planted deep in my skull that knows how to hone in on exactly the wrong thing to say or do, and then compels me to execute the launch sequence, just-like-that, but hey, it's not that I *want* to mess things up, but I still manage to do so, no matter all my good intentions.

I just thought as a lad that once I was out of my teenage years I'd be past the angst and the fears of failure, and that I'd no longer end up cringing in the face of rejection and rebuke, but it hasn't turned out that way for me. Indeed, recently I read that the older one gets, the less one cares about appearances, or social faux-paus, or general messing-up, but I maintain that's just so much steer-dung, at least for myself, because it all seems to have gotten worse as I've aged, not better, and if there's a steaming pile of inter-personal excrement somewhere, I'm pretty sure I'll find it and plant a foot right in the middle of it all.

Meh.

Well, that's as much as I can say here, so I guess you'll have to wait for my version of the movie, but in the meantime, all kidding aside, it's all been conspiring to drive me to the quicksand of the The Dark Place, so if you need to find me just now, I'll be the one over in the corner, washing down benzos with hard liquor, I'm just saying. (Okay, the last part was kidding, honest, even if I might wish, so lighten up.)
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After work tonight I was feeling angsty-as-snot so I invoked my executive privilege to mutter oath against the pain in my left foot and decided to go for a long walk anyway, so I headed down to one of my favorite spots in the city, the SE side of the Mississippi River, just opposite downtown, crossed the Stone Arch Bridge in the misty cold, and as always, found myself a wee bit in awe of the sight of the downtown skyline in the nearly-gone twilight, then walked along the rain-swollen river, under the Third Avenue and Hennepin Avenue bridges, back thru the courtyard of the Federal Reserve building, and then retraced my steps along the Father of Waters, and back across the Stone Arch to my car. As I was walking the first leg of my trek, it began to rain/snow/sleet, and I was glad I'd had the presence of mind to wear my water-proof coat: I just pulled the hood up and went on my way rejoicing, felt the sting of the ice pellets against my face, the only part of me that was really exposed, not the most pleasant sensations, but not that bad, either, and seemed like a worthwhile punishment to be pay for having dared to try to enjoy a River Walk Adventure, as my girls and I are wont to call it.
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And now? Migawd, my foot is really hurting!
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Okay, WTH is up with Gmail tonight, and why can't I log in? It seems to not like me. My first thought was of the Conficker thingie that's set to pop out of the digital hurdy-gurdys in a couple of hours, but that's kind of silly, since most of the net runs on some variant of 'Nix for a reason, not the least of which is that Redmond products are notoriously susceptible to malware and virii, and can't be trusted to not steal the ashtrays and kick the dog on the way to the tourbus. Get a Mac, I say.
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Speaking of Macs, I still impressed with how great my MacBook is, from the appearance of the screen, to the impressive-as-hades keyboard, to the more-that-reasonable price. What I don't understand is that even though it's possible to get an entry-level peecee laptop, to get a decent one costs pretty much the same as a Mac, without, well, being a Mac. Why spent U$1200 to U$1500 on an okay generic laptop when you could have a superior product for about the same amount of cash? Well, there are women who think their homely hubbies are good-looking, and there are men who think their peecee is a great 'puter, and who am I to argue with either of them, but for me, life's too short to dance with ugly laptops, you know?
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Oh yeah, as I mentioned before, Mrs. Muzzy bought an HP netbook, and I liked it so much, I'm going to prolly have to pick up a Linux-run 10 inch screen eee PC in the next few weeks, but if you're inclined to wanna get me one for my upcoming birthday, I would not turn you away at the door. Make it so, Ensign.
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And speaking of Linux, I managed to get a live CD distro of Puppy Linux up and running on a really ancient Compaq Presario 1230 laptop, but apparently the latest and greatest version of the Puppy wants 128 megs of RAM for the program to bootstrap the OS into RAM, to run faster, and this machine only has 96 megs, maxed-out. Anyway, I had to use an earlier version of the OS, which works like a charm, much faster and far more stable than the stone-age version of Window 98SE that's on the internal hard drive, but I can't get The Puppy to recognize either the modem or the PCMCIA WIFI Card, so there's no using internet on that 'puter. Gaaah! See, I was thinking of giving the machine to my almost 15 year-old niece for her personal use, but she wants to spend her free hours on the Facebook, so it's not so good for her, so maybe I'll give her my old iMac - if I can bring myself to part with it.

Sigh.
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I could really go for a small dish of vanilla/chocolate chip Haagen Daz right now. No, really.
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I've got such a celebrity-crush on Lily Allen - she's so puhrdy, and she sings like a bird - and her new album is so good, I'm just really annoyed that I didn't get tickets for her sold-out April show at First Avenue. Thing is, I have a friend at work who has tickets, and not even an appeal to his commie-lefty sentiments of 'share the wealth' could get him to consider giving or even selling one of his tickets to me.

Hey, I have a thought: as long as the Obamessiah is bailing out everyone else, maybe there should be a government agency in charge of making sure that everyone gets tickets to see their favorite cheeky BritPop Starlet in concert. I'm just sayin'.

BTW, first it was 'The Fear,' and now it's 'Not Fair' that I can't get out of my head. What's next? 'Eff You?' Gaaahh!
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Strange days, indeed: Mrs. Muzzy and the girls and I ended up spending part of the afternoon and evening on Sunday with an old girlfriend of mine and her husband, and eight year-old son. Mrs Muzzy and my ex had worked together in a former life, so they knew each other well, but I'd never met my ex's hubby, and I must say he seems like a right fine gentleman: I think she's done well for herself. I just never would have imagined in a million years that it would have been possible for the lot of us to hang out for a few hours at a McDonald's whilst the kiddies romped in the play area, and never feel the least bit weird about it.
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Oh yeah, I went out for a walk last night, came home late, watched 24, and was headed to bed when an infestation of tiny black ants was spotted in various spots in the New Room and Study, so I went to the all-night supermarket to secure some ant traps, and I can report that they work like the roach motel: the critters check in but they don't check out, just as advertised.
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It's the sort of thing that every parent says, and I'm sure those who aren't parents just roll their eyes at such comments, but I really have a hard time getting my brain around the fact that AE is going to turn 10 this month. I mean, it really does seem like a month or two ago I was playing patty-cake with her, but there she is, in all her tweenage glory, learning and doing and being: she spends her time designing games with her little sister, has mastered my ancient tv-based Pacman unit, announced this past week that she wants to play violin in the school orchestra/band next year, and in a few short years she'll getting her driver's license and going off to college. I'm not ready for that.
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You know, when I get into a state, writing is sort of therapeutic, and tonight I think I could write and write and write and not run out of pointless drivel to put down, but then again, I'm dog-tired, and need to sleep, so I'll just say to those who might read: cheers to you and yours, and may you never...
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I'm In Shock And In Tears

2009-03-24T03:46:54Z

I just got a call from my brother telling me my aunt was killed in a freeway car crash this evening around suppertime. Apparently an SUV blew a tire, crossed the median and struck several vehicles, including one being driven by my aunt, and she died at the scene.

My aunt was related to me by marriage to my dad's brother, and was only about 14 years old than I, a gentle lady with a sweet disposition, and even though she and I were never extremely close, she was kind to me, and I've always had a warm affection for her.

The inevitable questions come to mind: Why does this kind of thing happen? How come it feels like it always happens to me and the ones I care about? What's the sense of it all? Why do horrible things happen to good people? Of course, there aren't good answers for most of that, and in any event, now isn't the time to be asking such questions: it's a time to cry, and to hug, and to care for the living. Anyway, I am feeling more-than-sad right now, for our whole family's loss: my aunt will be missed so very much.

Anyway, kids are asleep, and I'm otherwise alone in the house right now, and it's too late to call anyone, but I just felt I had to write something. Thank you for reading this, and thank you for your thoughts and prayers.

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This And That

2009-03-22T20:49:40Z

I've been going full-tilt in the Facebook world for nearly a year now, sometimes posting lots, sometimes posting little, and for all my carping about it, I don't hate it, I really don't - in fact, I kind of like it, if I can accept its limitations.

But the thing is, even though it's possible to write longer pieces on FB, some people actually get cranky about it, and one person I know even went so far as to 'de-friend' me for posting too often, told me it was annoying that I posted so many little things to my FB Wall.

Of course, I know there are at least a dozen of my nearly ten dozen Facebook Friends who not only read, but actually seem to enjoy what I post - or at least they say they do - and what's more, Facebook has allowed me to reconnect with some old friends with whom I'd lost touch for years, and to have some level of contact with persons who'd otherwise be out of my life altogether.

But, with all that said, there's still something a bit disturbing about the whole FB experience.

I think what annoys me the most is the sterile but confusing layout, punctuated by the twitter-like staccato banality of so much of the interaction that goes on there, my own not excepted, which in spite of my serious ADD-like tendencies, I find all a bit overwhelming. And if that weren't enough - and don't you think it ought to be - there's the shabbiness that is the FB IM system, the interminable invites to join causes, and all the 'pieces of flair' that otherwise well-meaning people keep sending. I mean, really, it's enough to make a grown man cry.

Who am I kidding? I mean, yes, it's irritating as Hades, but for an attention-starved middle-aged schmuck like me it's like some kind of Brokeback Internet Meth-Cocaine, one hard addiction to quit, and I've pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I will need at least the Methadone version for a long, long time.

Fancy a super-poke, my friend?

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LK, AE and Mrs. Muzzy came back late Friday afternoon from a week in Disneyworld, having funded their very own economic stimulus package in support of the Giant Mouse of Orlando, and as frustrating as it is to cope with the wee ones bickering and complaining all the time, I'm glad to have them back. I really missed my honey-bunnies, and so did my kitty, methinks.
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Mrs. Muzzy spent a good deal of time Saturday playing with her new Linux HP Netbook, whilst I spent an hour or two researching various aspects of the SUSE Enterprise Linux 10 that the machine uses, but I finally gave up and went and bought a $40 book about the OS at Barnes and Noble.

Of course, I am now possessed of the urge to get an eee PC Netbook for myself, one with the 40 gig flash drive, and the 10-inch screen, and the simplified version of Xandros Linux, which seems more my speed. I just have to figure out if I can reasonably justify buying one. Oh, WTH, I can afford it, right?

Meh
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AE went off with her Grandma on Saturday AM to see a play at the Children's Theatre, and LK had to be taken cross-town to a birthday party with one of her little chums, so after dropping her off I went for a walk in the warmish sunshine. My foot was hurting - as it usually is - but I still walked about a mile or two, just to say I did.

Gawd, I hate being unable to walk as much as I'd like without being in excruciating pain. It's so humiliating and frustrating to be restricted in doing the one form of exercise that I not only enjoy but that it is really good for me: it helps burn calories (I lost ten pounds last year from upping my steps), it helps my mood (when I am anxious or depressed, which is far too often, a tonic for my body and soul), and it can even be a social thing (my brother and I would walk and talk a lot this past year, when he was going thru some hard times).

I keep hoping that any day my foot will heal, and I'll be able to engage in unmolested pedorthic locomotion, but that seems not to be, and I have the notion that this is going to afflict me forever, 'til the day I am taken off to the gallows to be hanged by the neck under the Unable-To-Suffer-Pain-With-Dignity-And-Grace Act.
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While I was out walking in NE Minneapolis/Saint Anthony, I stopped at the large Italian-looking St. Charles Bartolomo Catholic Church and admired the simple beauty of the place, and after walking around the empty sanctuary two or three times, I settled into a back pew for a few moments of quiet prayer and meditation.

I am not Catholic, nor have I ever seriously considered seeking spiritual sanctuary in the bosom of the Church of Rome, but I find a certain majesty in so many Catholic Churches, with the Stations of the Cross, the incense and candles, and the gorgeous buildings. Okay, that's not always the case: I've been in Catholic Churches that display the most vulgar and garish post-modern lack of architectural taste, but there's a graceful grandeur in many Catholic Churches that is seriously lacking in that of a lot of their Protestant cousins.

Anyway, I picked up a bulletin from the pew rack - there seemed to have been a morning Mass an hour or two before - and turned it over to find a whole back-pageful of ads for various business concerns in the neighborhood, and I must say, all the wonder of the moment slipped away as I read pitches for funeral homes and florists, hamburger joints and dentists, and even an ad for an repair shop or two. I mean, I don't mean to be excessively uncharitable, but it all just seemed really tacky to me.

(Check out this example from a different church's bulletin here.)

And see, it's not that I object to the idea of God and Mammon somehow peacefully coexisting, and I'm not in the least bit anti-business, but it just seems a bit shabby and tawdry for a House Of God to take on advertising, right there in the church bulletin. I mean, what's next? Baptisms sponsored by the local bottled water distributors? Weddings sponsored by Celexa and Wellbutrin? Homilies sponsored by the local college adult-ed programs? Sheesh.

In the end, while I disagree strongly with my Catholic Brothers and Sisters on some matters of theology, I generally have a great deal of admiration and respect for them, but on this issue they and I will have to agree to disagree.
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Anyway, after I brought LK home, I went back out again to several bookstores, looking for the aforementioned book on SUSE Linux, and for a couple of books to replace the ones I gave to a friend earlier in the week, but came up empty-handed. I guess I'll have to try eBay, maybe. See, I never really loan anything to anyone, mostly cause I don't believe it's a good idea, especially between friends, as things have a way of getting lost, but I will give books and cd's and dvd's if I think they will be appreciated, and I try to have an extra copy or two of my favorite half-dozen books to give to the persons in my life I think might read and enjoy them.
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I know this is probably quite evident to anyone who knows me, but I'm continually amazed at how wrong I can be about life, about everything really - the stock market, the weather, the best route home - but especially about people. I mean, I'm forever thinking I have things between me and others figured out, only to discover I've entirely misapprehended something that in retrospect should have been completely obvious, but it just never is.

What's more, even when I figure out that something is amiss, I always seem do the wrong thing: I zig when I should zag, and zag when I should zig, keep my mouth closed when I should speak up, and blurt out foolishness when I should just keep quiet. I just can't seem to get it right. Ever.

And what is most disconcerting is that not only do I seem to get things so very wrong, so very often, but that my reaction to it all seems be what causes me far more distress than is remotely warranted, as if beating up on myself for things I cannot change is the least bit useful.

But that's the thing, I am not a very adept socially, and I rather like a certain level of solitude, as lonely as it often leaves me, yet I also want to connect with others, too, and I think that dichotomy - made worse by the fact that I stir myself into a frenzy when things appear to go wrong - has been the source of a significant amount of discontent in my life, and I fear it always will be so.

Sigh.
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I really like the new Lily Allen album. I know, she's got a bit of a potty-mouth, and her lyrics are rather juvenile and poorly-constructed, but she's refreshingly honest in her writing, and her voice is oh-so-pretty - well, so is she - and I just really like her, and I'd love to meet her. Okay, I know better than that. Her politics are foolish, and I suspect I'd find her insufferable in person, just as she'd no doubt think me boring and idiotic, but I still like her music, and I love her new album, especially 'The Fear.' It's sheer genius, in my never-to-be-humble opinion.
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As of yesterday it is now officially Spring, and there have been days when the temps have been quite pleasant, even if the buds won't start popping out for another couple of weeks, and of course, it's not until the flowers and trees are crowned in green that the full impact of the season is apparent. Indeed, I love Minnesota Springs, with the warm days and cool nights, the air laden with the fragrance of Lilacs, but it also feels like a cruel time of year in that I've experienced several breakups and a job layoff during the months of March and April and May, and the juxtaposition of the renewal of life against memories of black sheets of howling anguish always leaves me a bit out-of-sorts, and I suspect I will always struggle with that.
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Okay, my head is full-to-overflowing of thoughts on the current president's administration, and I'll have to save most of it for another post, but for this: POTUS BHO seems to be an affable fellow, rather intelligent, but possessed of foolish ideas, and I fear that he is leading this country over a cliff, and into a sea of financial calamity from which we may not escape in my lifetime, even as I pray that I am wrong
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I think this is enough for now, don't you? Peace, out.
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The Other Site

2009-03-04T05:27:05Z

I've been meaning to tell you, and I can't keep this a secret any longer.

I've been seeing someone another site, and yes, you've met: it's Facebook.

I know, I know, it's hardly an experienced and mature platform like Blogger or Livejournal, but it's got the cute factor, don't you think? I mean, there's Instant Messaging built right in, and I can do really cool things, like poking and super-poking. You've never been poked until you've been poked in Facebook, I'm telling you! Hoo-boy! And don't forget the pieces of flair, and invites to join causes, and sh*t, cause there's nothing better.

Anyway, I'm sorry, I didn't meant for anyone to get hurt, and I certainly wasn't looking around for another, but Julianna N. invited me, and well, one thing led to another, and suddenly there I was, with over a hundred friends, some of whom actually read what I write, I mean, if I were getting the kind of attention I want from Blogger or Livejournal I couldn't feel compelled to find it elsewhere, so it's not my fault.

But anyway, that's where I've been all those nights, but look, it's just a passing fancy, I mean, I'm not wedded to Facebook or anything, and I certainly hope that it doesn't mean we can't still be friends, does it? I mean, I still care alot about you guys, and I hope we can still hang out sometimes, and hey, maybe even get a little super-poking in, sometime.

What do say?

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Remembering Keith

2008-12-17T17:05:37Z

On December 17, 1981 my best friend was killed by a drunk driver. What follows is something I wrote in his honor and posted several years back, and indeed, have posted more than once, but it's important to me, so I'm re-posting, with minor revisions and corrections.

Keith and I had lived together during our freshman year in college, but I had not formed a very close friendship with him until after we had both graduated. What brought us together the summer after graduation was, of all things, soccer: Keith and I would often attend Minnesota Kicks soccer games together. I was not making much money in those days, and although I had a car, Keith was gracious enough to come pick me up, which saved me the cost of gasoline. He owned a beat-up Camaro which he drove way too fast, and I was often terrified of riding with him, but it was nice to have a friend, and a ride, and I really enjoyed spending time with him. Anyway, we became quite close and spend a great deal of time together.

Like all of us, Keith had a few rough edges, but he recognized his flaws, and was slowly working on becoming an even better person. He was generous with his time and possessions, and would likely give someone the shirt off his back, if he thought they needed it. He was a genuinely good guy.

It was mid-December of 1981, and Keith had been out of town on a winter camping trip to a nearby State Park, but had come back into town on Thursday morning, December 17th. He and I spoke by phone that afternoon and made plans to get together the next evening: he was going to stop by my place to pick me up after work, and I think we were going to go out to a movie.

That Friday night I was late getting out of work. but I ran into the downtown Dayton's to buy a Murphy's Law calendar to give Keith as a Christmas present. It seemed appropriate, since we were always joking about how everything seemed to always go wrong for us. I rushed out of the store, and barely made my bus.

NCB and I were living together at the time. I had met him the year before, when he and Keith were roommates, and we had become good friends, but things were strained at the time. NCB was already in the apartment when I got home, fixing dinner with LP, and just the sight of the two of them together made me kind of upset. I had met her first, and had tried to go out with her, but she had started dating NCB, and I'd felt (unreasonably) hurt over that. Although she had shot me down, I still really liked her, and was mad at him for dating her behind my back.

I rushed in the door and NCB told me to sit down, that he needed to speak with me about something. I told him I was in a hurry, and rushed past him into my room. I didn't want to speak with him while LP was there, but he called me back out to the living room. NCB insisted, again, that I sit down, which I finally did. He looked me in the eyes and told me, plainly, that Keith was dead. I asked him how it had happened, and he told me: Keith had been killed the night before in a car accident. I asked him if he would BS me about something like that, he said no.

Researchers and psychologists say the first two stages of grief are shock and denial. While doubtless I was in shock, I experienced no denial. I knew instantly that Keith was, in fact, gone.

It seems that on Thursday night, December 17th, Keith had gone into town to the U of M to play basketball with AR and some other friends. On his way back home, at about 9:45 p.m., he was traveling in the westbound lanes of what was then State Highway 12 in his new red Ford Fiesta when he was struck head-on by a large sedan traveling Eastbound in the same lanes, against traffic. The driver of the other vehicle was legally drunk but was not severely injured. Keith was dead on impact and, and as this happened on a slight curve, he probably never even saw what hit him. I recall hearing that the damage to Keith's car was so severe the cops could not even tell if there had been tinted glass in the vehicle.

Keith's parents paid me what I feel was a huge honor when they asked me to be one of the Pall Bearers for Keith's funeral, along with his close friend DL, Keith's cousins and Keith's brother. At a time when I felt rather lonely and friendless much of the time, and being asked to participate in the funeral in such a capacity validated one of the few friendships I had managed to establish and sustain.

It's hard to say exactly what effect that Keith's death had on me. Certainly I was saddened. That is only to be expected, but I believe it went much deeper than that. I had never fully or properly grieved my little sister's death - the one who drowned when I was nine years of age - and I suspect there are, to this day, messed-up things in my personality that are the result of unresolved grief from that event. Indeed, I have no doubt that it all contributed the separation-anxiety and the recurring bouts of depression that have plagued me most of my life, and I suppose what happened to Keith just added to all that, as I've struggled against it all to this day.

In the end, NCB and I patched up our differences over LP - well, she and he broke up - and we went on to become even closer friends. We have played a big part in each other's lives: I introduced him to the woman he married, and he was the best man in my own wedding. He and his wife are godparents to my children, and even though he lives out east now, we try to stay in touch as much as our schedules and lives allow.

For 24 years in a row NCB and I went out the Maple Plain cemetery each December to lift a Mountain Dew in a toast to the memory of our good friend, and most years we managed to squeeze in a visit with Keith's parents, as well. It's been a meaningful tradition, although in the past two or three years I've gone alone, but I've made a point of taking my cell phone and calling NCB from the site, so we can share the moment.

It's strange: for the first few years we visited the cemetery I thought people might think it morbid that we were going to his grave site like that, and I never mentioned it to anyone, let alone Keith's parents, but one day I let it slip to them that we'd been out there, and they seemed genuinely touched that anyone still remembered to do so. Keith is our fallen buddy and we remember him fondly, and his family appears to appreciate it. I go out there, then, for me, and for them.

One last note: I've come to the reasonable conclusion that it's wrong to become obsessed with death and those who have died, but I'm also of the opinion that it's equally wrong to go on with one's life without taking time to reflect and remember those who have passed. I don't consider my trips to Maple Plain's cemetery as a duty, but a privilege, and something I do to honor the memory of a dear departed friend.

I miss you, Keith, and I will miss you always.

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Tuesday AM

2008-12-16T13:36:45Z

I don't get it.

Nearly every day I think to myself that I really need to start writing here again, and nearly every day I find some reason to not do so.

Part of it is that I am busy, as in really-really busy. In the early years having kids is pretty easy, but in time they start having homework assignments, and they become harder to discipline, and it just takes time and energy. But that's not entirely true, because they take up alot of time when they are little, too. It's just different, I guess, and I find I'm more tired from it all now. Well, maybe that's because I'm older, too, and that I lack my youthful vigor and vim. Eh, who am I kidding? I never had any of that.

Part of it is that I tend to be a creature of habit, and whenever anything has become a habit for me I find I am able to do it much more easily. When I was in the habit of writing alot, it was as natural for me to write as it is to get up in the morning and do my toilette. Indeed, I couldn't *not* write, and the words seemed to flow out of me like blood from a wound, or water from a spring, depending on the day, and which metaphor I chose. Conversely, when I've not written for a while, it just becomes harder and harder to find the inspiration, or perspiration, I need to write.

Part of it is that there are times when I just lose my voice, as it were, and become mute. I simply feel like I have nothing to say, or worse, that I'm overflowing with things to say but that those things would be found loathsome or boring if I gave them expression, so I just keep them all to myself, or write them in personal journals, and don't let it out, or anyone in. And more, there are times when I feel utterly bleak, and I can't imagine that anyone wants to read about my struggles to stay away from The Dark Place, and it all ends up the same: I just don't write.

Part of it is that I have lately gotten into the whole Social Networking thing, signed up with about a half-dozen sites, all of which are interactive in a way that blogging is not. And sometimes I'll put alot of energy into that, but it's all light and very little heat, and just like the blogging, I don't get the impression anyone there is much interested in what I have to say, either. It's all about pithy little Twitter-like busts of photonic energy, never really saying anything of consequence, perhaps like a Seurat painting in that it has meaning in the aggregate, but up-close there's very little there.

And in all this I keep coming back to the blog, I suppose because it offers the narcissist in me a platform - no matter how illusory - where I can write down my thoughts, shake my rattle, do a little rain-dance, and imagine that someone reads. So I guess I'm just saying that I'm really trying, and I'll keep trying, and thanks for reading.

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This And That And The Other

2008-11-02T15:11:12Z

Okay, I'm starting this on Saturday night, and I've felt a bit weird all day, just kind of out of my element, partly because I've been coming down with a cold this past week, and partly the same-old feeling of anxiety that plagues me periodically, the kind that feels like it comes from the pit of the stomach and moves up and out of the sternum.

Yeah, that one. Never felt it? Good for you. It's not fun.

Thing is, it's strange that it's not entirely out-of-the-blue, cause there are triggers, and I know what they might be, but it's not consistent, and sometimes they set me off, and sometimes they don't - it's hit or miss, just unpredictable, really. But as I've written here so many times, when it comes crashing in there's little I can do to alleviate it other than to go for a long walk and/or just wait for it to pass, and today my foot has been hurting so much that I couldn't do the walking thing, so I'm just going to have to ride it out.

Meh.

As an aside, it's funny, I've experienced periodic trips to The Dark Place since I was quite young, and yet it wasn't until about two or three years ago that I began to be able to unravel the difference between depression and anxiety. I guess for years I'd thought it was all just the same, and when clinicians would ask me if I was experiencing one or the other, I'd always feel stupid for not knowing how to differentiate them, but now I feel stupid because I can, cause it's like talking about the weather, even having armed myself with knowledge, there's still nothing I can do about it all.

Or something

Anyway, sometimes it's depression of the bleakest kind that visits me, and sometimes it's anxiety, and sometimes it's a mix of them both, but today it's been primarily anxiety, and of course, there's no 'mother's little helper,' cause I have nothing in the cupboard that I can use in times like now, though I've wondered if I shouldn't get a script against days when I'm feeling like this, but I guess I'm just too scared of becoming dependent on using them.

(Thing is, I am self-aware enough to know I have a tendency to excessive reliance on such things, so I'd have to watch out how I'd use them. As an aside, one thing I've never understood is the recreational use of meds, just doesn't appeal to me. I guess I fear being out of control, and getting high or drunk just feels horrid to me, but Crazy Meds are supposed to make things more normal, right? I mean, that's the theory, but when an anti-depressant ends up making me feel so anxious that I feel like I'm being eaten from the inside and, about about the climb walls, there's not much fun in that, either.)

So, as I was saying, there are specific things that I know will likely trigger such episodes, but it's not always like that, cause there are times when I just sail thru events that I would have expected would leave me in a mess, and then some small and seemingly-insignificant thing, something no reasonable person should even be flustered by, will lay me low, like a blow from a lead pipe to the head.

What's going on? You really want to know? No, you don't, cause you'd look at me all weird if I told you, and besides, we barely know each other, so no, I can't reveal such things, it wouldn't be prudent, and besides, you wouldn't respect me in the morning, and you won't even respect yourself for having coerced it out of me, so no, I can't, and don't ask again. Okay, since you asked so nicely, and since I can't resist going on about my favorite topic - me - here's a sample:

*) I've really down about the seeming certainty of the outcome of the upcoming election, cause I'm horrified that we're about to elect a socio-fascist to The Presidency of our once-great nation, and I fear what he and his followers will do to those of us who dared dissent, but I'm just as fearful about what his followers will do if he's not elected, as I suspect some will actually go berserk.

*) I am in extreme pain from my messed-up left foot and as a result, couldn't get out walking today, just seems to be getting worse as the weeks pass, and my docs haven't been able to help.

*) My kitty has an injured paw and I had to take him to the vet today for xrays, which set me back nearly $400, and even though it looks like he's only got arthritis and the do was able to give me some pain meds for him, the thing is that he's getting older, nearly 14 now, and I have to think I can only expect more of the same.

*) Daughter number 2 LK is having some behavior issues in Kindergarten, and it's required additional meetings with school staff to sort it, cause even though she's delightful and lovely, she's also belligerent and disobedient, and is only likely to be more so, as years pass.

*) Daughter number 1 AE slammed the car door on my hand today, and it still really hurts.

*) I feel like I'm too much of a pisser to be capable of being a good friend, which leaves me feeling down for not being able to connect, and indeed, I seem to drive people away by my very melancholic nature, which only leaves me more so, and I keep thinking that maybe I *should* try to find some Happy Pills that would make me a bit less dark, and more enjoyable to be around, but as I've said before, Crazy Meds and I aren't very good companions, and I fear I'm just going to end up stumbling thru my days, on my own, but for an occasional visit to a head-shrinker, and I'd think I'd be used to all of it by now, but I'm not, and the very nature of my nature leaves me feeling a bit hopeless.

*) My ADD symptoms just seem to get worse with each passing year, and I'd be willing to try meds for that, but being one who suffers anxiety, the stimulant effect of most of the ADD meds is not something that does well by me, so I'm left trying to find behavioral ways of coping, and I do have some things that help, but the symptoms are never really alleviated, and there are days when I despair for being so scatter-brained, and what gets me even more is that I seemed to have passed on those genes to my daughters, like some kind of mental health version of Original Sin, and now they suffer the same curse, too.

*) The shorter days of the North American Fall and Winter Season seem to have some kind of detrimental effect on me, and even though I don't think I suffer from full-bore Seasonal Affective Disorder, the decreased sunlight hours of winter do seem to mess me up, especially since I'm less able to get out to do the things I'd like, and I must say, getting up in the dark and coming home from work in the dark are both a bit of a pain in the rear.

*) I keep being reminded in emails from my health plan that I'm overdue for a Colonoscopy, and I know that I really need to schedule one, but it feels like after having hit the magic half-century mark I've wanted to put my fingers in my ears and just go nah-nah-nah, so I haven't had the routine exams that I know I need, cause I used to have a full physical every year, and what weird is that I used to do them yearly when I was statistically too young to need them, and yet it's been almost three years since my last physical, and I know I'm way overdue, but I'm kind of scared to find out what might be wrong with me, haven't even bothered to take my blood pressure in months, as if that might possibly be even rational, let alone good.

*) I also keep putting off getting my sleep apnea issues addressed, even though I suspect that the depression and anxiety I suffer are exacerbated by that, but I've been unable to tolerate using the CPAP that was prescribed the last time I did the sleep study, and maybe if I went for a dental appliance it might give me some relief, but I know those can actually change the jawline, and that concerns me, so I just let it go and hope it gets better on its own, even though I know it won't.

*) I've been having more and more of the same old dreams at night, where I try to find and reach someone in a crowd, but can't seem to ever really see or catch up with them, even though I know there are there, cause they keep disappearing behind pillars and plants, and they are forever just out of sight and reach, which I have to take as a metaphor for how my subconscious views my waking life, and I suppose it really must be one of my deep-rooted fears, cause I always wake up from such dreams drained and in a cold sweat, feeling as if I've just been beaten up.

I'll spare you the rest for now, but there's more where all that came from, and aren't you glad you asked?

But see, if you've read this blog for a while, and/or if you know me personally, all this sounds more-than-familiar, just like some broken record, in that I've said most of this before, over and over and over again, but that really is how it feels, like I've lived my life in some kind of Groundhog Day, and I kind of envy people who are somehow manage to re-create themselves at regular intervals, and who seem to wrestle their demons into submission and who can at least throw off the appearance of not being messed up, no matter how much they might actually be, but that's just it, it's not always easy to know, cause I've been told at work that I look like I'm having a really good day when in fact I feel like I'm falling apart and on the verge of breaking down, so who really knows what lurks in the human mind and heart?

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A couple of weeks ago I took the girls to Red Wing and I mean to post photos of the places we went that day, but I keep putting it off. One of these days I'll get it together enough to post them.
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Speaking of posting, I have been linking more and more stuf on Facebook, but mostly just saving links, not writing, but it's just quick links and not essays like this, because my Facebook is read primarily to the people I know from real life, and even though some of them used to read this blog, I have to think the majority of them don't even bother to read here anymore.

Meh.

But it's just so much easier to post to Facebook, cause a lot of the news sites make it all so easy to link to their stuff, just click on 'share' and voila, a link is posted. It's nowhere near as conducive to writing out longer pieces, although it can be done and I've done it, but there isn't the flexibility, and the option to tweak it all like there is on Blogger.
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Oh yeah, I know I've mentioned it here before, but I've opened accounts on nearly all the various social networking sites, and I've been underwhelmed, cause there really isn't any that is the just The Shiznits, and indeed, every one of them is lacking in one feature, whilst being strong on another, and I still maintain that if someone can create the perfect mix of look and feel with functionality, they could clean up on the competition, cause it's all still got a bit of a Wild West feel to it.

Well, okay, I should qualify my statement just now and admit that I shouldn't even say that I've tried nearly all of them, cause there are a few I haven't tried: TBD, Linked In, Friendster and Second Life are some names that jump right out at me, although I actually did download the Second Life software the other night.

Aside from all the usual suspects, I have accounts with Multiply, which I joined at the request of a real life friend, and have never used at all, and Last, which I joined at the request of an online-only friend, but hardly ever use, and Flickr, which I've had several accounts, really, but I use them strictly for hosting photos, and not to interact.

Anyway, what's my point?

I have none, I just like to read what I write, and if I don't, I have to think nobody else will, so I write here, and post links to Facebook, and I have to admit that if it weren't for my two lovely daughters who request regularly that we go 'On Adventures,' I'd probably live the ascetic life of a hermit in his high-tech cave, ordering food and books online, downloading music and magazines from Rapidshare, and interacting with others only thru the filter of the net, and writing, and writing, and writing.
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Well, it's 1:30 in the AM, but really, the clocks set back an hour so it's really only 12:30, I guess, but I didn't sleep well at all last night, maybe four hours, just a bundle of nerves, really, anxious in the extreme about all the things I listed above.

I actually felt a bit better after having written all that down a bit ago, but now I'm feeling utterly wound up again, and I don't know if I'm going to be able to sleep much tonight, either, really. I hate that I get like this, but I did take a Benedryl just now, so maybe that will help take the edge off enough so I *can* get some sleep.

Thing is, what usually happens when things get like this is that do finally manage to sleep but it's only for three or four hours, and no more, and it will go on like that for several days until sleep deprivation catches up with me, and I will finally fall sleep and stay there for a good six hours at a stretch, and I'll feel relieved that I'm able to actually get that many hours in, only to have the whole process start again: rinse, repeat.

I must admit, I usually don't even bother talking about it, because what good does that do, and anyway, if I bring it up, others to roll their eyes, or offer platitudes and bromides intended to help, but in reality it does nothing of the kind, really.
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On a slightly-related topic, I've said this before, but I really do think I need to write more, both online and off. It's good for me, even if it does make me think, but that's just it, I do my best thinking when I'm able to write things down, in the process.

I've actually got several projects that I'm working on, including updating something I call my Memories Project, in which I'm recording events and memories of my life, a kind of autobiography, if you will, and I suppose some would find it presumptuous that I might do such a thing, but I don't esteem my writing enough to think it's even worthy of a grade-school classroom essay, really, so I'm doing it for myself, really.

The Memories Project is something that I started back in 1991 as a kind of therapy, just a record of my life and my distinct memories of things, not just events but sights, smells, sounds, that kind of thing, I guess, and there are several parts to the whole, though the main section - devoted to the over-arching story of my life - has only been updated thru maybe 1996, and needs serious revision.

Actually, it's more than just one volume, because there is a full version, which probably runs maybe 100 single-spaced pages, and there is a somewhat-sanitized version that I hope to share with my daughters someday - about 60 pages long, at present - and then here are also themed sub-sections, each of which is a somewhat more comprehensive survey of a particular area of my life, and those run into maybe 125 pages, total.

Anyway, there are large sections that need updating and revising and adding-to, and I will try to spend time this Winter doing some of that, if I can just manage to get myself to focus long enough to do that.
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Okay, now I'm sleepy. I'm going to bed.
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Well, the above was written last night, or early this AM, I actually ended up managing to get about 5 hours of sleep, with the clocks getting set back an hour, so as of today we've lost an hour of daylight in the evening, and even though it's really nice and warm today, nearly 60 degrees Fahrenheit, I'm feeling kind of angsty, like I did yesterday, and in light of that I'd wanted to take the girls out on a Nature Walk this afternoon, partly for their sake, and partly for mine. and I'd be out walking right now except for the fact that I'm on Daddy Duty this PM, but AE is being pokey about getting her homework done, and I have the notion that we aren't going to make it before dark, cause it will be dark well before 5 pm today, and anyway, I may have to go out tonight, after the girls are asleep, cause I could really use a long walk right now.

Double-Meh.
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I think that's enough for this post.

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Back to Blogizdat on Blogspot (main blog)

Meh

2008-11-01T16:16:27Z

Meh

So, we're about to hold yet another election for president in these United States, and the peoples of the world are holding their breaths, hoping and praying we do the right thing by electing their choice of Barack M. Hussein Obama to the highest office of our land.

WTH?

Look, I know this will smack of extreme arrogance and hubris but I don't really give a hoot in hades what some wine-sipping effete French pseudo-intellectual, or neo-Marxist Oxford Uni Econ professor, or power-mad Iranian Parliament President thinks or wants us to do.

No, really. I do not care what they think.

At the end of the day, it is *we* - and not some Euro Weenies - who will go to the polls to elect the fools, charlatans, con-artists, philanderers and foolish shysters who, in time-honored American Tradition, will filch from the public coffers, bend and break the laws to suit their purposes, abuse the power of their offices, and commit other sundry offenses against God and man.

And if those doggone furners don't like that, they are free to come to New York City on a tourist visa and pay some young thing to marry them for a Green Card, and then register to vote illegally, just like all the others, durnit. So, yeah, Euro Weenies: get in line!

Okay, so we're about to elect our first socialist president since FDR. How the hell did this happen?

It can't be blamed on just the granola-crunching Birkenstock-wearing former hippies, the Punk Rockers, the Hollyweird elite, and the brilliant Graydon Carter. They will always vote as far to the left as they possibly can, in every election, and who knows, might even vote Democrat, when Nader isn't running. (Wait, he *is* running this year, just isn't on the ballot in most places.)

That's the thing: it takes a massive number of the unwashed masses, the middle-of-the-roaders, the 'independents,' and even that strangest breed of American known as the 'undecided,' those sad sacks who, after all the evidence presented them from both sides, just cannot commit to anything until very the last minute.

(I don't exaggerate: I had a friend tell me that she had not decided whom to vote for in one election until she was literally inside the booth. Shame on her.)

So, how did the we get to the point where some Music Man, some Empty Suit has been able to convince significant portions of the public that he is their savior, their salvation, the very Second Coming of the Obamessiah?

Again, how the hell did this happen?

Well, to start with, George W. Bush is quite simply the most unpopular American president since Richard Milhous Nixon, and the Obama camp has pitched the McCain candidacy to the public as a referendum on the Bush years, to great effect, and millions are considering this election exactly such. What's more, we are going thru an economic crisis of massive proportions, which promises to get ever more worse. Life is scary, and dangerous, and it's at times like these when both great leaders and charlatans alike emerge from the woodwork.

Thing is, Obama has kept much of his past under wraps, such as his birth records, his college records, his health records, merely pointing the public to his memoirs, asking the public to accept his account of his past as gospel, and the media has been complicit in refusing to do the hard reporting they would do on any other candidate, and in fact, have done with the Republican ticket.

Throughout his campaign, both in the primaries and in the general, Obama has managed to say a lot about nothing, allowing his adoring audiences to project their fears and hopes and dreams onto him, while in the process pledging a little something for everyone, knowing all the while he cannot possibly deliver. And even though some of the press has actually pointed out that he is not going to be able to keep his promises, by and large this has been ignored by the fawning Obamaniacs, and by the Fourth Estate that desperately wants him to win.

On top of all of that, Obama is a amazing speaker on the stump, perhaps the greatest we've seen in a generation. He's attractive, eloquent, and tells people what they want to hear, like all great seducers of the mind and the heart. He's as good at it as they come.

Additionally, he broke a pledge to take public funding for his campaign, freeing him from the spending limits that have hobbled his opponent, and since his donations have been reportedly primarily under $200, there is no accountable record of where his hundreds of millions of dollars of funding have really come from, but anyway, he somehow managed to raise over $600 million dollars, and has outspent McCain nearly 3 to 1, carpet bombing the airwaves throughout the country with his brand of Opraesque New Age economic mumbo-jumbo, designed to leave the hoi polloi feeling good, without having a clue what was said.

Anyway, I am convinced we are about to enter a very tragic era in American politics, in which our economy will be ruined in the name of a socialist re-distributive 'fairness' - why don't left-wingers understand that you cannot tax a nation into prosperity - and our national interests will be subordinated to the whims of that of other countries whose goal is to bring us to heel, and when this coming nightmare is over, we may never recover the greatness that we once were.

To be fair, this has been ongoing, not just under Democrat administrations (remember Jimmy Carter?) but during Republican ones (Bush Senior) as well. There seems to be an inexorable move towards socialism in this country, and we have been relinquishing our sovereignty, incrementally, for decades, but a President Obama will accelerate the dismantling of the foundational values of this once-great nation.

While I am encouraged that a person of color might actually be able to be considered a serious aspirant to the Presidency of the United States, that's not a good enough reason to vote for a cipher of a man whose personal associations are suspect, whose legislative accomplishments have been next-to-nil, and whose campaign promises are either undeliverably benign, or out-and-out dangerous.

Anyway, I've been feeling rather down this past week due to several things, big and small, and this whole Obama Charade has has left me feeling a bit hopeless, and swirling around the edges of The Dark Place. I guess as we are about go through what I assume are going to be some of the most trying times this country has ever seen, I just need to again remember the paraphrased truth: to try to accept the things I cannot change, to try to change the things I can, and to try to strive for the wisdom to know the difference between them.

Shabbat Shalom.

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Back to Blogizdat on Blogspot (main blog)

This And That

2008-10-20T04:47:04Z

On Blogging:

I know I haven't written much here, recently, and I keep meaning to write more, but it's so easy to fall into Facebook/Twitter mode (yes, I have an account with both) and just post little blips of nothing to those sites, and it all seems so pedestrian, but then again, that's pretty much real life, too, innit, just a collection of meaningless events, connected by more of the same. Maybe that's why I still like blogging, cause it's only in backing away from the canvas and pondering it all that I can see how the pretty and ugly little pixels actually make up a larger picture.

Or something.

So, anyway, I'll try to write more. I promise. Yeah, know you've heard that before, but you'll see, it'll be different this time, baby. I've turned over a new leaf. I'm a new man. I've changed.

Or something.

Meh.

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On Matters Political:

It's strange, when I started this blog four years ago, it was September of the American Presidential election year, and I wrote and posted almost exclusively on political stuff for the first few months, but this time I've not written much at all on the subject.

It isn't that I don't have opinions about such things, but I just don't know that anyone gives a rat's posterior about what I think. H*ll, I'm not sure *I* even do. But I'll break with my silence, here and now, and just lay down a little something, for the record:

I am predicting a land-slide win for the Obamessiah come November, as it was foretold in the First Book of Hesitations, that 'the Elephant will stumble and fall, and the Donkey shall take assume control. Thus sayeth the Lord.'

Okay, there's still a chance that McCain could pull off a victory, but let's be honest, it's not likely, and in fact, there's about as good a chance of me winning the big lottery prize as John Mac becoming the commander-in-chief of the the armed forces of these United States. It's just not going to happen, but maybe it's not all bad.

I mean, the Annointed One's policies are more-than-socialist, and will cause great mischief and damage to this great nation, but then again, the Republicrats have had control of the White House and the Senate for years now, and have squandered that mandate, so maybe the other side should get the chance to mess things up for a while.

To be fair, in 2001 Dubyuh was handed an economy already sliding towards recession, the 9/11 attacks sort of took the wind out of the country for some time, and the whole debacle of the Bush/Gore Electoral vote fiasco hampered him, from the get-go. But other than prosecuting the Iraq and Afghanistan Wars, I'm hard-pressed to think of anything he did in his eight years that were of any real consequence, any more than I can think of anything of any real consequence that his predecessor did during *his* tenancy, other than being impeached for lying under oath to Congress about the whole Monica affair.

And lest you think otherwise, I am not one of those who thinks that it was wrong for the US to oust Saddam Hussein, and I *am* one of those who supported the troops *and* the mission. But it's also an undeniable fact that most Americans do not agree with me at present, and it's that very war - and the state of the US economy, which despite the nonsense spewed by the likes of Michael Moore, is hardly W's fault - that has so hindered McCain's efforts to gain a toehold against The Obamessiah. Well, that, and the huge numbers of first-time voters, legal and otherwise, who have been whipped into a frenzy by the Mainstream Media, which is wetting itself to see That One elected.

What scares me, and leaves me feeling very sad, is that That One is running on the Change Platform, which in some way kind of makes sense, because Liberals and Progressives honestly believe that not only is change inevitable (it is) but that they have the best solutions for effecting that change (they don't).

But see, there are millions of people who really do believe their lives will be better under a President BHO, and I fear for them when they are confronted with the reality that life goes on, and that all change isn't good, and that there are very real consequences that flow from the Big Ideas that God gave their guy on the Mountain.

So, the Republicans will hand over the keys to the White House to a Democrat for only the third time in forty years, and hopefully by becoming the opposition party the GOP will go to the wilderness to do penance for their sins of commission and omission, and as the hoi polloi become disillusioned with the failures of the new administration, the Republicans can begin their Long March Back to power. And maybe next time they will do a better job of actually remembering what they stand for: limited government, lower taxes, personal responsibility, and the right to arm bears.

Gawd, it's going be a long next four years!
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In The Keen-Sense-Of-The-Obvious Department:

Something that has struck me a lot over the past few months is the utter impermanence of everything. And yes, I mean *everything*.

In the past few months I've seen:

My job duties change, a couple co-workers die, my daughters become increasingly grown up and independent, my car break down, several close acquaintances and friends drift off, my body develop aches and pains and injuries, my hair fall out in greater amounts, my various pieces of electronic equipment stop working, my retirement accounts lose 40% of their worth, and my values being rejected in the marketplace of ideas. And that's just for starters.

It's unsettling, really, cause life feels like it's just all elusive, and slipping away, like sand thru an hour-glass, like quicksilver, and there's nothing I can do to change all that, or to anchor it all, and thing is, it's not like this is some great revelation, cause it's been like this all my life, and all of most everyone else's life, too, but see, when I was a young skullfullamush I somehow managed to buy into the fiction that I might be the exception to the rule, that there was such a thing as Eternal Youth, and BFF's, even though I knew better, I really did, but there was still the nagging notion that I might be the first person in history to beat back the odds, and never grow old.

Hah.

Yet underneath my bravado has always been a foundation of insecurity, set in place by the sudden death of my little sister when I was nine, which turned my young world on its *ss, and left a her-sized hole in my psyche. As a consequence, I guess I grew up deeply suspicious of uncertainty and change and danger, making sure to try to stay aloof, to try keep others at bay so they couldn't get close enough that I would be hurt if and when they died or moved or whatever.

Thing is, even the very act of allowing myself to enjoy life has often felt like little more than a prelude to bad things, and I suppose I've felt intuitively that steeling myself against it all will just keep it from hurting as much. Of course, throwing off that kind of vibe greatly increases the odds of the very outcome feared, and often becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, but at least I'm in some way still In Control Of Things, right?

Well, that's an illusion and delusion, cause I'm in control of virtually nothing. I mean, there *are* some things I can control, and I should strive to take ownership of them, but most of life is what happens while I'm busy making other plans, to paraphrase John Lennon, and at any time I can and will be impacted in big and small ways by anything and everything, from the cars that swarm around me on the streets and roads, to the viruses and bacteria that conspire to rob me of wellness, to the inevitable agendas of others, to the very process of aging and decay - it's all out of my control.

Hmm, parenthetically, it's just occurred to me, maybe that explains my early fascination with photography, and later video, which has stayed with me to this day, the idea that I could take a slice of the reality of any particular moment and freeze it, like an ant caught in million-year-old amber, as if somehow that heroic act of preservation would give me some small measure of control over the past, and over my future memories. And maybe that explains why I've made a habit of journaling the events of my life, writing down accounts of jobs and places and many of the people I've known.

Look, it's not something new for me, all this existential musing, nor is it new to any of the sons and daughters of Adam, and indeed, it's been part of all of human experience, something pondered by The Preacher of Ecclesiastes, by Camus, Sartre, Woody Allen, and the dudes in Pink Floyd, and in the end, I suppose every one of us has to work thru it for ourselves.

Anyway, it's something that's been rattling around in the excess space of my oversized cranial cavity a lot in recent weeks and months, and I ought to know better than to indulge myself too much of that, because it only draws me back to The Dark Places of which I've often spoken, but I'm just keeping it real, y'all.
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On How I Spent The Weekend:

I was on Daddy Duty this weekend, and I started out Thursday night feeling rather bleh and down due to a number of things, big and small, a couple of which are that I've been suffering the ravages of an infection in my left ear, and a rather nasty case of plantar fasciitis in my left foot that has left me unable to get out walking as often as I'd like, at least when it's flaring up. (I've tried to ice it, and take the NSAID's, and to rest it, but it seems to have a mind of it's own, and it attacks me as it wills, without regard for my plans or wishes or desires. Meh.)

Anyway, a number of things converged on Thursday to leave me feeling really down, and I was very not looking forward to the weekend, but since the girls had Thursday and Friday off due to some teacher conference I wouldn't even have the respite of a few hours to myself during the day, so I decided that it's like Momma used to say, if life gives you lemons, make lemonade, and I decided that if my foot weren't in too bad a shape, I'd try to make the best of it and take the girls On Adventures on Saturday.

It actually turned out better than I'd hoped.
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Friday

I got up to very little pain in my foot, relatively speaking, at least compared to the weekend before, when I'd spent the better part of Saturday and Sunday whimpering on the futon.

The morning was a bit chilly, but the weatherman promised it would get warmer The girls and I went out for breakfast to McDonald's, and then to a couple of garage sales before going out On Proper Adventures.

What did we do? Well, since you asked:

We first headed out to Hastings to the Apple Junction, a family-run apple farm that charges customers for a bag to take up and down the rows of the orchard, picking as many of the various varieties of pomme as will fit in the bag. The girls had a blast, and later took a ride on the tractor-drawn trailer thru the orchard, and wandered the corn maze, climbed the observation tower, and hung out in Playland. It was nice, and we now have a fine assortment of apples in the fridge.

After apple-ing, we drove into Hastings, had some snacks, then crossed the river to the Wisconsin side at Prescott, where we spent some time at the Great River Road Visitor Center overlooking the Mississippi River, before driving down some of the most beautiful country I've been through in a long time, down the east bank of the river, to the Red Wing crossing.

We made it to the Goodhue County Historical Society Museum by 4 PM, had just an hour before closing, and while we were there I became quite ill, the ear ache flared up, and I began feeling vertiginous, and had to sit down for a while before we could head back out.

After leaving the museum the girls were so tired and frazlled they nearly had a meltdown, but I convinced to hold on for the best part, so we drove up to the top of Soldiers Memorial Park and then back down and across to climb up Barn Bluff, where we ended up taking the nearly mile-long trail on the north side of the Bluff, which in retrospect was a big mistake, what with a five year-old in tow, and me with a touch of vertigo, because at some points the trail is barely two feet wide, and the drop is a nearly-vertical 300 to the base. It was scary for me, but thank gawd the kids weren't too spooked. Do I need to note that we came back the much easier west side? At least my foot wasn't hurting as bad as it is today.

(Some photos here, and a great shot of the west side of the the bluff here.)

Night falls quickly round these parts this time of year, and as it happens we were barely off the steps to the parking area before it was almost too dark to see. I shudder to think what would have been of us if we'd been stranded on the East Trail after dark. But all's well that ends well, I guess, and the girls pronounced it A Grand Adventure!

We had a quick supper at McDonald's - yeah, I know we started the day at Mac's, but it was a Day of Adventure, and calories were burned - and then headed back for the hour-long drive to the Twin Cities, and after a bath and bedtime snacks, the girls fell fast asleep. I however, was so wound up on caffeine and adrenaline that I wasn't able to get to sleep until nearly 3 AM.

Meh, indeed.

Saturday

After all the action on Friday, we just hung out on Saturday, didn't do much, picked up some, cleaned a bit, in the afternoon ended up driving across town to the Brazilian store to buy Guarana' and chocolates, and then went to Delicious for a very early supper, chatted with the wait staff for a good while, had pasteis, rice and beans and forofa and guarana', and then brought home flan for dessert later. It was, well, Delicious.

Sunday

Woke up a kiss on the cheek from a snuggle-bunny, five year-old LK, who is by turns adorable and exasperating, got the girls dressed and fed and to church in time for SS, afterward they played for over an hour, till everyone else had left, and I'd promised them we'd go for a walk in Reservoir Woods, but my foot kept getting worse and worse throughout the day, to the point where I could barely walk on it by later afternoon. I guess 9 year AE must not have cared too much, cause she disappeared to her friend's house next door, and didn't come back for a good 2 hours. It was the usual running around at bedtime, trying to get backpacks ready for AM, checking the homework assignments, finding the lost pair of glasses, separating the fighting daughters, video taping them hugging and laughing, reading bedtime stories, saying bedtime prayers, telling them again and again that, yes, really, they did have to go to bed. When they were babies I used to be able to get them to sleep, and have the evening to myself, but that hasn't happened in a very long time. Sigh. Then again, it's the impermanence of it all, again, because I know full-well that in a few short years they will be gone out of the nest, and I will find myself missing all the stress and headaches of dealing with them at this stage of their young lives. Oh h*ll, I miss them already.
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Okay, that ought to hold the teeming dozen who read this till next time. And thank you for reading.

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