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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Gau! Gau's journey!

New shiny! phone, in the process of getting shiny shiny! laptop, and getting treasure! at new University (classes begin today). Two new uaooooo!s I found on the Veldt, who look like me. Big new directions.

So let me talk about the day before yesterday. (aaand cue fanfare music)


My mission: after woman of special interest who is special and a lady got home from work, I was gonna take the bus to school with my shiny shiny! bus pass (that I paid for unchoicegivenly with my Student Services and Activities Fee), find out where my classes are going to be held so I'm not looking around on the day of classes and getting myself late, and then take a bus to dim dim University Village to go visit the Apple store and buy a MacBook. (yay financial aid)

In a more summary nutshell:
1. Find out where classes are.
2. Go to Apple store.

I had to wait until my Lady Special came home, which was like 3:40. It took about a half hour after that before I even created my mission. She walked in the door, and I was on the couch looking at the lingerie section of a JCPenny catalogue while the kids were breaking windows and tearing off wallpaper.

She hands me the day's mail. Included is an envelope from UW Financial Fiscal Monetary Coin Paper Tree Company University Sector. Included in the envelope is a financial aid check for some coin. Not an our worries are over amount of coin, but a breathing room, phew amount. It was enough to buy a laptop, ensuring the taking of sweet notes in class, and all the online reading and typing of papers and such that skool reakwires, and bonus a replacement of my 3+yr-old Dell machine (which I love. We have a relationship for sure).

We're both happy about the check. Megan suggests I go buy a laptop right then and there. It kind of took me aback, the thought of making such a big purchase right away, without having to feel guilty about spending money. It was an idea that took me by surprise. After thinking it over for a few more minutes of couch-piloted JCPenny models in beige, cream-colored, thick bras and undies and havoc-wreaking kids, I found that Megan was right. There wasn't time to spare.

It was about 4:30. I got on a bus. On the way to campus, I stopped at the bookstore. It's on the Ave, really close. Found the other book I need for Spanish 101. Then I perused the office supplies, taking my time and enjoying myself, trying out several varieties of pen. Then I got a burger and fries and Mtn Dew. But it got the better of me, cause when I got to campus after that, the computer labs were all closed. But I did get to see this:

Lame.

I hadn't written down where my classes were going to be! So going into the buildings would have been useless without the class numbers. I was counting on being able to use a computer lab to login to my UW thingy and find that out. Didn't think about it b4 I left home; wasn't time.

So I'm sort of disenfranchised(?) at this point, but I used my handy dandy--notebook!--no, my smartest of phones to find the bus route to UVillage. I get to the stop, get on the bus, spend a little time walking around, seeing what happened to the building that once housed the restaurant I once worked in, looking at all the glitzy stuff and regular and irregular people. I asked a hot redhead where the Apple store was, and was surprised I had no interest in flirting with her, smiling to myself as I walked where she pointed me.

Coming up is the best part of the entire journey. It's getting dark outside. I get to the Apple store.

You know what? I can't say it in words. Here is what I encountered:

Mine

eyes

could

not

believe

them

selves

nor

could

the brain

they're

wired

to.

So I took some pictures and was all like, "Well my objectives both were failures of good intention this evening," and I went into a Barnes and Noble to blow off some steam and look at their cds. They all sucked. The music playing overhead was so lame--newschool renditions of tired, tired old blues numbers.

My backpack was starting to get heavy. I was unfamiliar with the street names and bus stops around that territory. I'm walking down ... 25th, is it? The street that runs right in front of UVillage? Well, I'm going south, looking at my phone, searching for this bus stop it was directing me towards, tired, and wanting the night to be over. I can't find the stupid street it was telling me to get to; they're all wacky over there. I make a wrong turn and just end up walking the fuck through all of campus, uphill half the way. Brutal. I'm so tired, and the trip has been fruitless, so mix frustration and placeless anger on top of that.

I remember the exact place the next thing of interest that evening happened. I had gotten up the hill and was walking fairly fast thru campus towards 15th Ave, where the 48 runs. On a brick walkway, near some pretty little buildings with trees creating a canopy above, I step down on my left foot and feel a sharp pain. Not enough to make me stop walking, but definitely enough to slow me down.

I knew I had given myself some kind of sprain or stress thingy in the muscles down there, and the sensation was familiar. When I walk, for some reason, without thinking about it, I step harder on my left heel than my right. I immediately started remembering when I used to do this to myself much more often, when I was in school before, when walking was a much larger part of my daily goingaboutmybusinesses. Or when I used to walk to work and spend more of the day on my feet. The pain brought me back to a time forgotten; to a different me. I was grateful for the trigger's effect on my memory, but not for its effect on my leg.

Then I remembered trying to correct my walking all that time ago, and I realized I'd have to reemploy that technique right then and there. I continued walking to the bus stop, limping. Made it home. The pain wasn't horrible.

When I woke up yesterday morning? Not so bad. A background feeling of weirdness down there.

When I took the kids to the park? Bang! It came back with a vengeance. Doing some outdoor walking really made it bad. I was leaning on the stroller just to take some of the pressure off my foot. I kind of started giving BB a wheelie, so I had to lay off and try to just walk it out.

But, oh, dude, that didn't compare to when I had Justin drive me to campus, cause he's a nice guy and we'd been planning it for a few days and we'd get to hang. Walking around there, I was totally screwed. I had to walk slower than I'd ever had to walk before. Descending declines was the worst. It hurt so bad! Shooting pain through my whole lower left leg. Oh man I was limping and trying not to act weird. So many other kids around, awkward themselves, and I wanted to get out of their faster-walking-ways but I couldn't, and they for some reason wouldn't pass me either, so I had backing up kids of awkward backing up behind me, even though I'm off to the side as much as I can be. It's funny, now that I'm thinking about it. They were probably all thinking I was trying to act cool, but actually... I was limping a bit obviously, too.

I found my stupid classrooms after more stupid walking. I went home.

Ankle feels better today. Not much, but better. It'll hurt like a snitch as soon as I start walking toward the bus, I know it. Tonight is the first night of my evening classes. It's Writing for Mass Media. Sounds cool, right? I'm looking forward to it.

Thank you for reading this far. I'll let you know how everything goes.

Okay bye.

Pychktchuerrs

The word Blurb and Blog oughtta be interchanged

Just a quick post but I have nothing to say. Last night I had great bro time and jamming and recording of the jamming with Justin Manitude Metal. My sweet metal name is Glenn Maximum Doom. Also, together we are Maximum Manitude.

Okay, Lucy is being a really patient, good girl. No fake tantrums (little, short bursts) like yesterday. Mama said she was very good last night.

Oh, look, she got her boots and brought them to the back door we always go out. Okay gotta go.