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2013-02-18

Briar's Birthday Party!



Here are some pictures from yesterday at Teal's son's third birthday party.

The Dad of birthday boy wasn't able to make it because he had to work, and he is not happy about that. I was thinking I'd try to make him feel better by telling him it wasn't that great, that he didn't really miss anything.

But then I asked myself, 'How you gonna tell a dad that he shouldn't feel bad about missing his kid's third birthday party?'

Just not gonna happen. If one of my kids was turning three, and was having a party for it, there's no fucking way I wouldn't want to be there for it. Just to be there in the kid's memory, you know? Just to show support. Although, Todd didn't miss for a bad reason--the family needs money, and if the job is hassling him about time off, then he's kinda gotta bite the bullet and do it and keep providing.

Thanks, Teal. You rock. Todd, you rock. Both of you are strong foundations of support for your family.

2013-02-14

Internship Fair Success

Yesterday I went to an internship fair at UW. My first as a participant, and was it ever an experience I won't soon forget. The world virtually opened up before me.

My competitive advantage over my younger colleagues was soon very, very obvious as I schmoozed my way around that room, talking to business representatives, marketing myself, taking my time and waiting in line where appropriate, shaking hands and introducing myself to those more formal, and for others just going in with, "So do you have anything in the communications, social media, marketing, and PR realms?"

The responses ranged from, "How about all of the above?" to, "No, we're looking more for software engineers who can do coding, but you should check back with us at X time."

I handed out many, many copies of my resume, to probably a little less than half of the businesses there. That may not sound like much, but there were plenty I didn't want to work for. And it was really nice to be able to avoid them, and to have the ability to choose my destiny. To be selective in my career path feels like the greatest freedom and power. My experience in school, writing, working here and there, and the maturity that parenting forced me to quickly adopt, are all finally adding up to a pretty impressive totality that I can put to use for myself--too feed and care for my family.

Because they're who I'm doing it for. And myself, of course, but I want to see my kids and Megan provided for, and be able to live comfortably. Not to be beautiful and take vacations all the time, but to afford, like, new gaming systems, games, and albums when they're released. And a variety of instruments to keep my talents up, and the equipment to record their sounds and the nice padded room to do it in.

Do you remember me mentioning my competitive advantage over my colleagues at the internship fair? Want me to explain myself? Good, me too. One word: people skills. It amounted to basically overcoming my fear of sounding dumb and just going around and being the People Person that I am, talking to impressive business reps I'd never met before, feeling comfortable, asking if they had anything open in my fields of study--and getting lots of results. More than I expected. I mean, like, in my backpack right now, there's a folder with eleven or twelve business cards and flyers for companies who are waiting for emails from me.

Two fellow students that I spoke to afterward, who had been at the same fair, did not have the same results. One scored a shitton of free candy, and the other was hoping for more of a ... something. As for the younger students, they were dressed really nicely, often awkwardly, like it was their first time putting on a tie and tucking in their shirt. Then, there were other kids who had really nice, snazzy outfits on, well-fitted and smooth business greys and UW purples.

Anyway, the more inept youngsters spent way too long talking to just a few businesses reps, asking them elementary stuff they could figure out on their own, like how to write their cover letter. I mean, I waited in a line for about 10 LONG minutes, in that hot, sweaty, huge, and packed conference room with my heavy coat and backpack on, to talk to a Fred Hutchinson rep for like five seconds. This greasy boy at the front of the line kept asking inane questions, incredibly nervous and unable to offer any responses, smiling and laughing nervously, and just going from question to question. I questioned whether anything was sinking in.

The next table over was for KEXP, a cool Seattle radio station, and that was much more fruitful. The guy there was really helpful. He was sitting there sweating, and had gotten done with his own long talk with a really tall, really young kid with rock and roll sensibility but not much business sense. Reminded me of myself at that age. I opened with, "Sick of talking yet?"

Luckily it worked. He laughed and said he doesn't talk much in his normal life, so it's extra weird here. But we got to gabbing, and it was much more my speed. There's an opportunity there with their little-known metal show that I'm gonna try to edge in on, and a few others that are up my alley.

After that I got a bit more confident and just started making my way down the three aisles, lined on both sides with businesses, dancing through the crowd with my big awkward messenger bag on, asking around, feeling people out, schmoozing. Throwing my resume out when appropriate, always asking first, and alternatively just writing down contact info when desired. Some reps didn't want a resume, but the majority did. You just have to be able to feel people out and ask the right questions.

All the middle-aged reps and I were very comfortable with one another. It was great. Even Denise, public defender for Pierce County, who, when I asked what was the appropriate way to address her, said, "Denise," with a laugh. A couple reps turned out to be fellow fathers and we ended up talking about kids.

The internship fair was scary and stressful going in, but once I got going it got a lot better, and afterwards the stack of opportunities added up  pretty high. I'm quite pleased.

Now to figure out what zillion pages I'm not going to be able to get done reading before class tonight. International political economy (which the lessons from helped me schmmmooooze successfully to a potential employer who exports his product to developing nations).

Success!

2013-02-10

"Toot," Birthdays, BB in a Ponytail

Every time I exhude whinde from my ahnus, my little 1yo BB says, "Toot," all nonchalantly. Early morning to early evening.

Yes, folks, my second and final daughter is four or so months away from turning 2.

Holy shit my birthday is Feb. 27. I'll be 31. How did that happen?
SURPRISEBIRTHDYALIST
I want the Zelda: Hyrule Historia book for my birthday, and a gift certificate to get Grand Theft Auto 5 when it comes out this spring, and a Wii U. And a practice amp for guitar and bass. And a bigger bass cabinet to play out on.

So but for my daughter, yeah she's getting like trains and puzzles and shit. Books, you know. Fun stuff. Yeah.
We have four birthdays four months in a row in this house:
February, March, April, May
Myself, Lucille, Megan, Beatrix
31, 4, 30-wouldn't-you-like-to-know, 2
And aviator sunglasses. And a nice black shirt that's made of material that's like a step up from cotton, but not quite silk. I want a shiny nice black shirt. And some black ties and a blue, red, and purple one. Flat colors, preferrably, unless there's some really sweet elegant design you could see Obama wearing.

I love my birthday time of year! The days are starting to get longer, winter's icy hold is beginning to loosen to make room for the warmth of the sun, and Neptune's Razcissor grants us all +2 Charisma (Barter, Speech skills).


Today BB let a ponytail stay in her hair for at least 20 minutes. Usually she pulls it out immediately, but I smoothly cooed, "Let it stay in," and to my surprise she did. The effect made her look older and more feminine.

Her hair right now is the biggest, curly blonde baby mop you've ever seen. It's pretty long, but isn't straight like mine or her sister's. And since she's a grubby little 1.75-yr-old, always dirty from rolling around on the floor and leaving food caked to her face and hands and everything she touches, her personality kind of becomes a grubbly little ragamuffin too, but it's offset by her sweetness. Indeed, they're interrelated: such a high-pitched small voice, innocent and pure, could only come from someone so ... liberal in their cleanliness choices.

Her face and neck and general skull shape were exposed in the ponytail. She looked so refined. Elegant, almost. The change--to me, as her father with plenty of biases towards her--was pretty extreme. She's got this beautiful face and a huge smile with deep dimples, which is cast in a completely different light depending on what her hair is doing.
Soon my ragamuffin will grow up out of this state and get cleaner, more coordinated, wiser. Sister Lucy is the mature one. The difference between them brings up images of how Lucy used to be, and how she didn't. I mean, they're the same and different.

One big difference is that Lucy is way less cautious than BB. As a toddler Lucy was always falling down and smacking her head against sidewalks and floors. It made the worst kind of thunking sound you've ever heard. BB's more hesitant and cautious. She also doesn't ever wear socks--another difference--which gives her feet better grip. 

But lately she's coming out of her shell with her body getting bigger and the daily language and motor coordination improvements.

You know what else? Lucy's going shit and piss in the big toilet now! Huzzah! Now I don't have to dump her excrement out of the little green toilet into the big one and have to wipe it out and rinse it out and wipe it out and wipe off the toilet rim and wash my hands every time she excretes!

I'm gonna study some motherfuckin Interpersonal Communication, a class taught by genius Professor Mac Parks at the University of W.




2013-02-07

My Wife: Achiever of Goals

My special lady has been on a diet for a long time, and it's not been the easiest thing in the world for her. It's boring to eat nothing but healthy food all the time! Not to mention staving off hunger is a bitch.

It's all in preparation for this biometric screening that her work offers--a multi-step test that gauges blood pressure, weight, etc. The better her score, the more of a discount she gets on what her store sells.

And it's all going on today. So she's gonna come home and see this after it's all over. Hopefully it doesn't embarrass her too bad.

Img courtesy of Tim & Eric
She works on the admin team, in the position of badass, for a major grocery chain here in Seattle. You can ask her about it sometime if you want.

She's skinnier than she's ever been in her life. And not that I value anyone's skinniness over any other character trait, but she's worked really hard at it for about a month now. And before that, she's always striven to eat healthy, making kale smoothies for lunch and staying away from greasy and sugary shit.

Image courtesy of A Damn Beast
And she's not gonna publicly brag about this stuff, so I will. Megan is cool and kickass and she has an inspired haircut that's off the chain!

Great job, Megan. Shoutout to my not-common-law-wife of 14 years.

Who cares what your score is today. You score a flawless victory with me.

But the real reasons to feel good ...

... are the cheeseburgers and fries we're going to eat tomorrow night.
Image courtesy of McDonald's


2013-01-29

Capture and Display all Your Typos

I'd type a blog entry right now but I've got kids to feed. I really want to tell you all waht's going on with me and unload these thoughts in my head, but I don't have the time. My day starts when I wake up and doesn't end till the kids go to bed. It's crazy. Sometimes it lasts till my bedtime if there's extra studying to do.

In the Spring I'll only have one class to take. It's teh lite @ the end of the tunnel.

Pictures are easier and faster to upload than explaining exerything.

              6g bh=-091`oasdghk.,b

That's what it looks like when I'm wiping my keyboard off with a wet wipe.






























2013-01-20

MLK day and my Resume

I think Dr. King would tell me that I've got to be able to take care of my own family before I can take care of anyone else, so I resolve to get my resume in order tomorrow.

Think I can find a job that Dr. King himself would be proud of me for having? That would make me feel like I'm on the right path.

I've got three professors as references, a whole wheelbarrowload of skills, all my blogs, and good journalism experience. And it's bursting at the seams with text--I can't make the margins any bigger.

Putting all this education I've got under my belt has really upped my resume highlights. For the first time there are marketable skills under my belt, not to mention a teeny tiny award for news writing, that I can not only list, but go beyond listing them in a bragging fashion, all long-winded-like, and parse them down into exact, concise, clear, bold & brief declarations of experience in all the relevant fields of the career I want to pursue WHICH IS AWESOME!

But my job experience is a little lacking, only two student papers under my belt, as well as a bevy of retail- & customer service-related jobs that ended poorly (for me). As much as I rant about how mistreated I am and special me and blah blah blah, it sucks to burn a bridge, and it's worse to burn multiple. Not that any employer of mine would say I'm a bad person, but the more you get fired, the more you gotta play a song-and-dance of explaining yourself instead of proceeding smoothly into sweet quadruple figures per year of $$$-making yo (self-fulfillment shmelf-shmulshmillshment).

Late last night I was looking at Craigslist's jobs postings in the pr/marketing and writing/editing jobs, and straight away I came to a few that I'm totally qualified for and are in the Seattle area. Then I had to tell myself in a cowboy voice, "Whoo--o-oo-o-o, now hold on now, there, little pilgrim, you still need to finalize the contact info for your references and try to geeit that fourth one in there!"

I'm suffering from what psychologists refer to as Resume Over-Confidence, which inevitably leads to a fall into conclusions.

Happy (early) Martin Luther King, Junior Day, everyone. Even if you don't have a resume of your own to work on for the purpose of feeding and comforting a family, find someone close to you who needs help, and help them!

In my pursuits of career, a joyous family, and shmelf-shmulshmillshment, I will strive to remember the sentiment expressed by our good doctor here:
Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.
I think he'd laugh at this

2013-01-07

Little Sister Tribulations

I'm sitting here next to BB on the couch with a big Tonka truck filled with five rubber balls representing fruits. Lucy is playing Zelda and in her own world. Mama is at work, makin that sweet bacon like a baus.

I'd add to that definition "One who exceeds at being cool in a way that requires practiced skill."

So BB, in utter defiance of all I do around here, esp. the vacuuming I accomplished three minutes prior, just starts fucking throwing the rubber fruit out of the truck with this backassward over-the-side hand and  motion. Onto the floor it lands, bouncing and scattered. I'm just like, 'Are you seriously fucking doing this right now, right in front of my face?'

But I said nothing. Keeping my cool, I just watched her throw them, planning my calm and self-affirming retribution.

What she wanted was the truck by itself to push around on the floor. So naturally, she had to have it emptied. Accomplishing that, she started sort of grabbing the side of the truck and going, "Eeh, eeh!" The general, "This is not right and you fix it for me," sound. So I put the truck on the floor for her.

She gets down off the couch and starts to push the truck away and out of my eyesight as I start asking her how that fruit is going to come off the floor. I had to raise my voice a click to get her to pick up the fruit. And when she did pick up all the fruit, I still told her, "Good job," and acted all excited and enthusiastic that she cleaned up this stupid shit on the floor that she shouldn't have thrown on there in the first place, but high-five her I did.

I start writing this blog about it directly afterward, and I look over at her and this is happening:


2013-01-02

Dads Who Don't Change Diapers

1. Should Start Immediately 

2. Are Ass


If you're a dad and you don't change poopy diapers, you're a piece of shit. Your woman carried that motherfucker and shoved it out her vagina and now you won't even help to change a poopy diaper? Get over yourself. Grow the fuck up for two seconds and act like and adult and SLEEP IN THE BED YOU MADE FUCKWIT.

Why does the woman deserve this responsibility? Why does she deserve to never get a break from this shit? I don't care if the dad does work and provide for the family--he's still gotta change a motherfucking diaper. Did he not understand that kids don't go in the toilet immediately after they're born? Maybe he wouldn't have had a kid.

Oh wait, yes he would have, because he has no regard for human life other than his own and his cock will shoot sperm into whatever accepts it and is legal to shoot it into.

Reading this pretty funny list of top 25 mommy confessions, I get to:
20. Three kids and my husband has never changed a poopy diaper. He says he hates the smell -- like I like it?! I'm going to shove the next one in his pillow.
And I can't even finish the rest. I'm flabbergasted. Her husband is a waste of space. Now I'm even more sure that I'm an awesome dad.

Why do people marry such assholes?

Look at me, I'm totally awesome, look at how much I love my kids:


2012-12-25

I'm Alive / Lonely Cats on Christmas

Okay, I've been studenting, dadding, and in my free time gaming and/or tv watching, which has taken a lot of time away from blogging.

I'm not dead. There will be more updates in teh future.

Resident Evil VI: Mercenaries mode is awesome.

My family has been taking care of a cat that comes by every day. She's taken to sleeping in bed next to me every night, but this morning she really pissed me off--clawing at me and biting my hand for petting her head--that I didn't let her in all day and I won't let her in the room tonight. But she can stay inside.

She's crazy. Her meows are dreadful, like a freaking alley cat. My kids are scared of her, but she is tame enough and doesn't scratch them. Much. They like her and want to play with her, but she's scared of them, too. They keep trying to touch her tail and walk up behind her.

Smokey wants to be part of the family, and she's putting forth some effort to calm down around us and not tear the shit out of our couches or claw us. But sometimes it's not enough. She's got too much street in her to be that domesticated. And her claws need to go and she needs a bath. I wish I knew if she really did have owners.

Christmas break is really nice. I've been enjoying the extra time with my family a great deal. It's so nice to be able to hang around with them every evening, especially Megan, who I don't see much while school's in session.

Christmas holiday has indeed been satisfying, as it always seems to be. I'm glad I stuck with a woman who likes to get into the Christmas spirit, cause I'm terrible at that and Megan's awesome at it. Picks the right music and makes cookies and treats and badass gravy. Mm.

Christmas Eve we hosted friends over at our house for a dinner party. Got to use our kitchen table with the leaf in the middle for the first time.

This morning, opening presents was more of a chore at times than fun, but for the most part it was a good time. My kids are not used to Christmas, and unwrapping presents. They did not understand why we kept trying to get them to open more. Also the lack of normal daily routine threw them off. I'm sure tomorrow they'll appreciate a return to normalcy. Frankly, so will I, but a small part of me will miss that microcosm of the Christmas time of year.

Ian says he's getting me something very metal, which naturally makes me drool. I cannot wait to see what it is. I'll find out on Friday.

Having kids sure makes Christmas different, huh? A whole bunch of extra shit to consider, with teaching moments to grasp onto and lessons to impart hastily, impatiently, and caffeinatedly.

Well, now I'm in bed and finishing this up, and Smokey is purring next to me on the bed, so I guess she can stay. She let herself in all sneaky like when I was getting my jammies on, and jumped right up onto the bed.

I suppose no cat should be alone on Christmas night.

Here are some pics from earlier this month. I'll get Christmas pics up soon.








2012-12-08

Quit Another Band

Area man burns bridge, looks to new horizons


So I joined and quit a band during Fall quarter this year, which is in finals week now at UW.

And in true Phil Collins fashion, I quit by text. It was a surprise to both the other guys that I had band problems at all, so it was a bit of a bomb I dropped on them. I feel bad about that.

Still, I don't think it was worth even a conversation. If you want to ask me why I quit, go ahead and email me or leave a comment or something. But no one outside the band is going to give two shits anyway. We were just starting out, trying to find a sound and a dynamic that would allow us to click together. It wasn't exactly happening for me.

We landed a show, through one friend who knew another, which was awesome--but we weren't prepared for it. We rushed to build and finalize a four-song set list. It felt good to get that together, and to go onstaget and play under the lights, and in front of the other bands and their girlfriends. It was good, yeah.

We all decided afterward that the songs were shitty, so we ditched them and began working on new material. But we could only practice once per week! And sometimes one of us would have something going on and have to cancel. So there was almost no hope of getting anything solid done any time soon.

Plus I had my stupid bullshit problems, so I had to quit. And I feel that I was significantly slighted by one guy in the band because he wasted my time. Now, not to say that my time is super-duper-extra-valuable, but when I leave the house, that means I leave my kids with someone--in this case, my partner whom I have to have on my good side, which means not leaving the kids with her all the time.

So when I packed all my gear up and left the house to drive to practice and received no answer to my door knocks, texts, and calls, since I had arranged my sleep the night and morning beforehand to prepare for practice, since Megan and I got into a kind of half-argument about me wanting to have an additional practice this week, and since I sat there on this guy's porch in the cold for a half hour while he slept, I got kinda pissed.

Then I started remembering how all of my song ideas that I had brought to practice beforehand were shot down; how our songwriting was limited and directionless; how practices were only once/wk; how I wasn't that crazy about our nice-but-sleepy bandmate's musicianship or songwriting ability; how there were no opportunities in Jungfrau for me to stretch my bass playing and dazzle the audience with anything remotely heavy or "busy"--by the guy who couldn't wake up to let me in, who could have texted me any time the night before or in the morning to tell me not to interrupt my day with band practice.

And it made me wonder whether any of my efforts to contribute to this band were worth it, because if this was the kind of behavior I could expect, then I was not going to stick around. Now if the music had been awesome, it would have been another story.

So quitting over text seemed sufficient.

Now I am free, at school, in a library, where the atmosphere is quiet and collegial. Ahh, a breath of fresh air every time. I have to work on this final paper for Race and the Law class, taught by Dr. Heather Pool. It needs to address how the SCOTUS case I chose, Bakke, upholds or ...downholds The Racial Contract, a book by Charles Mills.

Trust me, Mills's book is good enough to write a million papers on. It is an effective series of arguments that leaves no stone unturned as to the nature of white supremacy. He even lumps the very concept of racism into his overarching argument, broad and sufficiently frightening.

So I have enough to think about to distract me from the slightly nagging guilt of dropping a bomb on two completely nice guys.

But before I came to school today, to get out ALL THE GUITAR PLAYING DEMONS RAGING INSIDE ME, I plugged in my guitar for the first time in at least two months. As you recall, I had been playing bass in Jungfrau, leaving my guitar to wait by the wayside, just hanging out down there in the basement in its grey, fur-lined case, just chillin.

fuckin plugged that bitch in today and let her rip. Played some old stuff, played some new stuff, and regained my overall musical focus--I need to be in a metal band, where I write the songs. Not too much to ask, right?

..you'd be surprised in Seattle how hard that is to pull off....

Got any recommendations for what my ad in various musicians personals ads should say?