I could learn a lot from an 8-year-old

Using her own money, my daughter purchased a present for the child who lives upstairs. She did this because she wanted to make sure that we were being good neighbors and she wanted to share. This is simply how she is.

Tonight, she decided that she was ready to deliver the present that she purchased (school supplies, basically). However, we hadn't found time to wrap the presents because we were traveling, so she grabbed a Santa hat of hers and put the present in it. When I asked her if she was really okay with giving away her hat, her response was "I don't really wear hats that much so it's okay."

I'm so proud and I wish I could ever be that naturally and so easily giving. What a thoughtful, beautiful child.

solitude and quietude

"When I am among the many I live as the many do, and I do not think I really think. After a time it always seems as if they want to banish my self from myself and rob me of my soul."

"I need solitude, which is to say, recovery, return to my self, the breath of a free, light, playful air."

 The words of Friedrich Nietzsche are as good as any for opening this thought.  I could just as easily have opened with the words of a recent house guest: "It's never quiet in your house. I don't know how you do it."

Being a single father to two young children is not the easiest job I've ever had. I am fully aware of the number of moments where I don't wholly engage because my attention is divided by necessity or the times when simply getting things done means missing out on time spent enjoying each other's presences and learning together or even not managing to get things done because we're trying so hard to get other things done. I know that neither my children nor I are getting the best of each other and it is hard.

However, it takes a change in the routine to see exactly how much of a toll this is taking on me.

Having someone else observe the way that we are together and notice that I am always on, that I give 20% of myself to passive observation of the children even while trying to be fully focused elsewhere? That's a bit eye-opening. Having it mentioned that there is a constant level of activity and noise? Raises awareness. Going on a trip from the rural island life that the kids have known to The Big City, where they are my constant companions and must be instructed at every turn because they aren't used to shopping in a Big City Store where you stay in line-of-sight or because they aren't used to a Big City Parking Lot full of cars whose drivers might not be watching or a Big City Airport where you can't wander off and start touching things or a Big City hotel where you can't be as loud as you want and you can't just start touching things in the lobby because well you might break something and Daddy really doesn't feel like trying to figure out how to afford replacing that? Exhausting and all-consuming.

We departed at 6am yesterday, meaning that we were up before 4. For me, this meant that I got about three hours of sleep, maybe. I kept looking for opportunities to rest and recover, but the kids wanted and needed attention on all four legs of our flight (especially as they got more tired). Even in our layover, it was difficult keeping a pair of exhausted kids corralled. Arriving and trying to get some of our fun plans done didn't save any exhaustion.

Now, after about 34 hours of awakeness and Being On over the past 44 hours, I'm ready for some time to myself. I've repeated myself until I question whether my voice is audible beyond the confines of my own head. I've stopped uncharacteristic behavior repeatedly (seriously? We don't climb on those at home. Don't do it in the hotel for the sixth goddamn time). I've heard crying over things that don't matter and dealt with at least five exhaustion tantrums. I've pushed them and me through exhaustion, and now I need some time for me.

I planned this trip at the last minute because it was a chance to visit with an old, good friend. It also got me out of the house without the need for a babysitter and got the kids off the island for fun, which almost never happens. They needed this trip and it was a good choice at the right time. Unfortunately, I failed to consider the fact that even the lightest of agendas would require that I play referee, tour guide, entertainer, provider, teacher, and motivator pretty much non-stop. 

The kids are in bed. They are quiet enough that I can assume, from the other room, that they are both asleep. What they saw of me before bed was not my best self, nor at all what I like for them to see of me before they sleep, but it was the best self that I could muster. Taking ten minutes to draft this post feels great, especially since the only sounds I can hear in the suite right now are the sounds of my keys. I really want to open the book that I've been trying to read, but I can feel my eyelids. The only force strong enough to keep them open right now is willpower and my willpower will dissolve as soon as my focus on finding the words for this post ends. I may well pass out on the couch here, simply because it's that nice to feel alone for a few minutes.

I can only advocate for so many parties in the situation before I lose the ability to deal with the situation at all. Being empathetic and avoiding being trampled and trying to remain impervious to constant attacks and still trying to stand up for the needs of the children, I don't even get to speak up for what I need.

This doesn't work. I cannot always be the strong one, absorbing others' difficulties and supporting others' needs.

maybe?

If you're not terrified twice a week, maybe you're not in love.

a voice from beyond

I've heard many times before about people hearing a piece of wisdom from the voice of a wise, "departed" ancestor. Somehow, I'd always excused that as a form of rhetoric.

Earlier tonight, I was involved in an argument that didn't really go anywhere productive. We both brought out the big guns and succeeded in irritating, angering, frustrating, and otherwise ruining the rest of the day for each other without scoring any body shots.

Just a few minutes ago, the voice of Papa Nate came to me, literally, in the back of my mind. Not only did it sound like him, it delivered the kind of crisp rebuke that he could so easily fire off. "Great. You both won. Now what?"

I don't know how my brain pulled that one off, but it was just what I needed. I miss that man so much.

my, how time flies

Yesterday marked a month since Jo moved out. I would do well to keep it in mind that, though it feels as if much more time has passed, it's only been four and a half weeks.

Looking at the four of us coping with this change in our family, we're all struggling in our own ways. It's easy to take a look at any one of us in a good moment and to see how well that person is taking it and how little the change is impacting that person. The bad moments are different for all of us.

The Boy is still really struggling with his schedule. He's getting exhausted just about every day because he has to get up and going earlier in the day. He tries not to complain, and he's really being a champ about it all, but he also has developed a need to be close most nights in order to get a good night's sleep.

The Girl is trying to balance the stresses of home with the typical stresses of being in third grade - homework is more extensive, friends are shifting, and she's getting more and more responsibility at home as well. On the surface, she may be handling things the best of all of us, but I wouldn't be surprised if there's something lurking under there.

Jo probably has it worst right now. She's been uprooted from everything that she and I built over more than eight years. She sees her kids almost every day, but only gets to be their Mama with them one evening a week. I can't imagine how hard that must be, and it tears me up just thinking about it. She's trying to be strong and independent and so I'm giving her that space and trying as much as I can to follow Wheaton's Law.

Me? I work really long days. From the moment I wake up until the moment the kids go to sleep, I'm taking care of somebody's kids. When that ends, I have to decide whether I'll take some time for me (a movie on Netflix or a book?) or whether I'll try to catch up on sleep. I feel lonely, but I think it's mostly for lack of someone with whom I can be domestic. In many ways, though there are so many more responsibilities for me to shoulder, it's easier because I know that they're all mine and I always know who's to blame when something goes undone.

We're entering the wet season, to be followed closely by the dark season. I imagine this will all get a lot more difficult for all of us at that time, but until then, I will try to focus as much as I can on the fact that there is still a lot of love and a lot of laughter to be had.

sometimes you really have to work hard to find the sun

This past Sunday, I sure did. About thirty students and about ten chaperones headed 10 miles across the ocean (saw lots of humpback behavior while we were did that), then took just over eight hours to get up a dormant volcano and back. Here are some images from the hike:

Alaskans are fancy with their offloading. Click any image for bigger versions.

The hike began in rainforest...

...but it didn't take long to transition to muskeg.

Muskeg is essentially the same as a peat bog. Standing in that puddle for long would have been a bad idea.

Sitka TrailWorks put in some nice boardwalks...

...and a bunch of bridges. The manpower involved in transporting and building in these more remote locations is mind-boggling. And the stairs are leg-tormenting.

We're basically hiking through clouds here, which means that the spiderwebs look awesome. Also, TONS of berries low to the ground.

Taking a quick rest with our group and previewing the sunshine.

There's some sun!

No, this isn't the steepest part yet.

From here on up, it's all scree. Imagine a mix of pumice, feldspar, basalt, and bits of obsidian (you know, the crap that a volcano spews out when it builds a cinder cone), where almost all of it is smaller than your hand. Where it's carpeted in low-lying berries, it's almost easy to hike. Those run out halfway up, though.

Yes, those are mountains past the clouds.

This .6 mile stretch took an hour to climb down. Taking breaks heading up was a good idea.

The stakes are there to guide hikers on low-visibility days. They are important progress markers, too, for motivating people to go just a few steps further.

The cairn marks the top of the trail. From here, it's an easy jaunt to the crater (maybe 200 meters).

Panorama!

That's what "dormant" looks like.

Yep, that hiking kilt worked perfectly. We took some group shots and enjoyed lunch in the sun and wind.

Of course, if you go up...

It wasn't so much a "climb" down as a "slide" down.

I do plan to eventually edit this to be black and white with this music in the background. If you don't find that funny, you need to watch more good movies. Don't bother trying to play the movie - I'll share it on YouTube when it's ready to go. For right now, it's essentially just a GIF.

A first glimpse of the ocean! 14 miles and 3200 vertical feet and we were definitely ready to be done.

They brought a bigger, nicer boat to take us back. We still had to use a ladder to get on!

These guys didn't even see the juvenile humpback breach twice in under a minute. It was spectacular - completely vertical, a twist, everything cleared the water except its flukes. No chance I was wasting time finding my camera.

So there you have it. That's how Alaskans do day hikes.

slow, quiet days are bad

I'm beginning to dread my weekends.

Today, I had two things on my agenda: make breakfast for the kids and go to the Farmer's Market. I added a few small errands on the way to the Market, but my schedule was clear by 12:30. Normally, that would sound like a recipe for a great day, but it wasn't quite.

The first problem was that today was rainy. I have realized that I have Seasonal Affective Disorder, which is an adorably-named affliction aside from the fact that calling it "SAD" is much cuter than the actual disorder and the fact that it blows to have my mood connected to my vitamin D levels. I take D supplements on a daily basis, which enable me to do really well on sunny days here and decently on days where there is intermittent sun. A day like today, however, is really rough. Not only was it wet, it has been so rainy that we're on track to double a rainfall record older than me. The gray got less dark at one point, and I guess that's what counts for sun today.

The second problem was that not having anything on the schedule means that I'm sitting here, alone with my thoughts. I had tentative plans to spend all of tomorrow being physically active and some of this evening hanging out with adult friends, but those plans got shelved when tomorrow's forecast canceled the outdoor activity and the overnight babysitting. Instead, I'm cooped up in the house with a pair of great kids who have a lot of energy and good will, but aren't adults at all. It has been pointed out to me recently that stay-at-home parents get to deal with this scenario daily, but I don't even get the relief of having an adult coming to spend some of the evening with me. Normally, when I'm alone with my thoughts, being musical helps to banish the demons. Several hours of attempting that have only helped the smallest of amounts.

I should probably read, but my desire for sociability is too great. I should find something to do, but my heart isn't in chores (and I've done enough laundry, cooking, and cleaning today - I deserve at least part of a day off from that). I have had one nice conversation on the phone with a friend, but a long-distance phone conversation, pleasant as it was, is just not the same as being around people. I should seek out physical activity, but it's wet and I can't leave the kids alone and I just don't wanna try that hard right now.

I don't need much - though I'd love to have someone here to cuddle with, simply having someone (or a few someones) to talk with over dinner or play cards with would be enough at this point. This is the part that's hard for me, and I don't expect many people to understand.

worth remembering

note to self: never take advice of any sort from Joey Comeau

...unless it's about how to be awesome and have exactly the life you want by living completely outside of societal norms.

adjustments

It's taking some getting used to, this single life. For the most part, it's an intensification of my previous routine, with certain parts simplified (no sense asking if a partner is getting the mail/groceries/kids, for instance). One thing that is really an adjustment, though, is that there is so much time for thinking and so little opportunity to share the ideas that result. If I'm lucky, this will result in a more introspective, thoughtful version of myself, capable of listening more than speaking.

mutuals

For all the joy that dear friends can bring, there is nothing that quite compares to the feeling of introducing two dear friends who then become friends in their own right.

Rationality

There are times when being rational is a comfort. There are times, however, when one wishes that rationality simply wouldn't be around. In conversation today with a good friend, I was asked why I didn't pursue something that I certainly would have enjoyed greatly in the short term, and the only answer that I could give was that I knew it wouldn't be satisfying in the long term, and it would be worse all round. I am glad that I made that choice, but man, do I sometimes wish that I hadn't. There are times when I truly wish that I was more irrational.

Year Ten

Wow. Where did the time go?

My mental soundtrack the past few days. ..

a summative assessment

My marriage to Jo, the biggest, greatest, craziest story of my life so far, is coming to its conclusion. Nobody could have reasonably predicted that it would take the twists and turns that it did and it defied convention from the very beginning.

I don't know how many times I told someone about a first date that lasted two-and-a-half days, just to see the look of disbelief. I don't know how many times I helped tell the tale of a last-minute marriage in the hall of a hotel with no family around at a quarter to midnight on April Fools' Day. I don't know how many times I fondly reflected on dancing under pines in a parking lot or how many smiles, belly laughs, or tears were shared.

We lived in some terrible places. We lived among glorious beauty. We spent more time driving across the country together than anybody else I know. Together, we saw half of Canada and at least twenty-four US states. We endured and celebrated family. We ate fresh king salmon and Frito pie.

Over more than eight-and-a-half years, we learned just about everything there was to know about each other. We taught each other, shaped each other, and pissed each other off. My music collection, library, and taste in visual art will never be the same again. I know things about myself that I didn't when I was 24, and I know things about myself that I never would have guessed in January.

This story has interwoven with other stories. The stories of my profession, of our children, and of the hundreds of students we connected with over the years will never be severable from the story that is now ending. Singly and together, we have done things that stagger me when I take the time to reflect fully upon them. Those other stories will continue, as they must, for this is not their conclusion.

I recently read some advice to someone who was at the end of her own story, encouraging her not to "retcon" the entire relationship because things ended badly. All stories come to an end. Not all of them end in storybook fashion. It is important to remember that there was a lot of good before and among the bad.

I have no regrets. I cannot. Every moment, however fraught with tension or illuminated with joy, helped to bring me to this point. There is still a lot of difficulty and pain in our future, but there are also beautiful children, faithful friends, and irreplaceable memories. If you are reading this, you have likely been part of this story, and I thank you for that.

the Rolling Stones song I love

I've always loved this song, but the lyrics have never hit as close to home as they do now.

*sigh*

Billy Joel might be an absolute bastard, but this song. Every time.

don't drop a full filing cabinet on your bad knee

Just don't do it.

home

Years ago, I fell in love with the movie Garden State. There was a line in it about how home (for the male protagonist) was wherever the female protagonist (his great love) was. That line resonated for me, and it's basically been my working definition of "home" ever since.

It just occurred to me that I don't know where my home is. It's probably not here, but I don't know where it is. I do know that this is home for the kids, and they matter more than anything I want or think I need now.

Everything I will do will be focused on keeping them here and doing what I need to do to stay healthy enough and strong enough to provide for them here.

They Say (a slight edit)

Better to have loved and lost and loved and lost and loved and lost and loved and lost and loved and lost and loved and lost and loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

walking

I think I can safely go a few days here without walking HPR again. Six miles was enough for one day.

it's been too long

I want to enjoy things again.

Yuck

45 minutes of riding a bike (and getting lost a bit) while wearing luggage weighing approximately as much as both of my kids combined has made it abundantly clear that I am no longer 17.

An absolute must-read

Go ahead and read this and stop being judgmental and cut out the slut shaming.

Commander Chris Hadfield

Tell me you don't want to buy Chris Hadfield a coffee and give him a hug/handshake.

so tired

I can't remember the last time I was this exhausted this constantly. It is a physical and emotional exhaustion that doesn't go away. I'm working so hard and feel like I'm making no headway.

My M.Ed program begins next week and lasts a complete year while I work full time. I don't know how I'm going to do this.

perspective

Today, five men decided that thousands, if not millions, of women are less important than the "sincerely held" religious beliefs of a legal fiction.

original hipsters

Homemade clothes, full beards, vests and collars, suspenders, silly hats. Yup.

an observation

There are two types of people who want to know how your day is going: those who are truly caring, empathetic folks and those who really don't want to talk about their day.

more of the story

Almost two weeks ago, I posted the following text to this blog:

Those who are on The Facebook are probably already aware that there have been difficulties in my marriage. We're taking what may well be the harder road and trying to mend fences. Our reasons may or may not be good, but they're ours and that's good enough.

This was in direct response to a post by Jo on Facebook in which she revealed that she had had an affair with a man who was once my friend. It began as online friendship, then developed over time and became (very briefly) physical. She shared that because I had, earlier that day, discovered what was going on. I was far from in a safe and healthy state of mind, but when she asked what she could do to start earning my trust back, I requested that she do something so big and public that it could never be undone. Time will tell if I was right to ask this, but it seems to have had two major effects: there are no more awkward conversations with people who don't yet know that something went wrong and there are a lot of awkward conversations, sideways glances, or judgmental pauses from folks who do know that something went wrong.

As I told my mother on the phone a couple of days after everything was made public, everyone keeps forgetting to ask why this all happened.

Before I more directly address that, I want to take a short detour into something that Jo posted a few days ago on her own blog:

The very first time I met Papa Nate, he told us to always put "us" first; before our jobs, before our kids, before our families, before the bills, before everything. Us first. It's strange to look back and wonder when we stopped doing that. It's even stranger to try to figure out how to get back into the habit of doing it again.

Papa was our great support and counselor. He had a way of quietly making sure that we had what we needed, whether that was a positive word, a strong reminder of the right thing to do, or whatever else the situation demanded. I know that he was not a perfect man and had his failings, but it is tempting to
think that our marriage might look very different if he had not died when he did.

Somewhere along the way, we stopped putting "us" first. I became focused on my job, keeping things running at home, trying to feel as though I was getting enough time with the kids to still feel like their father. Jo seemed to always be present, so it was easy to not worry about whether our relationship was OK. We shared the same bed every night, we ate dinner together most nights, and we made sure that all of the domestic stuff was done, so everything was alright, right?

Well, maybe not.

Stephen and I have a mountain before us to conquer and I think we'll succeed. The fact is, it took both of us to fall so low and it's going to take both of us to scale to new heights. We know this and we're preparing for the journey. We have loving families and amazing friends, we have compassionate children who bring us perspective and we are in therapy, but most of all, we have each other and we have hope.

When we moved to Alaska, I made a commitment to leave work at 4:30 every day. I made this commitment because we moved here for our family. Where we'd lived before, the kids would not have had access to preschool at all nor to quality elementary schools nor to a large number of kids their age. Though Jo and I were both useful, she felt marginalized and we were both ready for a place that would be accepting of all of the members of our family. I frequently worked insane hours in both of the jobs that preceded our move to Alaska, so it was a very conscious decision that I would avoid that.

I really couldn't pinpoint when I started to backslide. In my first year, I was good. There were no extra clubs that I ran, I didn't do a pep band, and I only attended the bare minimum of school dances. I dipped my toe into a few activities in town, but didn't go overboard.

In my second year, though, I started regularly hosting my own radio show, joined a barbershop quartet, sponsored a radio club at the school, and began another club. I also started up a pep band that "only" attended half of the basketball games, even though I received no stipend for it. This was probably when I started being too extended. Hell, it sounds exhausting just to read. I was still leaving school at 4:30 each day, but I frequently left only to return again a few hours later or to come back on the weekends.

I honestly cannot speak to what was happening with Jo at that time as it was three years ago and my memory just isn't up to it at the moment, but I know that this is the time that she frequently identifies as the time when things started to go sour for us. In March of that school year, Papa Nate died. We spent most of the summer in Cleveland, helping my parents sort through all of his effects. It was a very frustrating time for everyone for a pile of reasons and probably didn't help us much.

Somewhere in the midst of all of this, I lost sight of my wife. It is a devastating thing to realize that you share a bed with someone whose hopes and dreams you don't understand, and I imagine it's just as devastating to realize that you share a bed with someone who doesn't understand your hopes and dreams. From what I understand, Jo also believed that I didn't care. Eventually, she felt like she had nothing to lose from seeking solace elsewhere.

The road from here is not clear. We could use a mentor, like Papa Nate. We will certainly attend counseling and we're going to fight for this marriage. We have had some nasty moments in the past couple of weeks and some absolutely transcendent moments. We've looked at each other in complete honesty, possibly for the first time in years. We've been to the depths of despair and we're also learning how to laugh together again. We hurt each other, mostly unintentionally, but we've also offered comfort and care. We're relearning how to be us, and reappraising all of our priorities as a result.

I don't love this journey, but it's the only journey I can accept right now. We chose it together and that will do.

Our culture must change

I don't normally simply link to someone else's link to someone else's video, but I'm doing that now because both of them have some exceptionally good points that they make about misogyny, bullying, and our culture's deplorable othering of those who deal with mental illness (and the difference between mental illness and legal insanity). Read the post in its entirety and watch the video as well. Bonus: she has an adorable accent.

http://freethoughtblogs.com/pharyngula/2014/06/21/rads-video/

The solstice blows

Today is the saddest day of the year in northern latitudes.

Free stuff yay!

Thank you, Target, for including in the box three free samples of a supplement that might make my wife grow a beard while not being proven effective at anything healthy or useful.

I think I prefer Sweetwater's practice of including candy.

Man, Bootsy

White people dealt with funk by creating disco. This should tell you everything you need to know about white people.

Dear Anchorage,

When customers use a debit card, it's because they want to have the charges processed immediately. This is very useful when they know that they are running low on funds and want to be able to check account balances on the go.

Running a debit transaction five days later is a pretty shitty way to process a charge immediately.

Love,

Yeah right, like anybody actually loves Anchorage.

Looking ahead

Those who are on The Facebook are probably already aware that there have been difficulties in my marriage. We're taking what may well be the harder road and trying to mend fences.

Our reasons may or may not be good, but they're ours and that's good enough.

"Your life is not yours, it's your children's and mine and everyone else who loves you."
-a friend who had the words I needed

Proverbs 26:11

Even the Christian holy book contains a few nuggets of wisdom (or at least relevant poetic quips).

The worst thing about children is that they ruin everything. They get in the way, they break things, they have the worst sleep schedules in the world, their feelings are totally irrational and unpredictable, they cost lots of money,  and they need things at the most awkward of times.

The best thing about children is that they can make everything seem right.

Waiting...but for what?

I have this strong sense that there is something that should be happening now. A conversation, a visit, something. Of course, it's not happening, which leaves me feeling a bit empty.

The wisdom of children

Today, I saw my beautiful, beloved children teach three adults a bit about being parents. A young boy was at the playground with them, totally smothered by parental and grandparental attention. "Try this! Go here! Let me catch you on the BIG SLIDE!"

I asked The Girl to politely ask if the kid could play with them. Her brother was right there, helping find new play and getting right in the dirt with the little kid. No more than five minutes later, the kid was running and playing, jumping off of slides faster than Grandma could catch, and running off in new directions, leading the play for the group. The adults are still hovering too much, but I can see the glimmers of the beginning of an understanding of healthy child play.

I have never been prouder of my children.

The last glimpse of the child

During the graduation exercises here, there is a moment in which students leave the stage to give roses to family members. When I first came here, I didn't love this portion of the ceremony, but it's now my absolute favorite part.

These young people are learning to look, talk, and act like adults. They stand on stage and are admonished to go into the world and do great things as adults. They take care of themselves and those around them like adults.

Then they go out into the audience and hug Mom or Grandma or Uncle and the baby is back. For possibly the last time in their lives, the child returns for one brief moment in the embrace of that valued loved one. That moment is sheer magic, and I look forward to and dread that moment with my own children.

Why I shouldn't be left un-spoused

Tonight, I began reading an excellent book at approximately 8 pm. I finished it a few minutes ago, six hours later.

No regrets, of course, but it wasn't the wisest choice.

I hear the children in the living room, being delightful. It's not that I don't want to be with them, sharing in their good day, it's that I can't bear the thought of inflicting myself upon them.

I confine myself to the bed not because I don't want to be in the world, but because I don't want to be perpetually seeing flaws where I should be seeing everything else. If I leave this bed, I will complain, groan, sigh, and spend all of my time scrubbing, throwing things away, and organizing instead of playing games or getting out of the house.

When I was in high school, I had limitless options. I took tests that were designed to tell me what to do with my life and they were all useless, because they all said I could do anything I wanted to do. I was a decent athlete. I had as many friends as I wanted (at least as long as I stayed active in Boy Scouts and youth group). I got good grades with minimal effort. My body looked the way I wanted and it felt good, my relationships with people were uncomplicated, and my path ahead was clear: I was going to go to college and then change the world.

I look back on that time as a 32-year-old man with bad knees, a bad elbow, a job where I have maxed out the pay scale unless I do graduate work in a field that I don't really want to enter, and a family that looks great from the outside but where there are major struggles for a variety of reasons. I want economic security. I want fulfillment from my work. I want time to do meaningful things with my family. I want a home of our own where I can knock holes in the walls or rewire an electrical outlet without asking anyone for permission.

Sure, my job is secure and I am respected by my bosses, my colleagues, and the kids with whom I work. Sure, most people would envy us having the kids we have. Sure, we're struggling with money but always seem to somehow find enough. Sure, we rent from great people and have a pretty nice place despite it all. None of that changes the fact that I feel profoundly unsatisfied. I want to feel that I am doing grand things. I want to have a social life that doesn't feel forced. I want to feel like I have options again.


Incidentally, it is devastating to have the kind of day that feels like this and to sit on my computer typing, knowing that nobody will reply to this post and that I will likely not have any other conversations with any other people. I know that I am not good at maintaining communication over distance (largely because of time zones and timing), but I desperately want to have the kinds of friends who read what I write and know how to respond.

one of the problems with me, or why I'm grumpy today

Like most people, I have an internal discussion/monologue going on at most times. This internal voice debates the various outcomes of different actions and attempts to keep me out of trouble. My problem is that, even when it is really accurate, I have a tendency to ignore its advice.

An ongoing problem is that I will find myself bothered by something and wanting to say or do something about it. As soon as I start thinking about it, though, I can tell that digging any deeper will not result in any increase in my personal happiness. Nothing will be positively resolved in a short amount of time and I will likely cause myself to have a bad day from that point forward. However, I am the kind of person who simply cannot choose not to pick at that sore spot. Once I have identified something that bothers me, I have to either confront it and be made less happy by the confrontation (which, as noted before, I knew wouldn't help) or I opt to suppress my irritation and not make a big deal about it, in which case it festers beneath the surface and makes me less happy by not confronting the issue.

It's really a no-win situation, except in the (very) rare cases where speaking out or acting results in an immediate positive resolution.

boondoggles

Nearly a decade after walking across the stage for graduation with my class and nine-and-a-half years after leaving college with $26,000 in loan debt, I still have $26,000 in loan debt. I have worked full-time as a teacher for nine years, my wife has taken on a side job several times, and I have taken on summer work. Granted, we have had higher priorities in this time than the eradication of loans that don't even expire under bankruptcy, but it's a bit ludicrous that someone who works in a field that requires a college degree cannot reasonably hope to pay off the debt from that degree within a decade.

adrift

What do you do when you've been firmly anchored to a rock for years and then the rock decides to be a butterfly?

High hopes...

Let's hope I don't manage to also screw up this radio show. Aiming to not be batting 1000...

ah, Vernal Equinoctes...

How did I miss that the equinox occurred sometime between Monday and Tuesday? It's the best day of the year!

I miss feeling like I do things that matter. I miss having friends.

thank you, PZ

Yes, I am a radical feminist. That doesn't mean that I always see things the right way the first time. PZ Myers nails it: http://freethoughtblogs.com/pharyngula/2014/03/06/absolutes-vs-plastic/

The big takeaway:

[W]hen the world rises up and breaks the model of it in your head, some of us are tickled by the experience and are happy to revise our models. Others are annoyed and offended at the defiance of their sacred preconceptions and want to insist that the world cohere to them.

My overall impression of The Labyrinth

Whine, whine, penis, whine, penis, penis, whine, Frank Oz, whine, penis, whine.

on cross-dressing

All men should have the opportunity to spend a day in a dress.

After experiencing the body issues, constant superficial commentary, and general discomfort associated with women's fashion, a new perspective begins to crystallize. Maybe there's a reason that girls seem so quick to assume the shapeless clothing stereotypically associated with males. Maybe there's a reason that women avoid drawing attention to themselves, if that attention is so likely to be critical of appearances. Why is it that there is no stigma attached to a woman dressing as a man, but there is a stigma attached to a boy who dresses effeminately?

Thank you, SPAM

In Sedona, that kind of deep cleansing would have cost me thousands of dollars.

well then

Good thing I wasn't planning on having a good week or anything. Being vindicated is rarely as cathartic as they show on tv.

What is the preferred and proper procedure in a cry for help?

feminist thought

In a non-patriarchal society, the headline would have read:

"Shirley Temple Black, Former Diplomat, Philanthropist, Corporate Leader, First Female Chief Of Protocol of the United States, and Breast Cancer Activist Died Today at 85."
First Known As Child Actor

Wil Wheaton vs. The Omniasshole!

Wil Wheaton has a tumblr. You probably knew that already if you know who he is. If you don't know who he is, I'll wait a moment while you practice some Google Fu.

Everybody back?

OK, Today, he's been answering some questions on his tumblr, as he is wont to do most days. This day, however, he has been the focus of the MRA horde (incidentally - holy shit did Urban Dictionary come through on that one!) since he has spoken out as a decent human being and a male feminist.

This is their thing. They've done it to PZ, they've done it to other decent folks, and they'd probably do it to me if my footprint was big enough to catch their attention. Basically, they throw a lot of false equivalency, a lot of strawmen, a touch of ad hominem, and a whole load of misogyny at anyone who dares to point out that they are assholes who embrace false equivalency, strawman arguments, ad hominem attacks, and engage in misogyny. Indeed, they will accuse you of misandry if you point that out.

Anyhow, this is all a long-winded way of pointing out that you should head over and check out the yeoman's work that Wil has been doing for us all today.

Our kids deserve so much better than us.

Hello there, Lubuntu! Lookin' good...

There's such a clean feeling that comes with the completion of a new OS install. Everything's up and working satisfactorily, basic settings have been adjusted, and the computer's running fast and happy. It's a good thing. Now let's see if I can convince an 11-year-old BIOS that it really does need to read a USB flash drive.

R.I.P. Philip Seymour Hoffman

An artist died today. It sure was nice of the Department of Defense to arrange for all of those honor guards and flyovers on such short notice.

One More Reason I Love the Open Source Community

Not once in all of the years that I have been using Linux (Ubuntu, Xubuntu, Edubuntu, Puppy, etc.) have I encountered a deceptive service. A few times, I've been asked to contribute to the development of a program or distro, but I've never tried to update the software on an important piece of hardware only to find that the manufacturer links to a third party that will run a diagnostic test which then leads to a paywall.

This is why people quit Windows and never look back.

Howie Mandel on Mental Health

When was the last time you seriously considered what Howie Mandel had to say about anything?

Mandel said that just like parents take their children to pediatricians and dentists, mental health -- such as counseling -- should also be part of the picture.

What if we actually scheduled yearly checkups for ourselves? This could clear up all of the mental health stigma in this country and it would really help us to avoid letting folks fall through the cracks. No more finding out that someone is OCD when she can no longer attend classes or finding out that someone is manic depressive when he threatens to kill someone, but a continuous process of assessment and tracking, just like we do for eyes and teeth. Surely our brains are more important than our chompers.

Shave and a Haircut

Two hundred bits!

...times have certainly changed, but the joy of a hot towel shave has not. It was worth every one of the twelve dollars.

Pre-K Race To The Top?

Balls.

...in which a girl from New Zealand terrorizes every Whovian

A perfect remembrance for Pete Seeger

From The Mudflats: Rest in Peace Pete Seeger (1919-2014) http://feedly.com/e/R1NfO34P

I'll play him in school tomorrow. Be sure of it.

Comments Sections Are Despicable

Does anyone else lament the departure of the days when racists said what they meant? I'm so tired of reading racist things said in code by people who swear that they're not racist "but we have to accept that single parents/urban kids/immigrants/minorities simply don't have the abilities/education/values that the rest of us do."

Look, if your sentence starts with something along the lines of, "I'm not racist/sexist/homophobic, but...", guess what: you are, and you need to stop it now, asshole.

The American Way

Me: We're out of flour.
The Boy: Let's buy some more.
Me: Why don't you just make some?
The Boy: How do you do that?
Me: Well, the first step is to grow some wheat.
The Boy: Let's just buy some.

"Gangbangers in Chicago"

For some reason, whenever I encounter someone talking about how the NRA only represents law-abiding gun owners and not criminals, the rest of what that person has to say on any topic ever falls into my "likely to be bullshit" folder. When the term "gangbangers" shows up in the same comment, the rest of what that person has to say on any topic ever falls into my "likely to be bullshit from a racist" folder. Somehow, "gangbangers" never look like this.

Names Matter

I hope my insistence on learning what kids want (and should) be called has ever had half of the impact this kid felt.

"At the start of a new semester, I walk into a math class. My teacher is blond and blue-eyed . . ."

Places and Times

Really, folks? You're going to spend MLK Day arguing over whether it was appropriate for one sportsball guy to talk rudely of another sportsball guy in the wake of triumphing at the sportsball AND you're going to turn it into a big ugly racist thing?

I despair.

Mr. T would have something to say about this

Honestly, I can't believe full-grown, nominally educated adults take this "speaking in tongues" bullshit seriously. You're babbling gibberish, not yakking the divine language. If that's how your god talks, you can keep him.

Of relevance.

Edit: incidentally, if you can hear her, apparently you are not Satan. Congratulations!

Dear Person Who Invented Package Tracking,

Screw you. It's killing my productivity to be sitting here F5ing all day. Love, Me