2011-10-23
Strange Day
Today has been a bit strange.
Sleeping from around 10:30 to 7:2...4, only waking up once at night, the day began with restfulness and an ease in getting out of bed to Lucy walking in the room and making me. The usual. BB's wordless demands usually wake me up, and Lucy comes in to do the rest with worded demands.
Doing some random cleaning of piles of papers and mail, I found this card my father sent to Megan after BB was born. It was really sweet. It made me happy that my parents family is so down with my immediate family. Namely, with Megan. They're all about her. It's great. They've never had a problem with her. They probably see her as really good for me.
So I wrote my parents a letter. I haven't done that in a raccoon's age. Purple pen on two pieces of Lucy-colored-on invoice paper (or something--lines on them in columns) from Megan's work. I wrote my words in the columns. It was cool to think they'd actually get to see some of my handwriting.
My generation relies on electronic communications so much more than my parents'. When we're the middle-aged generation, approaching our 60's, ... I don't even want to think about that. Technology will be so much more advanced. A guest speaker in my Writing for Mass Comm class said something that got me started thinking about this the past few weeks:
"I think we're gonna see some serious Blade Runner type stuff in the near future."
Second weird thing--BB hasn't taken a nap yet and it's 10:48. I gave up trying and am now going to give her the second bottle she usually gets around this time. See ya. Pictures? Yes.
Shoot. This is my new MacBook Air 13' screen awesome new computer and all my pictures are on my other computer and my phone charger, which has the cable I need to put phone pics on my computer, I left at Justin's house yesterday cause I can't find it right now and it must be over there and that's the last place I remember seeing it.
Bye bye.
Sleeping from around 10:30 to 7:2...4, only waking up once at night, the day began with restfulness and an ease in getting out of bed to Lucy walking in the room and making me. The usual. BB's wordless demands usually wake me up, and Lucy comes in to do the rest with worded demands.
Doing some random cleaning of piles of papers and mail, I found this card my father sent to Megan after BB was born. It was really sweet. It made me happy that my parents family is so down with my immediate family. Namely, with Megan. They're all about her. It's great. They've never had a problem with her. They probably see her as really good for me.
So I wrote my parents a letter. I haven't done that in a raccoon's age. Purple pen on two pieces of Lucy-colored-on invoice paper (or something--lines on them in columns) from Megan's work. I wrote my words in the columns. It was cool to think they'd actually get to see some of my handwriting.
My generation relies on electronic communications so much more than my parents'. When we're the middle-aged generation, approaching our 60's, ... I don't even want to think about that. Technology will be so much more advanced. A guest speaker in my Writing for Mass Comm class said something that got me started thinking about this the past few weeks:
"I think we're gonna see some serious Blade Runner type stuff in the near future."
Second weird thing--BB hasn't taken a nap yet and it's 10:48. I gave up trying and am now going to give her the second bottle she usually gets around this time. See ya. Pictures? Yes.
Shoot. This is my new MacBook Air 13' screen awesome new computer and all my pictures are on my other computer and my phone charger, which has the cable I need to put phone pics on my computer, I left at Justin's house yesterday cause I can't find it right now and it must be over there and that's the last place I remember seeing it.
Bye bye.
2011-10-21
Metal Occurrence
I've been meaning to blog more lately, and the reason I haven't is not for lack of something to say. It's just that I've been in school!
Yes, that's right faithfuls, the ol' post-high school education. The ol' continuing ed. At night. (Voice actor who's a man and has soothing deep, slightly rough/scratchy voice) You see, we're a little different than your average morning class-taking student. We're a little older; a little wiser; and a whole lot more dedicated.
(end irritating voice--replace with Dolly Parton) Yeah! Totally!
(end Dolly) So yeah, I've had things to write about like, all day yesterday and this morning too, but now I'm having a hard time remembering. Ain't it always like that.
Here's one (not kid-related):
Yesterday, I'm walking around campus, and this guy who's wearing a bunch of metal clothes tells me I look awesome and gives me the low five/hand shake that metal guys are good at. It was awesome.
He was among this roughly 50-strong group of headband-sporting youngsters who I assume were students. The majority of them were standing on lower ground, at the base of some stairs at Red Square, in front of whatever that auditorium is that's sorta between Odegaard and Suzzallo libraries. My man and a handful of others, dressed similarly in metal-ish gear, were standing at the top of the steps. One of them was addressing the larger crowd. Something was about to take place.
My man who spoke to me was the most metal of the handful, but in a different way than I. He was wearing this sleeveless jean jacket, modded with metal studs, a new-school Megadeth t-shirt peeking out, headband tied around mop of red hair, and had the long red beard of a young man who really wanted to grow a beard as soon as he was able to grow a beard.
(I'm listening to Rust in Peace Live right now--brutal. Take No Prisoners fucking rules.)
He said something like, "You look awesome dude, totally metal."
"Thanks, man! So do you. Megadeth is my favorite band."
Commence conversation about new album coming out and general Megadeth/Mustaine talk. Other kid joins in--short mop of greasy black hair, clean cut, black headband, black sweater, greenish pants, black shoes.
Apparently the thing going on that all the students were gathered for was a zombie attack. The metal kids were zombies, the others were... uh, not. Zombies. Can't remember what ginger boy said. So the metal/black/scary clothes were supposed to represent zombie appearance. Okay. At least some ppl got to dress blatantly, almost sillily metal.
I was wearing my black leather jacket, black jeans, black shoes, hair down, black Manhattan Portage laptop bag on my back. Ready to kill. He liked how I looked. It was really nice to hear, from one metal dude to another.
I swear, metal dudes are the friendliest. We go through enough pain and suffering in our heads that to meet another one is like a breath of fresh air. No one else understands.
Okay, but, other kid. There was the other kid who joined our conversation. I ask them, "So who's a really metal bassist and drummer that wants to join my band?"
Ginger points to CleanCut. Apparently CleanCut, who's mannerisms reminded me of Paul Rudd's character from Wet Hot American Summer, 'can play bass like a motherfucker,' but is 'first and foremost a singer.' He's not into black metal as much as the thrash style. Really into Megadeth, too. Told the two dudes the name of my band. They both liked it. But they also knew I was way more metal than either of them could handle in a day.
I was gonna trade contact info with CleanCutRudd, but the person addressing the crowd was getting everyone ready to start the zombie thing. CleanCutRudd walks away without getting any of my contact info, nor did I receive any of his.
Somehow I don't think it's gonna matter.
Yes, that's right faithfuls, the ol' post-high school education. The ol' continuing ed. At night. (Voice actor who's a man and has soothing deep, slightly rough/scratchy voice) You see, we're a little different than your average morning class-taking student. We're a little older; a little wiser; and a whole lot more dedicated.
(end irritating voice--replace with Dolly Parton) Yeah! Totally!
(end Dolly) So yeah, I've had things to write about like, all day yesterday and this morning too, but now I'm having a hard time remembering. Ain't it always like that.
Here's one (not kid-related):
Yesterday, I'm walking around campus, and this guy who's wearing a bunch of metal clothes tells me I look awesome and gives me the low five/hand shake that metal guys are good at. It was awesome.
He was among this roughly 50-strong group of headband-sporting youngsters who I assume were students. The majority of them were standing on lower ground, at the base of some stairs at Red Square, in front of whatever that auditorium is that's sorta between Odegaard and Suzzallo libraries. My man and a handful of others, dressed similarly in metal-ish gear, were standing at the top of the steps. One of them was addressing the larger crowd. Something was about to take place.
My man who spoke to me was the most metal of the handful, but in a different way than I. He was wearing this sleeveless jean jacket, modded with metal studs, a new-school Megadeth t-shirt peeking out, headband tied around mop of red hair, and had the long red beard of a young man who really wanted to grow a beard as soon as he was able to grow a beard.
(I'm listening to Rust in Peace Live right now--brutal. Take No Prisoners fucking rules.)
He said something like, "You look awesome dude, totally metal."
"Thanks, man! So do you. Megadeth is my favorite band."
Commence conversation about new album coming out and general Megadeth/Mustaine talk. Other kid joins in--short mop of greasy black hair, clean cut, black headband, black sweater, greenish pants, black shoes.
Apparently the thing going on that all the students were gathered for was a zombie attack. The metal kids were zombies, the others were... uh, not. Zombies. Can't remember what ginger boy said. So the metal/black/scary clothes were supposed to represent zombie appearance. Okay. At least some ppl got to dress blatantly, almost sillily metal.
I was wearing my black leather jacket, black jeans, black shoes, hair down, black Manhattan Portage laptop bag on my back. Ready to kill. He liked how I looked. It was really nice to hear, from one metal dude to another.
I swear, metal dudes are the friendliest. We go through enough pain and suffering in our heads that to meet another one is like a breath of fresh air. No one else understands.
Okay, but, other kid. There was the other kid who joined our conversation. I ask them, "So who's a really metal bassist and drummer that wants to join my band?"
Ginger points to CleanCut. Apparently CleanCut, who's mannerisms reminded me of Paul Rudd's character from Wet Hot American Summer, 'can play bass like a motherfucker,' but is 'first and foremost a singer.' He's not into black metal as much as the thrash style. Really into Megadeth, too. Told the two dudes the name of my band. They both liked it. But they also knew I was way more metal than either of them could handle in a day.
I was gonna trade contact info with CleanCutRudd, but the person addressing the crowd was getting everyone ready to start the zombie thing. CleanCutRudd walks away without getting any of my contact info, nor did I receive any of his.
Somehow I don't think it's gonna matter.
2011-10-18
that black metal babysitting video that's really old now
http://youtu.be/ydHMU05BknE (link to same video on YouTube if it doesn't play above)
Need I say more? And oh yeah, the song's by Leviathan. My fire of love is stoked. Leviathan rules your face, I don't care what you say.
Additionally, for a laugh, read the 3rd sentence in this write-up of his double disc collection, "Verrater." The " ... forest Lords of Norway ... " part. Trust me.
2011-10-17
The Lesson
I thought I was going to be doing something nice for Lucy. It wasn't for BB's benefit. What it turned out to be was a scarring, scary, cold event.
Today, thru determination, I actually took Lucy to the park. We haven't been going for a long time. Since school began and ... well, since before that, as well, like when BB was born, I haven't had as much time and energy. Sometimes it's cause I'm being a lazy douchebag, but sometimes it's because I'm sincerely lazy.
No, but seriously, a baby and a toddler are a lot of fucking work. Jimminy Christmas I never have time to sit down anymore. I can't wait till they're older. I love my babies, but I can't wait till I don't have to wipe their asses anymore.
Recently Lucy got a bike. That in and of itself is an interesting story, but for now we'll just say it was donated. But her legs are too short, and her mind is too underdeveloped, to get how to pedal it. So, lucky for me, it's got a long handle on the back, which turns and acts like a steering wheel.
I hadn't taken her outside since we picked the thing up, so the logistics of it are still a learning process. Today I tried carrying BB, diaper bag on my back, and pushing Lucy in the bike. That got pretty tiresome by the time we actually got to the center of Cowen Park.
Okay, here comes the brutal blood and pain. I gave her one last push up the hill, onto the grass with the circular concrete sun dial outer perimeter sidewalk. It was a way-too-hard push. Oh God to think back on it makes me cringe. I can still see it clearly.
The bike lunged forward and tipped over and she fell off, right onto the sidewalk, right onto her face. It was bad.
Dada was a bad dad.
I went to get her up and she had these five pretty bad scrapes on the back of her left hand. The poor girl. She was scared and in pain and crying and had dirt all over wounds. I couldn't embrace her properly cause of my zippery leather jacket and I had BB in my left arm, just watching and sucking on her coat, soaking it.
Her cheek had a red bruise on it. Covered more surface area, but was less deep than the hand scrapes. Goddamit. I hurt my daughter during what was supposed to be a trip to make her, specifically, happy.
I got her cleaned up, much to her chagrin, and she started going towards the swings. She was really shaken.
A mom, a doppleganger of my communications class lecturer, showed up with her daughter. She was a talker, and we started talking. I liked her. Then a park worker dude showed up with a leaf blower. Big noise--big scary for Lucy. She was crying and coming over to me and looking generally very uncomfortable.
Then dude pulled out a lawn edger thing that you push around like a lawnmover and makes a hideous noise. It scared her more than the leaf blower. Lucy eventually starts to freak out, and the park trip gets cut short.
Oh well.
The lesson: don't push your daughter so hard on her bike, dumbass, she'll fall off and get hurt and you'll hate yourself.
Today, thru determination, I actually took Lucy to the park. We haven't been going for a long time. Since school began and ... well, since before that, as well, like when BB was born, I haven't had as much time and energy. Sometimes it's cause I'm being a lazy douchebag, but sometimes it's because I'm sincerely lazy.
No, but seriously, a baby and a toddler are a lot of fucking work. Jimminy Christmas I never have time to sit down anymore. I can't wait till they're older. I love my babies, but I can't wait till I don't have to wipe their asses anymore.
Recently Lucy got a bike. That in and of itself is an interesting story, but for now we'll just say it was donated. But her legs are too short, and her mind is too underdeveloped, to get how to pedal it. So, lucky for me, it's got a long handle on the back, which turns and acts like a steering wheel.
I hadn't taken her outside since we picked the thing up, so the logistics of it are still a learning process. Today I tried carrying BB, diaper bag on my back, and pushing Lucy in the bike. That got pretty tiresome by the time we actually got to the center of Cowen Park.
Okay, here comes the brutal blood and pain. I gave her one last push up the hill, onto the grass with the circular concrete sun dial outer perimeter sidewalk. It was a way-too-hard push. Oh God to think back on it makes me cringe. I can still see it clearly.
The bike lunged forward and tipped over and she fell off, right onto the sidewalk, right onto her face. It was bad.
Dada was a bad dad.
I went to get her up and she had these five pretty bad scrapes on the back of her left hand. The poor girl. She was scared and in pain and crying and had dirt all over wounds. I couldn't embrace her properly cause of my zippery leather jacket and I had BB in my left arm, just watching and sucking on her coat, soaking it.
Her cheek had a red bruise on it. Covered more surface area, but was less deep than the hand scrapes. Goddamit. I hurt my daughter during what was supposed to be a trip to make her, specifically, happy.
I got her cleaned up, much to her chagrin, and she started going towards the swings. She was really shaken.
A mom, a doppleganger of my communications class lecturer, showed up with her daughter. She was a talker, and we started talking. I liked her. Then a park worker dude showed up with a leaf blower. Big noise--big scary for Lucy. She was crying and coming over to me and looking generally very uncomfortable.
Then dude pulled out a lawn edger thing that you push around like a lawnmover and makes a hideous noise. It scared her more than the leaf blower. Lucy eventually starts to freak out, and the park trip gets cut short.
Oh well.
The lesson: don't push your daughter so hard on her bike, dumbass, she'll fall off and get hurt and you'll hate yourself.
2011-10-12
This is a writing workshop in my UW class, COM 359 Writing for Mass Media.
Prompt: "Once upon a time there was a"
"Once upon a time there was a" shitload of turds just sitting there on the doorstep. Little did the homeowner know that it was encased in a flaming bag.
So one thing that happened today that I didn't have time to write about before (see last entry)--I'm walking past Roosevelt High School with Lucy and BB, on 12th Ave NE. Lucy was picking the direction we were taking, as I'd ask her at every intersection which way she wanted to go. She always has a direction in mind, pointing there and saying, "Tha way."
Today she pointed us up north from our apartment. We live on 12th. When we get up to the school, there are students pouring out onto the sidewalks. Lucy, of course, wants to walk right into the sidewalk they're pouring out of. I suggest we go to the big track/soccer/field/green oval. So we do that; we walk around there, and as we get to the other side, we can either go right to the street and somewhere else, or left towards the doors leading inside the school, and more kids hanging out outside and stuff.
I learn later that it's their lunch break. Lucy really liked being around all the big kids, I think. She actually wanted to go inside the school at one point, and I held the door open for her, navigating BB's stroller around it and myself, and then she doesn't want to go in. Probably a good thing.
Okay, the thing I'm getting to--we walk back to the street. We continue north, and get to the Roosevelt Pea Patch, what looks like a community garden. We walk thru there, and then turn around and head south, homeways.
Crossing past the school again, there are students pouring back into it. So, from the QFC across the street, there's about 15 kids crossing. One of them, a boy in a gray hoodie, sits down in the street, facing the lone car that's approaching. Meanwhile, other people were walking past and kinda surrounding them. It's not a crosswalk, mind you. So the car naturally has to slow down to let these idiots past, and this kid is just sitting there, just for the attention. I guess. He gets up and crosses before too many more seconds pass.
Hate. Teenagers.
The cruel justice/truth of it all is that we all have to go thru that. But I can narrow down the type of teenager I am repelled by--asshole boy teenagers. Girls I can usually deal with, if they want anything to do with me, that is.
Writing workshop over.
Prompt: "Once upon a time there was a"
"Once upon a time there was a" shitload of turds just sitting there on the doorstep. Little did the homeowner know that it was encased in a flaming bag.
So one thing that happened today that I didn't have time to write about before (see last entry)--I'm walking past Roosevelt High School with Lucy and BB, on 12th Ave NE. Lucy was picking the direction we were taking, as I'd ask her at every intersection which way she wanted to go. She always has a direction in mind, pointing there and saying, "Tha way."
Today she pointed us up north from our apartment. We live on 12th. When we get up to the school, there are students pouring out onto the sidewalks. Lucy, of course, wants to walk right into the sidewalk they're pouring out of. I suggest we go to the big track/soccer/field/green oval. So we do that; we walk around there, and as we get to the other side, we can either go right to the street and somewhere else, or left towards the doors leading inside the school, and more kids hanging out outside and stuff.
I learn later that it's their lunch break. Lucy really liked being around all the big kids, I think. She actually wanted to go inside the school at one point, and I held the door open for her, navigating BB's stroller around it and myself, and then she doesn't want to go in. Probably a good thing.
Okay, the thing I'm getting to--we walk back to the street. We continue north, and get to the Roosevelt Pea Patch, what looks like a community garden. We walk thru there, and then turn around and head south, homeways.
Crossing past the school again, there are students pouring back into it. So, from the QFC across the street, there's about 15 kids crossing. One of them, a boy in a gray hoodie, sits down in the street, facing the lone car that's approaching. Meanwhile, other people were walking past and kinda surrounding them. It's not a crosswalk, mind you. So the car naturally has to slow down to let these idiots past, and this kid is just sitting there, just for the attention. I guess. He gets up and crosses before too many more seconds pass.
Hate. Teenagers.
The cruel justice/truth of it all is that we all have to go thru that. But I can narrow down the type of teenager I am repelled by--asshole boy teenagers. Girls I can usually deal with, if they want anything to do with me, that is.
Writing workshop over.
there's no time
Well, about five or six times today, something happened that I thought would be sweet to write about here at the Dadhood. But I forgot them all.
Perhaps if I begin from the end I'll, remember my way to the front. Oh, fuck it, it's time to study.
2011-10-05
I, uh.... Neil Young, Le Noise review?
Basically I've had a Neil Young type of morning.
His album Le Noise was in my stereo when I pushed play this morning, for to have the accompaniments of musics while I did little girl cleaning-up-after duties and indulged in playing-with privileges.
Who loves ya, kids?
I started watching this cause I was looking for Neil Young videos from Le Noise. I subscribed to his YouTube page, and this was the first video that automatically played, and I was refilling my coffee and doing some light cleaning in the kitchen while it played. Ended up watching the whole thing. Pretty cheesy, but whattaya gonna do. Go Neil.
"WITH ABOUT 62 OF THE MOST LEGENDARY MUSICIANS OF ALL TIME (BOOM & SWISH SOUND EFFECT AND ZOOM IN THE WORDS)"
Here's a link to a YouTube video of one of my favorite songs from Le Noise, "Love and War."
Neil Young - "Love and War" video
I like the song for the lyrics more than the music, but he plays that acoustic guitar really well. The Spanish- or Mexican-sounding fills and light solos are really cool. But the lyrics do it for me the most, which is different for me. I usually pay way more attention to the musicianship of a piece of music, because that's what I'm into.
In this way I may lose the overall feel of the music. You know, that feeling you get when you just let it wash over you. But I don't like to let music affect me in that way, because, with most popular media, it's a trick. That's why I love underground music--they don't bother with flourishes--
Digression.
Personal stories always make me happy, too. He uses the song to talk about his life. He uses the whole album to talk about his life. And no band accompaniment, either. Just him--guitars and voice. Humble. Honest. Gritty. Minimalist. Closer to the earth than the sky. My cup of tea.
His album Le Noise was in my stereo when I pushed play this morning, for to have the accompaniments of musics while I did little girl cleaning-up-after duties and indulged in playing-with privileges.
Who loves ya, kids?
I started watching this cause I was looking for Neil Young videos from Le Noise. I subscribed to his YouTube page, and this was the first video that automatically played, and I was refilling my coffee and doing some light cleaning in the kitchen while it played. Ended up watching the whole thing. Pretty cheesy, but whattaya gonna do. Go Neil.
"WITH ABOUT 62 OF THE MOST LEGENDARY MUSICIANS OF ALL TIME (BOOM & SWISH SOUND EFFECT AND ZOOM IN THE WORDS)"
Here's a link to a YouTube video of one of my favorite songs from Le Noise, "Love and War."
Neil Young - "Love and War" video
I like the song for the lyrics more than the music, but he plays that acoustic guitar really well. The Spanish- or Mexican-sounding fills and light solos are really cool. But the lyrics do it for me the most, which is different for me. I usually pay way more attention to the musicianship of a piece of music, because that's what I'm into.
In this way I may lose the overall feel of the music. You know, that feeling you get when you just let it wash over you. But I don't like to let music affect me in that way, because, with most popular media, it's a trick. That's why I love underground music--they don't bother with flourishes--
Digression.
Personal stories always make me happy, too. He uses the song to talk about his life. He uses the whole album to talk about his life. And no band accompaniment, either. Just him--guitars and voice. Humble. Honest. Gritty. Minimalist. Closer to the earth than the sky. My cup of tea.
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