Don't let this happen to you!
De-friend your parents on Facebook before it's
TOO LATE!!!
First, this will happen! (skip to the end, sorry about white-on-light-blue formatting):
Then, this!:
2011-07-25
Lucy's Maynard preferences
Lucy was sitting with me on the couch a few minutes ago. We were reading The New Baby, by Mercer Mayer. She loves the book. It was a present from my aunt and uncle when Beatrix was born.
We'd read thru the book twice already, and were just looking at the pictures and identifying objects and such, and I got a hankering for some music. My laptop was sitting open in front of me, cause I've been digesting some Facebook ridiculousness this morning, and I put two songs on my Windows Media Player playlist, both Maynard-fronted songs: Orestes, by A Perfect Circle, and Crawl Away, by Tool (both track five on their respective albums).
Orestes is a perfect rainy day song. Today is really grey, and we actually heard thunder around 8 a.m., but no rain. Weird. The song was good for Lucy; I could tell she liked it. She got goosebumps and got really calm. I was hugging her and she had her pacifier in her mouth. It was pretty precious.
Then Crawl Away came on and she started swaying side to side, essentially dancing to the rockin Tool! It made me so proud. Liking the old-school Tool better than the slightly newer-school APC. That's fuckin a right. That's my rockin girl.
We'd read thru the book twice already, and were just looking at the pictures and identifying objects and such, and I got a hankering for some music. My laptop was sitting open in front of me, cause I've been digesting some Facebook ridiculousness this morning, and I put two songs on my Windows Media Player playlist, both Maynard-fronted songs: Orestes, by A Perfect Circle, and Crawl Away, by Tool (both track five on their respective albums).
Orestes is a perfect rainy day song. Today is really grey, and we actually heard thunder around 8 a.m., but no rain. Weird. The song was good for Lucy; I could tell she liked it. She got goosebumps and got really calm. I was hugging her and she had her pacifier in her mouth. It was pretty precious.
Then Crawl Away came on and she started swaying side to side, essentially dancing to the rockin Tool! It made me so proud. Liking the old-school Tool better than the slightly newer-school APC. That's fuckin a right. That's my rockin girl.
2011-07-22
Situation time
There is so much new happening with Lucy and Beatrix all the time that I'd never have time to write it all down.
So I'd better get started.
Okay. Now that it's time to write I can't remember anything.
Obviously I'd better come back to this later.
Ok! Remember time.
Naptime is sacred! Really bad timing.
Lucy was fine with not napping the usual 2+ hours. When the night was drawing to an end, however, even though she had a long park trip and a short nap, she was bursting with energy. Whining at not getting more Diego on Netflix instant. Making a big deal about not being able to have her pacifier until bed. "Eeeh. Eeh." Really whiny-like. Drives Megan and I up a wall. Then she threw her usual tantrum when it was time to pick up her toys. Full-on wails. Fake wails.
Is this what they mean by The Terrible Twos?
Construction noise close to home hits close to home with me, because in the last place Megan and I were renting, which is one block away from where we currently live, a big, rectangle brick building with cookie-cutter apartments and a bad smell, the apartment directly above us was being renovated for six weeks while Lucy was less than one year old. We had to get out of there. Luckily we found this much better place, in eyeshot of the last, quickly. Moving took three hours, with professional help.
Our current landlord is currently in talks with us about the possibility of switching units. His is bigger and has more space for Lucy to run around. A big dining room, big living room, and bigger kitchen, with (my dream for the last few years:) a double-basin kitchen sink, with windows behind it. Will make washing dishes much more pleasurable.
We'll see. If it does go through, it'll be an even easier move than the last, which I definitely didn't expect would happen. With the second kid, we could use the space.
Lately in my free time I've been playing Resident Evil 5. Mostly online against other players worldwide. It's pretty awesome. I'm getting a lot of practice. I don't play it when Lucy's awake, cause it's so bloody (unless I'm in the middle of a game and she wakes up from her nap--what am I supposed to do, stop?), but I imagine Megan's getting sick of seeing it. Something about the pure amount of bloodshed is really pleasing to me lately.
Probably cause I lost my job about a month ago and it's depressing as hell. yeah that's probably why. it's a monkey that's always on my shoulder. Can't get it off lately.
So I'd better get started.
Okay. Now that it's time to write I can't remember anything.
Obviously I'd better come back to this later.
Ok! Remember time.
Earlier in the morning today, from 10 to 11:45, Lucy and I were at Sandpoint park. Having a great time. Yesterday she didn't get a park trip, so she needed a big good one today. She didn't want to leave when I did. Sometimes she does.
So we come back and the neighbors have some tree-cutter-downer guys over, complete with a bunch of chainsaws and a huge truck that grinds up branches and wood and junk, and proceed to cut down some trees in their yard. Said trees were really close to our house.
We live in the city and our houses are crunched together. The noise was literally just outside our doors and windows. Fucking loud. Necessary, though. One tree that got cut down was an incessantly annoying one that dropped dingleberries on our steps and made them slippery during the rainy winters.
NOT ANYMORE, DINGLEBERRIES~!
At one point, there was a guy on our porch, just outside my front door, doing tree-cutting-down business, I assume. Not much privacy today.
At one point, there was a guy on our porch, just outside my front door, doing tree-cutting-down business, I assume. Not much privacy today.
All this noise scaring the crap out of Lucy, which is nobody's fault, just annoying. She did manage to fall asleep to the noise, in her room with the fan on high and the windows and blinds closed. But less than one hour later, the noise woke her up!
Naptime is sacred! Really bad timing.
Lucy was fine with not napping the usual 2+ hours. When the night was drawing to an end, however, even though she had a long park trip and a short nap, she was bursting with energy. Whining at not getting more Diego on Netflix instant. Making a big deal about not being able to have her pacifier until bed. "Eeeh. Eeh." Really whiny-like. Drives Megan and I up a wall. Then she threw her usual tantrum when it was time to pick up her toys. Full-on wails. Fake wails.
Is this what they mean by The Terrible Twos?
Construction noise close to home hits close to home with me, because in the last place Megan and I were renting, which is one block away from where we currently live, a big, rectangle brick building with cookie-cutter apartments and a bad smell, the apartment directly above us was being renovated for six weeks while Lucy was less than one year old. We had to get out of there. Luckily we found this much better place, in eyeshot of the last, quickly. Moving took three hours, with professional help.
Our current landlord is currently in talks with us about the possibility of switching units. His is bigger and has more space for Lucy to run around. A big dining room, big living room, and bigger kitchen, with (my dream for the last few years:) a double-basin kitchen sink, with windows behind it. Will make washing dishes much more pleasurable.
We'll see. If it does go through, it'll be an even easier move than the last, which I definitely didn't expect would happen. With the second kid, we could use the space.
Lately in my free time I've been playing Resident Evil 5. Mostly online against other players worldwide. It's pretty awesome. I'm getting a lot of practice. I don't play it when Lucy's awake, cause it's so bloody (unless I'm in the middle of a game and she wakes up from her nap--what am I supposed to do, stop?), but I imagine Megan's getting sick of seeing it. Something about the pure amount of bloodshed is really pleasing to me lately.
Probably cause I lost my job about a month ago and it's depressing as hell. yeah that's probably why. it's a monkey that's always on my shoulder. Can't get it off lately.
2011-07-08
New! GK has 2 new products on the shelves, each 1 of a kind!
Sales pitchThe little one ain't crying so much anymore. She's getting bigger. Still puking. But can lay by herself more often without crying. Waving her arms around and experimenting with movement on its basest levels. She smiles more often now and makes cooing sounds. It's the sweetest thing, little cutie she is.
The bigger one is learning how to behave and she's naughty and nice. Loves television. Experimenting with how much she can get away with. Newest development: tantrums around bedtime are back.
Both are available for sale through my accredited wholesaler Glenn's Kids.
2011-07-02
2011-07-01
I"M IN TEH WAINTING ROOM RA RA RA RA RA RAAAAA
(written a few days ago at the car place. not directly fatherhood-related.)
Reading some older material that I wrote, stored on my computer, wasting miniscule hard drive space, I realize that as little as a few years ago I was a good deal less mature than I am now. I used stupid flair-type writing devices like oDdLy SpAceD CapITol letters. The style of my old writings is immature. Somehow I don’t know how anyone less than 23 can even get along in college. I don’t know how I ever did. Teenagers and young 20-somethings possess a sort of blank survival skill. A blind will to get along in the world, and to jump through hoops without comprehending the vast machinations that make up those hoops.
Example. I was writing for publications. Sometimes I wrote incriminating, accusatory articles. (I’m watching my accusatory nature now that I’ve been fired for it) I used empty arguments to support my hastily-made points. I suppose this is the nature of youthful writing: to not fully see the weight of the very concepts one is writing of. The purpose of youthful writing is, to the youthful writer, not towards social change, but of catharsis. Of letting out demons. Of self satisfaction. Of feeling alive. Of the selfishness that Rand spoke so highly of. It’s very important from a psychological perspective, but other readers gain nothing.
When one gets older, it’s time, as my dad says, to sit at the grown-up table and stop acting like a kid. He says even 40-year-olds tend to hang on to that kind of outlook and those childish tendencies. Humans really are slow to learn. By learning, I don’t mean the stark memorization of facts, but of understanding how the human condition relates to what is actually happening. True learning is a time-intensive process. It cannot happen quickly. Many, many times do I need to learn the same lessons in order to stop making the same mistakes.
What am I writing this for. I’m imagining myself as Camus, writing what he feels, creating what people call existentialism just by purging his thoughts onto paper. I am not a philosopher. I am a guitarist. I am a songsmith. Perception of sound is my strong point; perception of perception is my weak one.
A woman in a black dress and heels and really yellow curled hair just walked by very slowly. She could be in her 50s or 60s. She is tall. A waft of perfume followed her. She struck me. I only saw the back of her. She walked stiffly, as if she might fall apart at the slightest bump, as if she was hastily glued together.
When I was talking to a man named Shelton, a consultant here, I caught a glimpse of a bit of flirting between another consultant named Faustina and a customer. Both middle aged. Both cute. Faustina is tall and the woman is short. They’re both standing with a little counter-desk between them. They’re not that far apart. In fact they’re standing comfortably close to, and facing, one another.
Her head is down and she’s signing some paper on a clipboard. He’s standing above her, looking down. He wears a contented, subtly excited smile. He’s a calm guy, I can tell, but I could also tell he was horny. I mean, you’re horny when you’re flirting, right? Everybody gets this way. It’s exciting to flirt. This is not me incriminating anyone. The sight was rather attractive.
As she’s signing, she distractedly says, “My daughter needs … a ride to [somewhere].”
Faustina just continues looking at her. She turns her face up to him, smiling at his lack of response. They both know his silence, coupled with the smile, is a way of saying, 'Yes, that is procedure. And you are right to ask, but I'm gonna make you ask me again so I can hear your voice more.'
They're both still smiling. She looks up at him and says, “Is that gonna be okay?”
“Hm?” He's loving this.
“Is that gonna be okay?”
“Well, sure. Yeah.” They’re both smiling at each other, looking at each other's faces. Her eyes have makeup on them and she looks really pretty in a plain, modern mom way. Straight, dishwater blonde hair with blonde highlights down to her shoulders. Her face was shining, as was his. It was subtle flirting. It was innocent. It was beautiful. “Yeah, that’s gonna be okay,” Faustina says.
She turns her head back down, still smiling. Writes something or other on the paper. That was the end of what I saw of it. I had to turn back to my man Shelton to continue our business transaction.
80s movies contain too much sexism.
I might possibly work for Teal at Todd’s daycare tomorrow. From 8 to 4. I’ll have been a busy bee. Just called Megan. She’s at home with the girls, vacuuming. Freaking Lucy out. It’s good for her.
I think it’s time to take a walk and call Ian.
“Hm?” He's loving this.
“Is that gonna be okay?”
“Well, sure. Yeah.” They’re both smiling at each other, looking at each other's faces. Her eyes have makeup on them and she looks really pretty in a plain, modern mom way. Straight, dishwater blonde hair with blonde highlights down to her shoulders. Her face was shining, as was his. It was subtle flirting. It was innocent. It was beautiful. “Yeah, that’s gonna be okay,” Faustina says.
She turns her head back down, still smiling. Writes something or other on the paper. That was the end of what I saw of it. I had to turn back to my man Shelton to continue our business transaction.
80s movies contain too much sexism.
I might possibly work for Teal at Todd’s daycare tomorrow. From 8 to 4. I’ll have been a busy bee. Just called Megan. She’s at home with the girls, vacuuming. Freaking Lucy out. It’s good for her.
I think it’s time to take a walk and call Ian.
(This is where the narrative ends. I did end up working for Todd's daycare. It was awesome.)
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