I would send the monkeys to bed but they are currently charting starcharts on the living room ceiling and swear that they've found life. Truly, this must be of use to someone in the scientific community. Also, I'm not sure if I should be concerned if the life in my ceiling is moving.
I'll consult with the thing behind the fridge.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Sketch o' the Day ~ Blanket Ward
When the time came to reclaim it's prize, all the deep azure eye could see was a flurry of shaking fibers, bundled together in an immovable mass and altogether impossible to pluck from it's protective nautilus.
Weak
I had a dream last night that was probably the most unnerving, explicit dream I've ever had. So much so that I can't repeat it's contents for fear of being accused of something crazy. It is poignant, but right now I just want it to go away.
Goawaygoawaygoawaygoaway. GO AWAY!
Unlike other nightmares, I didn't wake from this one paralyzed or paranoid. I wanted to throw up and cry. But I couldn't. I still feel like something might send me over the edge. In the end, it was the worst kind of loneliness, not that I was alone, but that there was nothing left for me with anyone.
The most I can say is that I don't really want any human touch for a few days.
Maybe I'll come back to it if it continues to haunt me but for now I'm trying to think happy thoughts to expel it.
Bah. It's not working.
I've never been so relieved to see daylight.
Goawaygoawaygoawaygoaway. GO AWAY!
Unlike other nightmares, I didn't wake from this one paralyzed or paranoid. I wanted to throw up and cry. But I couldn't. I still feel like something might send me over the edge. In the end, it was the worst kind of loneliness, not that I was alone, but that there was nothing left for me with anyone.
The most I can say is that I don't really want any human touch for a few days.
Maybe I'll come back to it if it continues to haunt me but for now I'm trying to think happy thoughts to expel it.
Bah. It's not working.
I've never been so relieved to see daylight.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Let Me Purge
Okay so...
So here's a thing I did on a whim. Just for the fun of it. Really. All I did was sing happy birthday.
It happens to appear on the latest edition of one of my regular podcast indulgences. Have a listen:
The Daily Purge
And I'm now pleasantly surprised. Thanks boys!
(And, um, this maybe your only chance to hear me sing...)
Peace,
Alden
So here's a thing I did on a whim. Just for the fun of it. Really. All I did was sing happy birthday.
It happens to appear on the latest edition of one of my regular podcast indulgences. Have a listen:
The Daily Purge
And I'm now pleasantly surprised. Thanks boys!
(And, um, this maybe your only chance to hear me sing...)
Peace,
Alden
Monday, November 06, 2006
Stomped
Today I've had the stomping.
Without warning I see it come, the plumber takes a leap and I know with a sole grinding punctuation it will land squarely to flatten me into squishy goomba paste. It's not the same as being assaulted in a way that allows me room to recover or defend myself. It's not like someone hurling cows and chickens over the wall that I can run away from, or at least devise a plan. It just doesn't matter what you do. There is no escaping the wrath of the stomp.
Usually after the stomping, I gather up what's left and try to make it home where I put myself together the best I can, but I'm basically down for the rest of the night. The next day I'm usually fine. Someone has hit the reset button and I've popped back into play. Until the next time when I blindly march onward.
Stomp. Reset. Repeat.
The stomping is never about work or friends or relationships, or even heavy world issues. It consistently involves my time with the boys. It doesn't happen all the time. For the most part, it's a good routine we've got that let's me still see them equally even though they don't stay with me but one night a week. Even with sit down explanations and reminders of love for them, I often wonder how much all the separation of mom and dad affects them. Sometimes it just doesn't feel right putting them to bed, singing them goodnight in another house and then coming back to my cave.
Usually the beginning of stomping days begin with a Homework Meltdown. After an hour of play to "unwind" from school, it's an unpredictable thing whether or not the Elder Monkey will be into his reading and writing or whether he'll have the grace of Godzilla. Mad as hell and once again we have to rebuild Tokyo in the aftermath.
And then there's Lord of the Toy, much like the quest for the One Ring but much more screaming and bitemarks. It will magically flip from a hobbit and elf team up one minute to the quibbling rage of orcs in an instant. I usually have to ride in and claim it for myself until peace has returned to the land.
I try to keep my cool, I put monkeys in time out, I take things away, I do what it takes. Then I remember, they are six and five and that means they are out see how far they can push things. Every parent needs a break from their kids, it's not selfish, it's simply burn out prevention. All those natural things that come with raising kids.
I try to ask what's wrong. It's always "Nothing." I know it's a great big nothing that at it's root is confusion about why we aren't together.
It's on these days of the stomping, when there are tears and nothing will console, that for a split second I twitch and wonder if I did the right thing in the long run. If perhaps trying to at least live together would have been the best solution. It never lasts very long but I still think it.
Stomped I tell you. I must now look for something to rub this footprint off my forehead. Damn plumbers.
Without warning I see it come, the plumber takes a leap and I know with a sole grinding punctuation it will land squarely to flatten me into squishy goomba paste. It's not the same as being assaulted in a way that allows me room to recover or defend myself. It's not like someone hurling cows and chickens over the wall that I can run away from, or at least devise a plan. It just doesn't matter what you do. There is no escaping the wrath of the stomp.
Usually after the stomping, I gather up what's left and try to make it home where I put myself together the best I can, but I'm basically down for the rest of the night. The next day I'm usually fine. Someone has hit the reset button and I've popped back into play. Until the next time when I blindly march onward.
Stomp. Reset. Repeat.
The stomping is never about work or friends or relationships, or even heavy world issues. It consistently involves my time with the boys. It doesn't happen all the time. For the most part, it's a good routine we've got that let's me still see them equally even though they don't stay with me but one night a week. Even with sit down explanations and reminders of love for them, I often wonder how much all the separation of mom and dad affects them. Sometimes it just doesn't feel right putting them to bed, singing them goodnight in another house and then coming back to my cave.
Usually the beginning of stomping days begin with a Homework Meltdown. After an hour of play to "unwind" from school, it's an unpredictable thing whether or not the Elder Monkey will be into his reading and writing or whether he'll have the grace of Godzilla. Mad as hell and once again we have to rebuild Tokyo in the aftermath.
And then there's Lord of the Toy, much like the quest for the One Ring but much more screaming and bitemarks. It will magically flip from a hobbit and elf team up one minute to the quibbling rage of orcs in an instant. I usually have to ride in and claim it for myself until peace has returned to the land.
I try to keep my cool, I put monkeys in time out, I take things away, I do what it takes. Then I remember, they are six and five and that means they are out see how far they can push things. Every parent needs a break from their kids, it's not selfish, it's simply burn out prevention. All those natural things that come with raising kids.
I try to ask what's wrong. It's always "Nothing." I know it's a great big nothing that at it's root is confusion about why we aren't together.
It's on these days of the stomping, when there are tears and nothing will console, that for a split second I twitch and wonder if I did the right thing in the long run. If perhaps trying to at least live together would have been the best solution. It never lasts very long but I still think it.
Stomped I tell you. I must now look for something to rub this footprint off my forehead. Damn plumbers.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Animal House
Today I was invited by my ex-wife to spend the day with her and the Younger Monkey mingling with some the other species at the Lowry Park Zoo. It was lots of fun, especially when we found out we could feed our child to the giraffes. (Only costs two tokens!) It didn't work because apparently he's seen Curious George enough that he's tight with his jungle homeys. They were all like, come here and we'll show you what we can do with my absurdly long tongue.
I took many, many pictures. Here are a few. Clicky to make biggy:
Later, the younger monkey wanted to take a rhinoceros home but I'm not sure that would have gone over too well with the neighbors. He gets this notion from my ex-wife who also wished to have real live pandas when she was his age and also now. I'm not certain, but I believe they were plotting to take the baby elephant home.
While we were enthused to reconnect the young one back to his people, the only actual monkeys, unfortunately, were lazy and uncooperative or were eating things out of each others butts. While this behavior is not uncommon and understandably in vogue amongst wild folk it's not something we necessarily wish him to start doing in his nightly tribal ritual. There was lots of rear end action going on all around that's all I could get for a view of the manatees.
Meanwhile, the Elder Monkey opted to head to a football game with the Grandparents. I am told that, while they played dismally, he enjoyed himself enough to come home adorning a mini Buc's jersey. Somehow I believe this desire to attend was inspired when, earlier in the week, he somehow psychically tuned in football on my television with no antenna. I can only speculate what is next as he then began to watch golf and found it equally as interesting.
I took many, many pictures. Here are a few. Clicky to make biggy:
Later, the younger monkey wanted to take a rhinoceros home but I'm not sure that would have gone over too well with the neighbors. He gets this notion from my ex-wife who also wished to have real live pandas when she was his age and also now. I'm not certain, but I believe they were plotting to take the baby elephant home.
While we were enthused to reconnect the young one back to his people, the only actual monkeys, unfortunately, were lazy and uncooperative or were eating things out of each others butts. While this behavior is not uncommon and understandably in vogue amongst wild folk it's not something we necessarily wish him to start doing in his nightly tribal ritual. There was lots of rear end action going on all around that's all I could get for a view of the manatees.
Meanwhile, the Elder Monkey opted to head to a football game with the Grandparents. I am told that, while they played dismally, he enjoyed himself enough to come home adorning a mini Buc's jersey. Somehow I believe this desire to attend was inspired when, earlier in the week, he somehow psychically tuned in football on my television with no antenna. I can only speculate what is next as he then began to watch golf and found it equally as interesting.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Monkeyism
While dropping crumbs from speaking with his mouth full of cookie:
My, how it's quite refreshment outside today, ain't you think?
-- Elder Monkey
Sometimes being six years old is channeling equals parts Eliza Doolittle and Pigpen.
My, how it's quite refreshment outside today, ain't you think?
-- Elder Monkey
Sometimes being six years old is channeling equals parts Eliza Doolittle and Pigpen.
Friday, November 03, 2006
Proof
Somewhere between my early childhood and now, I abandoned the notion of god.
Adam has posted some videos regarding the latest dysfunctional relationship between religion and science. I went to write a comment there about all of this and try as I might to be clear and concise, I am caught once again in my spin cycle of wanting be spiritual, yet not believing in a spirit or a soul. Wishing for that union of what we think we feel and what is actual.
I highly respect anyone that can happily settle on one camp or another, on something called a "truth". Ultimately, it all boils down to the quest for proof and how much we are willing to believe without fully understanding. If endeavoring on that journey is to define whether things like honesty and integrity are worth pursuing, then I am traveling that path in circles. I am in constant contact with those at opposite ends, those who have had an experience that to them qualifies as god at work and those who are succint in proving this to be a random incident. Either way, isn't is about accepting which of those ways is acceptable?
While redefining this perspective is one of the most valuable things I think I've done as an adult, I wish above all, I knew how to get out of that perpetual depression that comes from it. I know that it must be a necessity otherwise we would not have joyful times to balance it out. But it still saps the life from me.
I watch as how those around me who are looking for a purpose either flounder with apathy or blaze headstrong with conviction. The battlefield of intellectual warfare rarely brings me any conclusion or solace when it comes to all those so called higher things. I would like to think I am not ignorant. I would to think I am a rational being working towards the ends that should be met. And yet, I never know the definition of a given truth.
For whatever reason, it is unrelenting. The more I think, the more I withdraw, the more I fail. The more I act on impulse, the more my senses become alive, the more I progress. So I tip that balance that is between them and wait for the next upswing or downfall.
Some let it consume their life, as it did for me once upon a time, to the point of an unresponsive zombie. I wondered why god let it happen. I wondered why man will keep going. I wondered how I came to where I am now. I know about me and it seems that's the best I can do.
Now if you'll excuse me, the only wonder that I wish to have tonight is the kind where I marvel at the fact that I can play games with my children, call my mom, eat my dinner. And tell people I love them even though I don't have to know what that means.
Adam has posted some videos regarding the latest dysfunctional relationship between religion and science. I went to write a comment there about all of this and try as I might to be clear and concise, I am caught once again in my spin cycle of wanting be spiritual, yet not believing in a spirit or a soul. Wishing for that union of what we think we feel and what is actual.
I highly respect anyone that can happily settle on one camp or another, on something called a "truth". Ultimately, it all boils down to the quest for proof and how much we are willing to believe without fully understanding. If endeavoring on that journey is to define whether things like honesty and integrity are worth pursuing, then I am traveling that path in circles. I am in constant contact with those at opposite ends, those who have had an experience that to them qualifies as god at work and those who are succint in proving this to be a random incident. Either way, isn't is about accepting which of those ways is acceptable?
While redefining this perspective is one of the most valuable things I think I've done as an adult, I wish above all, I knew how to get out of that perpetual depression that comes from it. I know that it must be a necessity otherwise we would not have joyful times to balance it out. But it still saps the life from me.
I watch as how those around me who are looking for a purpose either flounder with apathy or blaze headstrong with conviction. The battlefield of intellectual warfare rarely brings me any conclusion or solace when it comes to all those so called higher things. I would like to think I am not ignorant. I would to think I am a rational being working towards the ends that should be met. And yet, I never know the definition of a given truth.
For whatever reason, it is unrelenting. The more I think, the more I withdraw, the more I fail. The more I act on impulse, the more my senses become alive, the more I progress. So I tip that balance that is between them and wait for the next upswing or downfall.
Some let it consume their life, as it did for me once upon a time, to the point of an unresponsive zombie. I wondered why god let it happen. I wondered why man will keep going. I wondered how I came to where I am now. I know about me and it seems that's the best I can do.
Now if you'll excuse me, the only wonder that I wish to have tonight is the kind where I marvel at the fact that I can play games with my children, call my mom, eat my dinner. And tell people I love them even though I don't have to know what that means.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Mr. Knox, Sir
I keep stepping in sticky blue goo on my carpet. It's also kind of masochistic to read Dr. Seuss, therefore I must release my frustration in verse: Fox in Socks (click to listen)
How Not To Make A Lifesaver
Things I learned on Halloween:
It's always best to make things yourself. Except if your homemade lightsaber would look more like a flashlight with bling than the $8 Target one. And at what point do we learn that it's "lightsaber" and not "lifesaver"?
Never assume anything about the character of your kids until they've been given the ultimate choice: money or candy. In a head scratching role reversal, the Younger Monkey opted gleefully for the spoonful of pennies and the Elder Monkey went for licorice treats.
Sometimes your Mr. Incredible man boobs can get in the way when trying stand on your head.
A Darth Vader wedgie utilizes the deepest unseen aspects of the dark side of the force. And never will be again unless you want some time out.
Okay, what do you say?
Younger Monkey: "Thank you so much!"
No, baby, what do you say first.
"Trick-or-Treat!"
(Maybe they are trained a little too well...)
So what did you like best this year?
Elder Monkey: "I liked when daddy's silly friend came over and gave us glow sticks and then I ran him through with them because I am evil. That was fun."
Younger Monkey: Eee ee aaa oooo...zzzzzzzzzz...
It's the only time of year that you wake up with an unknown bright blue sticky substance on your floor the next morning and you don't question it OR pass the blame on sugar-high monkeys.
I suspect the giant pile of crap on my living room table. So now I get to become a magician and pull a vanishing act with it before Friday. I'm thinking of sending it all to a poor starving college student. Otherwise I'll just end up with a reenactment of Speed 3: Revenge of Willy Wonka.
Younger Monkey: "Thank you so much!"
No, baby, what do you say first.
"Trick-or-Treat!"
(Maybe they are trained a little too well...)
Elder Monkey: "I liked when daddy's silly friend came over and gave us glow sticks and then I ran him through with them because I am evil. That was fun."
Younger Monkey: Eee ee aaa oooo...zzzzzzzzzz...
I suspect the giant pile of crap on my living room table. So now I get to become a magician and pull a vanishing act with it before Friday. I'm thinking of sending it all to a poor starving college student. Otherwise I'll just end up with a reenactment of Speed 3: Revenge of Willy Wonka.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
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