And So On

Charlie Brown's Long Road To Insanity

2011-10-04T06:18:00.000-07:00

In all the excitement of running around looking after my youngins, I forgot that this week is the anniversary of the first Peanuts strip. Please enjoy. I also include a classic sociopathic Lucy for your pleasure. Or hers, at least.

Hearing this, Charlie Brown begins plotting his vengeance.

"No seriously, sister. You need treatment."

Mega-Narrative Versus Crocosaurus

2011-10-03T13:06:00.000-07:00

"I have references! Rawr!"

I love a lot of things about my kids. But one of the most amazing things about them is their ability to take elements that are supposed to be scripted (like movies and toys and such) and take them wildly off script. It is endlessly entertaining. Almost every day I need to stop whatever I am doing just to listen to the craziest story ever told. These stories frequently involve the same cast of characters. Crocosaurus, Crack-Bear, and Commander Taviri are a part of the core group. Other bit players come in and out, including Rainbow Baby and Bluke. The kids take turns being "in charge" of certain characters, and each kid can have a very different take on the backstory. It gets confusing.

I realize this takes a little explaining. (Especially Crack-Bear. I totally take the blame for that.) So let me do a little Dramatis Personae for you.

Crocosaurus is a crocodile toy, given to us years ago by a good friend. He is frequently involved with fighting bad guys and protecting others. He also watches babies. He's kind of a reptilian nanny beast. He's meaner when Arkaedi is in charge of him.

Crack-Bear is the bad guy. He was named after an unfortunate slip of the tongue by Papa. The bear had just shown up out of nowhere when we were living in a sketchy neighborhood, and I had no idea where he had wandered in from... so I told the kids that they could have the crack bear if I washed it. Viri of course named him Crack-Bear immediately, and my careless talk had created a nemesis for every other toy. Viri frequently tries to reform him, and make him good. According to Arkaedi, however, he should be sent away. That girl has no compassion.

Commander Taviri is the space faring warrior alter-ego of Taviri. He has a magic watch, a super ship, and many hundreds of powers and gadgets. He's basically a Silver Age Superman, he can do anything until the narrative requires a challenge.

In addition to these core stories, there are hundreds of little variants. Many of these are cars and trucks who need cared for or helped. Rainbow Baby is a stock car who frequently runs into trouble and needs to be saved. Bluke is another car in peril. (A "blue car," hence Bluke. Arkaedi was proud of that one.) The cars names are a source of contention for the kids. Arkaedi is a fan of pun based names, or colorful ones. So there is a Cocoa, a Mac...

I wish I could convey the endless variety that these games take. It's astounding. It's like a scene from Toy Story if Andy were simultaneously channeling every science fiction image, fairy story, and PBS cartoon ever made. It's wonderful.

I still feel a little bad about Crack-Bear. He's an okay guy, he just has a problem. If Commander Taviri spent less time fighting Evil and more time building planetary treatment facilities...

Occupy Away!

2011-10-02T18:13:00.000-07:00

Old Jaded Jack

The whole occupation of Wall Street thing is making me sad. It reminds me of my age, my anger levels, and my own inability to have any faith anymore that people can turn things around.

Not that I believe that they can't, either. That would almost be easier. Nihilism would be a welcome escape, and escape is one option that I never choose. It's just that I no longer have the passionate belief that people will create a better society that I once had. I'm not sure where exactly that belief went; but I'd like it back.

Jack Kerouac became a bitter old man rather quickly after becoming famous. He avoided or rejected many of his old friends, and took to drinking and spouting conservative rhetoric instead of traveling and writing. Everything that fueled his earlier creative impulses seemed lost. He chose the escapist route. Or perhaps he just fell into it. Alcohol chose it for him.

I'm not that person. I'm not jaded. I'm still essentially a positive person. But my positivity has become focused. Instead of the broad, sweeping romanticism of my youth it's a scalpel of positive energy. I'm positive about my daily interactions. I'm enthusiastic about individuals in a way that the jaded Jacks of the world don't seem to be.

To cite an example: As I was walking through the store today, my mind was on a series of frustrations. I was angry and sad. And a woman cut me off, pulling her cart in front of me and stopping in confusion. She was an old woman, and I smiled at her. As much as the world in general was bothering me, I had nothing but affection for the face of this old woman standing in front of me. In a broad sense, I was upset at humanity. But this specific woman, how could I be mad at her? She was just an old lady trying to get her Sunday shopping done.

That's how I feel about the protests. I'm irritated by their futility, in the grand scheme. But you, individual protester- when I see your photo, I smile. I like you. I can't extrapolate that feeling to the broad movement, or our future as a species. But I can hope you turn out okay. I hope I don't become too jaded for that.

Book of the Month Club: Two Popular Books and A Crazy Poet

2011-09-27T12:16:00.000-07:00

I have more time on my hands lately than I've had in years. Especially if I let that pile of laundry just sit there. Staring at me. Accusingly. This has resulted in some good and bad things. One of the good things is my reading list is actually getting read. Which is awesome. So I've decided to post the occasional update about it, in the form of this book of the month club style review. My reading list has always been supremely nerdy. Which is no great surprise. It leans towards science fiction, fantasy, and poetry. Although I'm not averse to reading something else that crosses my admittedly narrow field of vision, it is almost always one of these books on my desk. So, the three nerdy books of the month, in no particular order.

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins was a great gym read. It's fast paced and exciting, and I read most of it while on the treadmill at the gym. Which is weird- dystopian young adult science fiction isn't an obvious choice for a book reading while running. But it makes sense, in a way. The book is about a scary future in which different towns have been subjugated by a central Capital city, and are forced to send two tributes to compete in the titular games. The games are essentially a gladiatorial where everyone fights, and the last person to survive wins. Not an original premise, but a well-executed one. It was a fun read. Apparently they are making a film, which is a shame. The protagonist will be turned into a generically hot girl. The character in the book is refreshing, realistic, and three dimensional. She seems like a real girl, given the situation in which she finds herself. I'm starting the second book in the trilogy soon.

Speaking of second books in a series, I'm also reading The Magician King, the second in a series by Lev Grossman. It is easy to describe this as a Harry Potter for adults, which is fair enough, though it doesn't do the book justice. It's really more of a book about how these escapist fantasies like Narnia and Harry Potter are a response to the psychological trauma of our society. And despite some excessive drama, the books are fantastic. The story centers around graduates of a magical school (featured in the first book) who are living in a Narnia-esque kingdom. The main character is a typical "smart outcast" stereotype, but the author writes with an amazing self awareness. It's a meta concept that could have easily become silly, but he makes it work. In a way I'm shocked at how popular this series is, but it's nice to see.

And of course, any of my reading lists would not be complete without the obligatory poetry rant. I've actually been catching up on quite a bit of poetry this month, including some Susan Howe, Robert Duncan, Charles Reznikoff, and others. But sitting on my desk is a collection of poetry that is simultaneously amazing and responsible for horrors in poetry: The Poetical Works of John Keats. It's no secret that most poetry is terrible. There a few reasons for this. One of which is the idea that poetry is simply prose narratives told slightly askew. One is that love of words is all a poet needs. But a major problem has been the inability of current generations to bring the energy and passion for language that people like Keats took for granted and translate it into a modern verse. Some try and succeed, of course. But most fail, because they can't effectively use the tool of language. When Keats writes with the particular rhyme and meter of his age, he was using the poetic vernacular of Romantics, the words of his society. He was experimenting, but within a framework that made the poems work. Poets today are either experimenting for the sake of experimenting, or using prose as though it is poetry. Keats was doing neither, though no one bothers to read him to remember that.

Space Mutiny: Demanding the Huge Basement Gets Furnished Or Else!

2011-09-24T19:33:00.000-07:00

Thankfully I have something to watch when I eventually get tired of guarding children from monsters. As well as names for monsters!

The Horrible Awful Sleep Conundrum

2011-09-24T18:09:00.000-07:00

I dread the evening routine at our house. Typically it involves brushing teeth and story time, and then lying in bed arguing with Taviri for hours. He is scared to be alone at night, so we usually stay with him until he falls asleep. This has been an easy enough thing in the past- there were days when he was asleep in ten or fifteen minutes, and we get up and go on with our day. Lately, however, it's been a problem. He does not want to sleep. He is scared of the closet, of the imaginary monsters. Tonight he told Jaime that he "feels like something is there, and I'm just barely getting away!" Of course he has to freak me out thoroughly in the process of keeping me up. The weird thing is that I'm not sure what to do. He isn't arguing to stay up, or get something. Even if I were inclined to just "give in" and do what he wants, there isn't anything to do! I can tell him his room is safe, but he stopped trusting anything he couldn't verify with experiment at age 3. And honestly in a world where Michelle Bachmann is considered a viable political candidate it feels disingenuous to tell him there are no monsters. This is a way in which having a sensible, matter of fact daughter cheers me up. Arkaedi is just as creative as he is-- her games are full of voices and characters and strange events. But she just deals with everything. There are, as she describes them, "monsters with no eyes" in her room. Cause for concern, sure. But nothing to miss a nap over. She is going to get to bed and cuddle her lemur, or pink Godzilla, and go to sleep. The monster will just have to accept that. Taviri is all histrionics. Arkaedi is business. I never thought that one thing I would really wish for would be for the kids to go to bed on time. I've become my mother. Except... I kind of believe him when he talks about the monsters. But like Arkaedi, I want a good eight hours of sleep before I have to deal with them.

Princesses with Frogs, Ponies with Wings

2011-09-10T17:07:00.000-07:00

I've recently finished dozens of books. The one advantage of being underemployed is plenty of time. And libraries are one of my favorite uses of free time. Arkaedi knows the poetry section better than most three year olds, I would imagine.

One book in particular, called Cinderella Ate My Daughter, is a light, poppy, conversational book about a woman (Peggy Orenstein) who has a little girl. This little girl is enamored of princesses. Specifically, the trademarked Disney Princess line. This book is my first exposure to this culture. Somehow, perhaps due to her age or our peer group, Arkaedi has no interest in princesses. Having lived in either Seattle or Ithaca, I am surrounded by parents who closely monitor what their children watch and read. There is an across the board tendency to avoid commercial toys and games. I don't think anything of that stuff, really. To me it's a relic of the past. I even call her "Princess" sometimes, but she doesn't usually respond. She prefers Arkaedi. Or, as she says, "Unkaedi." I hope that she is just pronouncing it incorrectly, but perhaps it's a code word, and she is actually a changeling. Maybe the real Arkaedi is in fairyland.

Today I had my first taste of what could be in store for me. We were at a friend's party, for a little girl Arkaedi's age. The theme was unicorns. "Ponies!" Arkaedi immediately exclaimed. This was awesome. She even got a goody bag that included her own unicorn toy. We got into a discussion about unicorns, pegasus, ponies... but she didn't care. They were all ponies. "You call them that! I say they are ponies with wings! Ponies with horns!" She will have no dictionary nazism. Things are what she says they are! I actually came out of the conversation a little excited about unicorns, no matter what we were calling them. Which is strangely embarrassing.

I loved the unicorn party, because it was not exclusively corporate. They weren't a trademarked type of unicorn (Sorry, pony with horns). They were just fun magical toys, and the kids were enamored. The imaginative play was there, the ubiquitous scripting that invades most children's activities was avoided. It was great.

The one thing that really sticks with me from the Peggy Orenstein book, however, is the association of looks with a girl's value. Beyond the corporate shilling, which I think I can mitigate to some extent, there is the larger problem of "Princess" being code for thin, white, and perfect. This is a lot harder. For one, my normal nickname for Arkaedi is Pretty Sue. Sure, I tell her she is smart, and strong, etc. Which research does indicate is very important to avoiding some of the traps of self esteem being tied to looks. But I still call her Pretty. Many times a day. As if enforcing the concept of pretty as central to her being. Or, more accurately, focusing everyone on her looks.

And the other side of the problem for Arkaedi: She IS pretty. She is really gorgeous. Everyone says that about their kids, of course. But Arkaedi is prettier than a lot of kids. Her big blue eyes, her amazing hair... these are going to get her attention. At three, she doesn't know that. She doesn't seem to even know what pretty is, in truth. She says I'm pretty, which is a sure sign that the concept is not sinking in. Whatever I am, it is most certainly not pretty. I have never occupied the same general area as pretty. Scruffily handsome, maybe, on my best day. But Arkaedi has learned that pretty means smart, beautiful, awesome... whatever she feels like. Pretty is Pony with Horns, not Unicorn.

I wonder how I can hold on to that idea. Or if I should abandon calling her Pretty. Switch to some other nickname. I can certainly come up with a great nickname, if I need to improvise. Something that tells her how powerful, amazing, courageous, charming, and wonderful she is. Something that tells her that when I'm sad or confused or feel like a failure all I need to do is look at her to feel like life is perfect. Something that tells her that I need her to be her, with all her heart, every day of her life.

I'm sure I'll come up with something good. Then she'll change it if she wants. That's Unkaedi.

Comics in the Age of Interwebz

2011-09-05T11:31:00.000-07:00

Daredevil, I had no idea your origin story was so R rated!

I've always loved comics. As I got older, and the typical teenage interests of girls and guitars superseded my love of comics, I lost track of the medium. I'm just the kind of person that marketing gimmicks like series reboots are made for-- and as such, I am in the process of getting a few of the #1s that DC is releasing this month. I don't know how sensible of a move it is. I mean how many people are like me, and enjoy gateways into old series via reboots? I'm guessing not a lot. I suppose DC is guessing differently. I hope they do well. I'll enjoy the new issues. Especially since I have the perfect comic viewing platform, my iPad.

In most ways I was always a Luddite. It was a peculiar dogma, and it meant a lot to me for a short period of my life. I never would have thought of comics on anything other than newsprint. I even preferred the older newsprint, four color comics over the glossier versions that came out in my teens. In hindsight, I think that was as much about a nostalgia for years gone by as it was a real aesthetic appreciation. As I've written here recently, I have an amazingly unhealthy anachronistic streak. Comics were a part of that.

I'll read the DC reboot on my iPad. I already read older comics, the newspaper strips, and a few webcomics on my iPad. I guess my Luddite side has lost out. Or been buried... it'll resurface during my much anticipated (by me) crotchety old man phase. (Scheduled to begin at age 45. I'm getting in early.)

I think the disappearance of my anti-technology tendencies is related to my general distaste for ideological positions as I grow. I have no more patience for abstracts ruling my life. At 15, I was excited by the TRUTH that I could KNOW... At 25 I felt obligated to pursue the ideas that had meaning to me. At 35... I am happy to make an effort to be a decent person, to follow my hear, as cliched as it sounds. I'm less concerned with abstractions as truth, and more interested in just living my life. Perhaps crotchety old man me will be back to living my life out of a pamphlet. More likely I'll find everything highly ridiculous and amusing, like a Vonnegut caricature.

It would be supremely silly and awesome if I grow up to live my life as an abstraction in an effort to avoid being an abstraction. I would appreciate that. Probably even find it wryly amusing.

Regardless, the new comics will be fun. Hopefully they will include less training montages of people in tiny underpants. I'll be fine if they do. I'd hate to be dogmatic about it.

Rearranging The Life Of Pretty And Boy

2011-08-11T07:47:00.000-07:00

It would be nice to know exactly what is best for my kids. I imagine that would save a lot of time and energy. Certainly it would save a ton of worry. Before I had kids, I didn't really worry. Sure, I had concerns, there were certain things that bothered me, etc. Having kids, though... that's a whole new area of worry.

I spend several hours each day working on job application stuff. Refining resumes, sending out documents, all of that silly nonsense that comes with finding a job. Prior to the kids, I didn't really do that. I just stumbled into this job or that, moved from place to place. I was always busy. I've had a job or been a full time student (or both) since I was in kindergarten. But it didn't matter. Now it does.

We're thinking of where to live next year. One plan involves living apart, so I can teach and J can work. It may be necessary, for the money. It wouldn't be awful, and we've done it before. But is it the best thing for the kids? I don't really know. I can't separate how much I want them with me all of the time with how much they need me with them. If I have a job two hours away, does that make their life worse? A little worse?

I wish I knew.

It's silly, like I have a privileged version of the classic pioneer problem. Instead of heading across the country in a wagon and braving disease and death, I'll be a few hours away with a car. And technology that means I can call them on my computer every night and see them. (I imagine if Lewis and Clark had Skype it would have taken at least some of the drama out of the excursion.)

But still.

I suppose I'll see how it all shakes out. For now it means a lot of extra hugs for Pretty and Boy. And plenty of "Stop kissing me, you're spiky!" Which is true.

Joining The SCA: Sanity Challenged Anachronists

2011-08-06T10:51:00.000-07:00

"Is this how time normally passes? Really slow, and in order?" The Doctor

Reading the recently released Autobiography of Mark Twain, itself a kind of anachronism, I am struck by how anachronistic Twain himself seems. Granted, in the context of an autobiography time is necessarily warped according to perception, narrative, etc. But he seems to pine for an earlier time constantly as he writes about the political and social problems of his own time. It's a fascinating read for many reasons, but one of the most intriguing aspects for me is the sense that even in his time, the earlier decades were, to him, a bucolic paradise that we were moving away from without cause. He decries the evils of the era, certainly; his disdain for slavery is present from the start. But he also feels, apparently, as though the evils of his time are increasing, moving away from that better time towards an industrial/mechanistic Abaddon. It's a sentiment that would not be out of place today, centuries ago... or perhaps in the future. There is often a sense that we are living in end times, and the world is getting worse. A kind of nostalgia, or fear of the modern. I can imagine a few places where the sentiment is less, or there is a kind of enthusiasm for modern society (the Renaissance, the turn of the 20th century, the 50s seemed to have some writers who were extremely positive about their respective eras.)

I am definitely guilty of idealizing the past. I often wonder what it would be like to move to one of these different eras, living the life of one of my ancestors. It's silly: the reality would be more dangerous and slower than I can imagine. (I'm a person who gets bored in a town with fewer than two hundred thousand people. Village life is not for me.)

There are undoubtably aspects that were better. The big business excess and deception that Twain decried in 1870 has continued, and gotten worse, in the 21st century. Wage slavery (which was called wage slavery, even then) has become the norm. He doesn't mention crime as much as poverty, perhaps because he was insulated from crime by his social position, perhaps because he simply didn't see it as being the concern that poverty was. In many ways, however, he is talking about the same society we live in today. The problems are the same, the joys the same. He looks backwards to his youth as a better time, but not a substantially different one.

Which I suppose is probably true of myself as well. As much as I'd love to journey to the 19th century and walk around, take in the reality of the world at that time... I'd still be me. I'd still be eating, drinking, thinking. I'd like to think my life would be more intense, exciting, real; I'd like to think the problems would be somehow more manageable. But I don't really believe that they would be.

Still, seeing the photograph of Twain in 1906, sitting on a porch, smoking a cigar makes me want to be there. Irrationally, stupidly, I pine for that past. Maybe it is a simple as an escape from the insanity of my era into the insanity of a different era. Maybe it's a chance to look at the world that existed before the problems of my time came into focus. My generation's mistakes were yet to be made. My parents' generations were yet to make their lapses in judgment.

Most likely it's a chance to wear cool suits and carry my pocket watch without looking as dorky as I do now.

Yeah, that is definitely it.

Gamera Versus the Doctor

2011-07-31T13:16:00.000-07:00

A lot has been written about how the pop culture of certain places and times reflect the psychological and philosophical make up of those places or times. I never thought too deeply about it, to be honest, since my consumption of pop culture is odd or random enough that I don't feel too deeply tied into the zeitgeist. But one thing has been banging up against my sensibilities for a few months, and I can't help but bring it up.

(Honestly if I were a better person I'd spend the time talking about how you can't search anything online without finding racist photoshops of Obama. I searched various disparate things today, including turtles, Doctor Who, Totoro, etc. They almost all had racist Obama stuff in the first few dozen hits. Seriously, people? This is what you are doing with your time? Please, please for the love of God just be a small group of racist jerks flooding the web with these images. The thought that many thousands of people are doing this is physically painful. But I digress.)

(Digressed.)

It's the U.K./Japan pop culture that fascinates me. Ostensibly very different places, the U.K. and Japan share some similarities. They are both island nations. But border larger, historically significant cultures. Both were devastated during WWII. But one odd, interesting thing they share that interests me: They both produce pop culture that other countries are really nuts about.

I wonder what it is, exactly. The pop culture itself could hardly be more different. I defy anyone to find a more significant connection between Gamera and Dr. Who than the photo above. (And please, if you find it, make a shirt of it. And send it to me. L, black, short sleeve. Thanks.)

Even the response to the similarities is different. In the wake of the destruction of war, Japan reflected on death with Daikaiju and horror. Great Britain made silly comedies and a very logical positivist science fiction show. A show that originally was intended to serve as educational material for kids. Both being small island countries, Japan made fiction in which it dictated terms to the U.N., while the President of the United States shows up to take over when things get serious in Doctor Who.

Why do these two cultures' film and television fascinate us so much? It doesn't happen with China. Or France. Or Australia. (We briefly considered Australia. Thankfully Paul Hogan threw himself on his sword and saved us all decades of frustration. Good on ya, mate. Good on ya.)

It almost makes me want to spend some time in the U.K. I've lived in Japan for years. Maybe I should go to the other island nation that makes most of the television and films that I watch. It'd give me a chance to find out what the deal is with these island nations making cool shows. And pitch my idea for a crossover series, where space marine Rowan Atkinson hunts down escapees from Monster Island with the help of his time machine. I'd call it Dr. Black Adder, Monster Killer.

Man I still can't write titles.

Look You Upon My Haircut and Despair

2011-07-25T11:25:00.000-07:00

I really enjoy old educational videos. It's a particular problem of mine. I should probably seek some form of professional help. But there is something about outdated pedagogy, horrible acting, and strange and upsetting haircuts that just make me happy. Like I said: it is certainly worthy of years of powerful therapeutic intervention.

I first discovered these educational films as a child in rural West Virginia. We were subjected to a ton of these. We generally watched them on old reel-to-reel machines that, while perfectly quaint additions to some steampunk themed party today, were simply cheap pieces of junk back then. (To be clear: they are cheap pieces of junk now too. Just cool cheap junk.)

I rediscovered them later in life when Mystery Science Theater 3000 started airing them before the shorter, more Roger Corman-y films they showed. I instantly recognized them- creepy, dull, but somehow very real. Like a horror villain. I couldn't get enough. Recently, Rifftrax began airing similar shorts, with a broader (and arguably even creepier) selection of films. Some of these newer ones seemed aimed at urban schools, which delighted me to no end. In part because it made me realize that the super white and suburban short films we saw as a kid were meant for us! Someone had thought through the process long enough to decide, "Oh these bland and terrible films are being sent to West By God Virginia. Make sure to make them PURE WHITE and even duller than usual. Those kids can't handle the truth."

With all the madness for technology in education and Web 2.0 nonsense in schools today, this kind of mass produced madness is probably lost forever. I kind of hope not, personally. I hope that I can bring it back into my classroom, if only for a day. I want kids to study it as a history lesson. My generation may have not been through war, kids. But we saw shag haircuts floating over horrible special effects. We were told about our bodies by afro-sporting white guys in jumpsuits. We learned that drugs were free and available at every school bus stop. Unfortunately, we also learned that those same drugs could make the shag haired freaks in jumpsuits go away...

And that, kids, is why we grew up to be the generation that created reality tv. Don't do drugs.

Great Ecolocalizer Article

2011-07-21T10:20:00.001-07:00

Commander Taviri And The School Search

2011-07-21T10:03:00.000-07:00

I'm in the middle of an intense, challenging, and somewhat frustrating job search. I've reached the point where I am no longer concerned about where, really. I just want to teach. It's funny, really. Teaching is a job that many think is torture; I have any number of friends who are shocked that I love working with small children. Yet I have spent more than a year struggling to be allowed to do that job. Viri tells me that I'm a good teacher. It's very sweet of him, and I love the positive attitude he has inherited from his Papa. It's better than a criticism of me, surely. Although it'd be hilarious if he was constantly judging me. Not nice, but highly amusing.

I'm excited about the possibilities in my first few years of teaching. I'm anxious to start shaping my classroom, developing my own professional persona. The real work of my life has been to find myself as a father, as a teacher, and as a person. In all of the professional, personal, and spiritual changes that I have been through in the past few decades the everyday elements of work and jobs has been secondary. To the extent that it has existed at all, really. I've never been a career person.

But now my career has met my personal goals. Being a father and husband means finding a way to settle down into a job. Growing as a person means following my goals as a teacher and a colleague. Furthering my scholarly goals means gathering data and learning how to be a better teacher. The different threads have intersected. It's strangely poetic.

It struck me a few weeks ago that if I had a million dollars I would still be looking for a job as a teacher. I know that's easy to say, but I really believe it's true. I'd still be looking for my own classroom. I'd be striving to teach the kids about "constellations, math, and whatever they don't know" as Taviri says. (He's got a pretty exact idea of curriculum.)

I'm continuing to search. I don't have a million dollars, of course. But it's nice to know that I'm happy with wear I'm heading, regardless.* I'm excited about the next stage in my life. I'm ready to have my own classroom. I'll even teach more than constellations and math. I hope Viri doesn't mind.

*I will still take a million dollars. You know, if you got it to spare.**
**Seriously, we're broke.

Playtime! You Will Play Or Be Deleted!

2011-07-14T13:35:00.000-07:00

My hobbies may be having some detrimental effects on my children. The kids are currently in a round of "Doctor Who aided by Commander Taviri and Commander Arkaedi versus the Space Zombie Trolls," and the game shows no signs of ending anytime this millenia. It leads to some amazing scenes, scenes which make me wish the kids had Michael Bay's budget and a year to just film themselves. Granted the story would be a little random, with the trolls sometimes being killed by Magic Electricity Bolts and sometimes being turned to stone by the Wizard. The Wizard is a little vague, being Commander Taviri's... alter-ego? Friend? Brother? He's not always sure. (I'd ask, but he fell through a time portal and is a kid right now. A kid who has no answers.)

A high point of the epic film would be Arkaedi's voices. We always joked that with her cute little voice, it would be hilarious to have her say violent things. Her own action film where the last thing the villain sees is a pretty shock of red hair, and a cute face saying, "When you get to hell... tell 'em Pretty Pretty sent you." She has inherited her mother's penchant for mimicry, and it is awesome. Hearing Lizard Men speaking in lizard voices, interrupted by ten to twenty second twitches, is comedy gold. I imagine Commander Arkaedi as the light hearted sidekick in Taviri's gripping space/time/zombie adventure. But I guess the final edit could reveal her true heroism. She certainly has the "hair flying backwards" part of female heroism down pat.

The fun part about their games is how they have no worries about continuity. Commander Arkaedi runs around shouting "Exterminate!" like the Daleks, then the Enterprise beams in and stops her, only to have her turn into Pingu. Then, for a few hours, she's a penguin. There is no call back to her earlier Dalek existence, no story where she laments all of the deaths she caused before she moved to Claymation Antarctica...She's just Pingu now. She is selling fish. Take that, fanboys!

By far the greatest Arkaedi contribution to the game is her "Beaky" shadow puppets. She makes her hands into chicken beaks, and the shadows cast by her hands become "Beaky." Sometimes Beaky is joined by other shadow creatures, but they all say "Beak! Beak!" at every opportunity. Wait, now that I think about it... they are strangely similar to her Dalek character. Maybe there is reason to her game after all!

Wait... Maybe she's the villain! She's really is masquerading as a cute little girl!

I have to admit, she fooled me for these three years. When I get to hell, I'll warn them... Pretty Pretty is coming...

"Beak! Beak! Exterminate!"

Album Title: Music Belies Meaning

2011-07-12T09:34:00.000-07:00

I have such a strange relationship with music. I feel like it has taken such a large amount of my energy over the years... yet I periodically reject it in favor of other interests. Perhaps it's an aspect of my general flighty nature. I get excited, enthusiastic by political music, but I know that real meaning is not conveyed through what music gets played.

(That rhyme was unintentional. I promise.)

(If intentional I would have found a way to shoehorn "abeyance" and "conveyance" into the article. My word nerdiness knows no bounds, but my bad jokes, thankfully, do.)

Perhaps nothing better illustrates that than the band I posted above. Now, I love Propagandhi, despite the silliness and the preachiness and all the -nesses that make them, objectively, not a terribly good band. But they defined a clear period of my life, in between hating different musical types. On that very album is the song Anchorless, which I alternatively hated and loved.

(I'd go on to hate and love John's next band, The Weakerthans. Currently I love them again.)

(Wait, maybe... No I love them.)

I'm not sure what it is about this medium that makes me vacillate between extremes. I don't do it with my (more serious?) intellectual and spiritual pursuits. I don't suddenly "hate" Sufism or get all into Glenn Beck. Why does music cause such a flux in what I like? I dont even do it with things that really do deserve some of my creative scorn, like science fiction, fantasy, or poetry.

(Honestly if anything poetry would deserve the kind of waffling that I give to music. Why do I still like Gary Snyder? I just do. Why do I not heap some scorn on Ferlinghetti for his later work? I can't, that's why!)

Maybe it's a two-fold problem. Music is both more ubiquitous and more intimate than other ideas. I can step back from my politics and think, but music is always there. Songs get played over and over, and they get into my brain. Maybe the omnipresence of music is the problem.

I'm going to try and keep my perspective here. Jaime's current favorite is mewithoutyou, and I felt myself falling into a strange dislike of them. Then I realized I was being ridiculous, and I was just too used to them. They are a great band. Once again they are a soundtrack to a certain period of my life, but still hold meaning for me today.

In fact, check them out. They're awesome:

Stages, Steps, Shifts...Something With an "S"

2011-07-03T11:58:00.000-07:00

"AND study the classic books,
the straight history
all of it candid."
-E. Pound

Contrary to Pound's excellent advice, I've never been one for sustained scholarship. In fact, I've been quite critical of it, disappointed in some of the menial places it leads writing and thinking. I'm often wrong about that, and miss some great writing and thinking. I can't help but keep up the criticism, however: I think it's a general trend towards movement in my personality.

Wait, I can explain that vague comment.

I was always driven to move, to expand. I have always had a hard time staying in one place, one program... even one country. I see everything in my life as stages towards the next event. This is due to some good reasons (desire to explore, intellectual curiosity, passion for various subjects and geographies) and some bad ones (need for stimuli, tendency towards boredom, an at times critical nature). I didn't, to continue the literary metaphor that Pound used, always desire the candid and historical nature of what I was experiencing. I needed to move on, expand, see the next horizon.

Jaime and I are fond of the mental exercise where you imagine that you've won the lottery. Say you have millions of dollars. What would you do? There are several ways to play this, but Jaime and I focus on two aspects. One: Imagine you have millions, and want to use that millions to live. Two: Imagine that you have millions to live on, and you think of what you would do with your free time.

I like the second one, because it is a better exercise for planning what to do with your life. What would you spend your time doing? This works well for Jaime and I, since we're people who like to work. I guess if my goal was to lay around all day, the exercise would be a failure. But I really want to work, to do something. So, what would I do?

I would teach. I would write poetry. But most of all, I'd travel. I'd spend time going all over the world. I'd find a school in India that let me teach, a school in Japan, Brazil... I'd move. I'm not driven by money. I care nothing for money. But it'd be nice to have the freedom to move around.

So, this week I am working on applying for jobs, finding some places to teach. Maybe here, maybe somewhere else. I don't really care where. Because what I want to do is teach, write my poems, and move around. Staying in one place for years is torturous tome, for all of those good and bad reasons.

Labels, Meanings, and the Secret Pretension of Self

2011-06-27T12:17:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine has been involved in an interesting exploration of what it means to identify with a certain group. As is often the case with ideas like this, it leads to some frustrating wheel spinning, but can also yield some insight into your own thought processes. In an effort to maximize the latter, I'm putting some of my ideas down to better explore how these labels can have meaning for me. For me it is important to understand, how does the group identity of a label apply to an individual? Is it a meaningful exercise at all? I'd argue yes... but I'll get to that in a moment.

Some labels are merely descriptive. I say merely, because they don't convey membership in a group per se, but just state a fact of a person's identity. To say I have green eyes, for instance, doesn't imply a real connection to others with green eyes. It just says, Hey, my eyes are green. It's descriptive. The same can be said for a lot of different aspects of a person. But why does it seem to become more meaningful when I connect it other aspects of my self? Why is being, say, a poet, connect me to a history and an ideology that being a green-eyed person does not? Or does it?

I sometimes try and compile labels about myself. Just for fun, in a sense, but also to explore the value of those labels for me as an individual. I can say even a cursory discussion of who I am would include the following labels: Vegetarian, Sufi/Muslim, Poet, Teacher, Father, Husband, Punk rock, Straight edge, Anarchist... the list goes on. I'd argue that these are the main ones, both in terms of how people view me and how I see myself in the world. But what do these say about my membership to other groups? Are they completely personal?

Some are problematic. Sufi/Muslim covers a broad swath of the world. Many of whom would dislike or even hate me, and many of whom would disagree with me as much as I disagreed with them. Punk rock has become vague and ill-defined. But they are still true, and unifying practices mean those labels are real to me. I can't meditate and pray in a masjid and not be Sufi, even if certain people wish me to cease. I can't listen to music and discuss my philosophy without being punk rock, even if I often wish to cease using the label.

Some are descriptive. Father. Straight edge. I have kids. I don't drink. Yet these still invoke a certain community, a connection between myself and people. Is that valid?

I'm exploring this. The labels don't bother me like they did when I was 20. They don't excite me like they did when I was 15. They just are. I'm more comfortable with the sense of an individual being part of a larger whole while functioning as a unique individual. I'm still not so quick to be the lone hold-out, rejecting any sense of individuality a la the Life of Brian guy ("SHH!"). But I'm not so concerned with the pretentious notion that I am somehow above "those people" who need a label to be somebody.

And perhaps holding those labels can help me. Holding the discussion certainly has.

Wait Can I Do That?

2011-01-22T08:54:00.000-08:00

Between a high, solid wall and an egg that breaks against it, I will always stand on the side of the egg.

-Haruki Murakami

There's often a debate that takes place between opposing viewpoints that goes something like this. One person supports an aspect of government policy. They argue for it. Another disagrees, and argues against it. Sometimes, the other person will be accused of hating America for opposing a government policy or two. Usually a conservative person accuses a liberal person of hating America. I'm not sure why this is; it seems like opposing health care reform could be hating America as easily as opposing a military action, but whatever. That's the way it goes. I don't especially care. Because I think I really do hate America.

Am I allowed to do that? I think I might be.

Of course I don't hate people. Or the land. I like the forests and the mountains. Right now there is a foot or so of snow on my lawn, and I am quite fond of the snow. American snow. But I hate the government. I really do. I want to like it. I want to like roads and water pipes and schools. I think they're great. But I have to hate them, because they are all jumbled up with laws and customs and habits that don't work for me. It's a shame. It seems like roads and water pipes and schools could really work together to make a natural space suited to human habitation. I guess it doesn't work out that way in practice.

There has been a lot of talk in the wake of the Tucson shooting about civil discourse. I don't think that's such a good idea. Discourse isn't going to make any of the pieces of this country work together. We probably should just disband. There's a way to divide up the infrastructure that still survives, right? Maybe our zoning committees could become unzoning committees, and we could have an orderly division into millions of separate households with no legal obligation to each other.

It means all those conservatives who said I hate America are right. Of course, they hate America too. We just focused on slightly different parts that we hate. Some of what we hate overlaps. That's nice, even if it's inconvenient for the dividing up part. Maybe the unzoning committees have a solution for that.

It makes the entire United States experiment a somewhat philosophical enterprise. We are a group of disparate individuals who tried to get together based on our uniqueness. Very meta. But not terribly sustainable. Oh well.

I wish we could get together and make a country. I'm not sure how that would look. I think a country might include education, health care, roads and hospitals. A nice transportation system. An energy grid that balances need and waste. That sounds fun. Too bad. We could have tried that. If we didn't hate America.

Poetry Makes You Crazy

2011-01-09T12:23:00.000-08:00

Since 1997, I have been working on a poem. Some years I work on it for hours each day, week after week. Some years I do not touch it. It's a long, rambling, epic poem. It is my life, written down. In two important ways it is accurate.

One, it is rambling and incoherent yet contains flashes of insight and occasional nice phrasing. You have to wade through a lot of nonsense to find the gems, but they're there.

Two, it is tangential to reality while assuming it knows what is going on.

In both of these ways I resemble my two literary heroes. One is Ezra Pound, and the other is Kenneth Patchen. Now, the funny thing about this is that as people they couldn't be more opposite. Pound is a notorious figure, a right wing nut in many ways. He famously broadcast messages in support of fascist Italy during WWII, and even late in life showed flashes of anger and hatred. He repented the worst of his sins, but he remained an unpleasant man on a personal level. He was a horrible husband, an absent father. Patchen was the opposite. He was a conscientious objector during WWII, very leftist and anti-authoritarian. He was devoted to his wife, a dark and sad man but by all accounts a nice one.

What they had in common was intensity and talent. They both worked through difficult conditions, always writing and making amazing poetry. Most poetry, then and now, is worthless. Not just bad-- but a horrible affront to language. It's painful to even be near it. Good poetry is something transcendent. Good poetry is divine. I don't know if my poem is good. I think it has flashes of good. I hope they carry the poem into something wonderful. I'd hate to add to the volumes of mockery that exist as poetry now.

I'm nearing the end of this poem. (I say- though I've said it before. Maybe I'll never stop. But it feels more done than ever.)

It's long, though not impossibly so. I have 120 pages right now, and may even edit it down a little. I don't want it to be unwieldy, but at the same time I am skeptical of editing. Poetry just comes out. The me who wrote the first lines at 21 is certainly not the 34 year old me typing this today. But any editing freezes another moment. Why just make a poem for today? Certainly trimming needs to happen, and good phrases saved. But overall I think it just needs to stand. It is what it is.

Here is an excerpt. It captures the general feel of the poem, though the style tends to wander over the decades. Like me!

“I don’t like dictionaries,
they says
things like
don’t care.”

“Transition—
for instance.”

Start:

(Hi there)
in pen,
one red
doesn’t work
if it tries
black.
strangeleyl,

Go,
to end in
freedom, i
hate that
sound.
I really do,
sure so I

I that, you see eno—
to do
loss, might be
planning
there are
two doors,
and a
handle.

For ten hours,
hands pulled
inward
like
Skying.

no one gets the distinction
between everything and
nothing, no

matter how often you
teach it.

Maxence Cyrin Pixies Cover

2011-01-05T17:08:00.000-08:00

You Gotta Loosen What You Bolted Down

2010-12-31T12:30:00.000-08:00

"Yougottadance. Aslongasthemusicplays. Yougotta dance. Don'teventhinkwhy. Starttothink, yourfeetstop. Yourfeetstop, wegetstuck. Wegetstuck, you'restuck. Sodon'tpayanymind, nomatterhowdumb. Yougottakeepthestep. Yougottalimberup. Yougottaloosenwhatyoubolteddown. Yougottauseallyougot. Weknowyou're tired, tiredandscared. Happenstoeveryone, ok? Justdon'tletyourfeetstop."

-Haruki Murakami, Dance Dance Dance

2010 was an insane year. We moved across the country, I started a new program. I got horribly sick. Definitely an odd year.

I'm looking forward to 2011. I'll graduate. Hopefully find a teaching job. I have no idea where we'll be in the fall, which is exhilarating to me. I'm funny that way.

I don't put too much stock in New Year's resolutions. But they do serve a purpose. It's useful to think about where you are, where you were... You don't want to be trapped in an idea of the past or a wish for the future. But evaluation of what you are can be good for you.

With that in mind, here are some ideas for 2011.

I'm going to read more poetry. Somehow that escaped my attention too often in 2010.

I'm going to eat a little better. I had major ups and downs in 2010, for various reasons. I'm getting too old to just eat what and when I want. I don't want to go insane with a diet or anything. Just stay a little mindful.

I'm going to really be a great teacher. I know I won't be perfect. But I'm going to do well.

I'm not going to accept any excuses for skipping meditation. None. It's important. The most important thing I do.

I've going to have fun. All of this is fun. Don't forget that. Like Rumi says. We rarely hear the inward music. But we're dancing to it nonetheless.

Crack the Frozen Sea

2010-12-18T18:04:00.000-08:00

I love reading. I love books. I think that reading, like Kafka said, can be a way to "crack the frozen sea within us." As an elementary educator, I read a lot of children's books. There isn't a medium quite like children's literature. It's visual, but not exclusively so. It isn't really a genre; what genre includes Cinderella and Pokemon? It's a way to show children what art can be. I absolutely love children's literature, from simple picture books to young adult novels. They are amazing and underrated. I've decided, in my random and confusing jumble of things I write about, to include some examples of the medium. Unsurprisingly, I am a snob in this area of my life as well.

Cinderella is a classic folk tale. It's been Disneyed and distorted, but the heart of the story is interesting. The version I like, Cinderella by Cynthia Rylant and Mary Blair, strips away a lot of the nonsense and gets at the simple story of a person who is looking for something special. Unlike the other versions, this Cinderella isn't a passive person, but acts to help herself. She knows that Love is out there, if she is willing to find it. It's sweet and simple and beautifully illustrated.

Idries Shah was known to me as a Sufi scholar. He has also written many children's books, and the favorite of my kids is one called The Silly Chicken. It's a morality tale, essentially pointing out that the ability to talk does not necessarily translate into meaningful conversation. It's goofy and fun, and the kids are remarkably astute at discovering the moral. Even before the story ended, my son asked "Why are they listening to a chicken?" Another one of Shah's books that I like is called Fatima the Spinner and the Tent. It's more serious, essentially another story to explain a moral. Natasha Delmar does the amazing illustrations for this one.

Neil Gaiman has always been an interesting writer. He combines pop culture and myth in a clever way, but he has a deeper well than I realized. One of his children's books, Instructions, is a recent discovery of mine. It is already one of my favorites. It's typical of Gaiman in many ways, simple and meaningful... but there is a depth to it that isn't in his other books for children or young adults. It frightened my kids. But in a good way.

I'm not an anti-TV person. I like TV. But I can't deny that when the television is off for a day, and the kids just read and play games, everything at my house is better. There is never a day when we don't read to our kids; I'll skip dinner before I skip our nightly story time. But just as important is choosing great books, books that move you and inspire you to read. Finding those books encourages you to explore the world, and you in turn encourage your kids or students.

The Meaning of Christmas

2010-12-12T07:40:00.000-08:00

It's the season of Christmas cards, gift giving, and pointless arguments about wars on Christmas and replacing Christ with X. In other words, for someone like me who likes philosophy and family, it's the greatest time of the year!

I had a conversation about the holiday with Taviri this week. It was a hard thing to explain, since the holiday is such a strange mix of secular and religious. Even without getting into the historical connections to Yule and Roman pagan celebrations, it's a complex time of year. Taviri asked me what Christmas was, and I tried to answer. In the process of talking about it, I discovered some aspects of the holiday that I had always enjoyed without really knowing it.

C.S. Lewis, the writer and Christian apologist, was fond of the trilemma argument for Christ's divinity. It goes like this: either Christ was insane, lying, or God. That's it. Now, I don't believe that Christ was a literal son of God, for various reasons, but this argument is interesting to me in what it leaves out. In reality I think it is a five-horned argument (pentalemma?). The historical person either didn't exist, was a liar, was God, was insane, or was a teacher who used metaphor. I fall in the teacher camp, like many people. What interests me about that is not the how or why, though, but what it means.

For one, it lets me use this awesome sketch of a historical Jesus. But most importantly, it allows me to frame the story of Christ's birth with that context and make a meaningful idea of Jesus for Taviri.

Think of the Christmas story. An angel comes to a poor woman, tells her that she is pregnant with a special child who will be a savior of his people. He will be a great leader. The parents are instructed to set aside their worldly concerns about parentage and just love the child. Wise men come from far away to see and bless the child. This is the story of birth, period. It's a metaphor for welcoming a special person into the world every time a woman gives birth. It's really a wonderful little tale of love for your family.

There is a children's book called "Tonight You Are My Baby." It's a sweet story, about Mary speaking to Jesus as an infant. She tells him that he has all of this to do, and he belongs to the world, but at least tonight, he can just be her baby. Isn't that the story of family? We have a few precious moments, our baby can just be there in our arms. They are not for us. They are for the world, for themselves. They go away from us almost as soon as they can, seeking their destiny. But for a night, a day, a year, they are just ours, wrapped up in our love.

All knowledge is local, as one of my favorite writers reminds me. I am not concerned with the religious dogma. The truth is the truth, and I understand it as best I can. I have no idea what the historical Jesus was like, who he was. I don't think anyone does, despite the claims to the contrary. But I can see a baby, a mother, a father, unsure of the future, huddled together for one night. They tell the baby he is special, that they love him. That's a pretty amazing story. I can celebrate that.

The Music and the Mixed Message

2010-12-05T14:44:00.000-08:00

I have been thinking a lot, since my illness and hospital time, about what I want out of life. When I was seventeen, the only thing I wanted was to marry Jaime. The rest of my time I spent playing music, having fun... I really didn't think of anything else. Work, school... these were just things I had to do to keep Jaime around. I enjoyed them. I tried to do them well because that was me, that was how I operated. But I didn't really care. When something more interesting came along, I changed and went along with it.

Everything else I did was connected to my value system. I enjoyed being straight edge, eating vegan... I enjoyed these things because they expressed something about myself. I think my values were the clearest from that age to my early twenties. Not well developed or even true, but they were me, they made sense in the context of my existence. It's telling that I haven't really changed those values in all the years since then. Not even at age twenty-one.

Listening to that old music, I realize that I was really happy then. I think I was happy because I knew what I wanted, and I didn't get caught up with nonsense. The rest of my life since then has been an effort to find that clarity of purpose. I still understand intellectually what I want. I want to be with Jaime, take care of my kids, practice my Sufi meditations. It's amazing how clear it becomes again when you don't know how much time you'll have in this life.

So many people my age are gathering things. Buying houses, video games, giant tvs. All of those things are fine, of course, I don't have a problem with things. Things are just things, they don't matter. But gathering things isn't me. I don't like houses. I don't like video games. I kind of like tv, but not enough to pay too much attention. I was happiest in a simple apartment, with bare floors, and piles of pillows to lay around on and listen to music.

In this way the kids are good for me. They ground me, make me pay attention to my career, my surroundings. I think I'll always strive for some form of the bare floors and simple apartment. I'm not sure why. The kids keep me from going too extreme. I could see becoming a strange old straight edge hermit, listening to old 7"s and watching the white walls of my apartment mold.

Which is probably going to happen anyway. But at least this way I'll be prepared.

License to Ill: Not The Good Kind

2010-10-17T07:52:00.000-07:00

I am healed! After a few crazy weeks I am back to being mostly myself. I still have a gross leg wound, but it's nowhere near the disgusting leg wound that it was. I'm walking normally, my energy level is back, and in a few hours my antibiotic regimen is complete. I'm feeling pretty good as long as I don't stop and contemplate all of the work that I need to catch up on in the next few weeks. So I won't.

I have a ton of appointments in the next few weeks, many of which I will have to cancel now that my work schedule has returned to the normal 12 hour days. The strangest things that happened during my illness are the ones no one wants to meet about, which I don't understand. All of the heart issues worried me more than the infection, and that has been totally ignored. The sepsis was scary, and that hasn't been mentioned. In fact, of all of the things on my hospital paperwork, only the original leg wound is getting any attention at all. Because it's the most visible?

Overall I can't complain, I think the care I got was good. I was very concerned about the quality of care here, considering how rural it is. (Below: my image of a central New York ICU ward) But despite my concerns they seemed pretty on the ball. My one big concern is that I got several different opinions on what was going on and never really got a straight answer. But I guess that is to be expected when a lot of weird stuff is going on in your body. And I'm better now, which is what matters.

It's amazing how fast these things can happen. When I really felt bad in the hospital I was too out of it to be really scared about my health. I found out later that the most dangerous time was the evening I just zoned out and watched college football. I'd be feeling pretty stupid if the last thing I did on Earth was watch a horrible Alabama game. The next day, when I did get concerned, I wasn't scared. I just wanted to rest and chat. I get really talkative when I'm ill. So everything really bad that could have happened would have happened while I was least expecting it. Maybe there is some kind of metaphor there. At the very least it's an argument for living your life without regret. If things had gotten worse, I'm really happy that I had made some of the choices I had made. I wouldn't regret being broke, or not owning a home. I'd be happy for Jaime and the kids. For my experiences. For traveling and eating good food. The great part about these scares is they make you appreciate life. And in my case, they make you proud of what you have worked to have in this world, and happy you invested in yourself and not your stuff.

Also they make you want to listen to Beastie Boys.

City Mouse Country Mouse: The True Story

2010-09-24T10:09:00.000-07:00

I've always had a dilemma about urban living. I grew up in the country, and I felt like that was who I was. I always wanted to be a city person, and when I got the chance I moved to a city. But I was never sure it was who I was. I wondered if I was just reacting to my upbringing, or seeking something different. And maybe I was. But I have become completely comfortable with my desire to live in a city. Whatever the reasons, whatever the origin of my need to be surrounded by people, I've accepted it. I'm a city person. I might even be an urban cowboy.

(On second thought...)

The reasons are complex. Lately I have been obsessed with the philosophical concept of emergent structures. Basically the idea of emergent structures is that a system is complex enough that certain properties arise out of the structure that are not inherent. The whole is more than the sum of its parts, and some features of the whole are not able to quantified into parts. My desire for cities, my need for cities, is an emergent structure. Everything I love about life is connected to people, relationships, and experiences. Cities give me that space in which to be me. I don't know if it is totally logical. But in cities I feel alive. The secondary factors, such as good food, Sufi centers, fun activities... they are all there. And they matter. But it's greater than that. Sitting at a coffee shop in the morning, watching the city flow past, I feel connected in a way that I can't in a small town. It isn't a critique or a judgment, even. It's just how I feel. I'm fully capable of admitting I'm weird. But I don't think I can change.

I think I've sold Jaime on the idea. Amazingly. Which either means I am a great salesman or it really does make sense for us. And I am certainly not a great salesperson. Jaime would cut through me like a sword through warm butter. So, it must make some kind of sense. In tribute, here is a song about going from small towns to big cities.

Everyone's Your Friend (In NYC)

2010-09-19T13:15:00.000-07:00

Especially if you're playing the Mets. They like to let you win!

Jason and I had an exceedingly fun time in NYC yesterday. We saw a good game, even though the Mets lost. At least they helped the Braves. The weather was perfect, so we were comfortable. Citi Field is a great place, built along the modern ballpark lines of great views and decent concessions. Overall it was a great time, and it provided some much needed relaxation for me.

We had a fun little detour as well. We walked around looking for some vegan food, and we followed Google maps' wonderful walking directions. The directions led us through some strange and sketchy parts of Queens, filled with garages and staring faces. None of them spoke to us, but there was an implied question on every face. "What the hell are you doing, and do you hate your wallet so much you'd practically give it away?" We were not forced to answer the question, thankfully. But we did find out that Google maps is evil and dangerous. If we didn't already know that.

Between the danger walk and the plethora of ads papering the stadium, we explored two of the most horrible aspects of capitalism in one brief period. We were a traveling sociology project! I imagine people observing us could see APA citations floating above our heads.

Check out some pictures, if you wish!

Dream House!

2010-09-12T18:04:00.000-07:00

Good Morning Cla- AAAH!

2010-09-11T11:33:00.000-07:00

It's really hard to explain how insane the school system is. There are a lot of people involved, most of them care a lot, and kids come flying around like we're in the tornado scene from the Wizard of Oz. There are not words to describe it. Especially not if I want to capture that it is actually pretty fun.

The students are still in the process of settling in, and I'm completely at a loss. I don't think I've felt more confused about what I am doing in my entire life. Honestly the first few weeks of work in Japan were the closest, but even they pale in comparison. Because at least in Japan I expected to be lost. I was in a foreign country, I didn't have mastery of the language. I was hired and being trained after the first few weeks. And even then I had a clear idea of what I was doing, even if I didn't necessarily do it right. Or well. Or at all. The idea was there.

Here, it's bedlam. Students are lost and confused, other teachers are busy and excited. Fifth graders wander the halls looking seriously threatening. (Honestly when did fifth graders get huge and violent? Is it the cafeteria food? Some of these kids look like NFL linebackers. And that's just the girls. One of them called me by name last week. Minimum three weeks before I get shivved.)

I wonder if there are still movie of the week style PSAs that I can turn to. I feel the dire need for one. Maybe one about how huge kids are. Or one about the range of tears you get in first grade. ('Meredith Baxter in "Why Did That Fifth Grader Eat Me?' followed by a special airing of "WAAA! The Musical!"')

Once again the confusing thing about all of this is that it is FUN! Kids are great. Being in a classroom is great. The only places I have been able to walk into and feel happy to be working there involve kids. I wouldn't want to do anything different. But it does make you wonder why this country is so insane. Why are kids filled with so many problems? (And Cheese Curls, apparently?) I can almost sympathize with the insane political ramblings. There is a major issue with a country that allows seven year olds to experience the kind of life that these seven year olds experience.

But there is a beauty to it to. Because next to the kid relating stories of his mother's meth addiction is a kid whose mom is a physician treating that addiction. It's public school; the good the bad and the ugly are all lined up for lunch together. They are all ready to help each other face the challenges.

Except that one fifth grader. She's ready to eat you. But she's an exception.

Vectors and Luck

2010-09-05T08:05:00.000-07:00

I spent the weekend ill. It was lucky, in a sense, because I have a very busy week next week and I cannot afford to be sick then. I'd much rather be sick now. I'm not quite sure how I got sick, since I haven't been exposed to the little vectors yet. But there it is. Like I said, lucky for me it happened now. I'm even feeling a little better today. Thanks to listening to Dr. J and getting some rest. (Not Jaime. Julius Erving. I always call him when I feel under the weather. He's a great help.)

Seriously it really reminds me how blessed I am to have Jaime's help, though. I could never accomplish anything without her help. The kids are so young, and it's a great challenge to keep them under control. I have an awesome family. Thanks to Jaime.
(If only we looked this good...)

Hopefully I'll feel much better this week and I can get into the classroom and do my work. I love the prospect of being in the classroom and working with the kids. It's an amazing chance to do what I want to do with my life. I'm happy to be taking these steps. I'm grateful to Jaime for the opportunity. Even my own little disease vectors, Captain and Crimson Death, are really excited and supportive. It'll be interesting to see what they have to say in ten years about my career. Or twenty.

Now it's time for more rest. More vitamin C. Maybe I'll check in again with Dr. J, see if he has any more advice. I bet it'll involve a foul line dunk. Everything does with him.

Pure Insanity Reigns

2010-08-31T09:24:00.000-07:00

Obviously record companies are under a lot of stress. I mean, they need to buy mounds of cocaine for the musicians, those Korg keytars keep breaking down, and Steve Jobs keeps calling and screaming "iTunes!" and hanging up, laughing maniacally. It's a tough time to work in the industry.

It wasn't always, though. So how can you explain the horrific album covers of years past? Check this site out. You will recoil. You will cry. You will thank me.

Autumn Exists

2010-08-29T08:03:00.000-07:00

It's almost fall. The weather is getting cool, school is about to start. (Teachers care a lot about fall.) And for the first time in many years, I live in a place that actually has an autumn. I'm excited. Fall has always been my favorite season, and I'm happy I get the chance to enjoy it.

Enjoying fall means driving the kids through the country to see leaves and drink cider. It means begging Jaime to bake treats. (But honestly every season means that. Fall just means I'll get more treats per beg.) Fall means food and cool weather. If I had more time, fall would mean long walks under beautiful foliage. But I don't imagine I'll be walking anywhere except to to and from school.

I'm anxious to get the school year started. I'm really anxious to get into the semester and get some of my projects done. It's insane to think that this time next year I'll have my own elementary school class. The first step to that is getting into the fall and accomplishing my work. The leaves turning red is just a bonus.

Poetry, Pain, and Lesson Plans

2010-08-24T06:57:00.000-07:00

I'm starting the school year working with a 1st grade class. I'm extremely excited to be there, and I think I'll have a great year. It's going to be strange to work with kids this age. It's exactly the age I want, and I think I'll do well. It won't be easy; it's a tough time in a lot of ways. My philosophy of elementary school involves placing kids in situations to appreciate the world, and learn from it. My lesson plans pull from many things, but you can see my primary focus: math and poetry.

Not that I'm a math genius or anything. Quite the contrary, I am mediocre at best at advanced math. But I like it. Oddly enough. I enjoy it. I think it's important. I think math and poetry are important things for human beings to understand and appreciate. There is a difference for my classroom though: I'm good at poetry. And I hate bad poetry.

I mean I have a seething, intense rage at bad poetry. Unreasonably so. To get a better understanding of what I mean, here is what I consider good poetry. Whitman, Creeley, Rumi are all good poets. There is no particular time or region that defines good poetry. There is just an aesthetic sense, a value of the poems themselves. I don't know if I can even explain why Ryokan and Zukofsky are both good poets. I don't know if anyone can.

Bad poets, on the other hand, are plentiful. Sometimes, like Nimoy, they are people who are good at other things and think they can try poetry. (Jewel, *cough*) Sometimes, education is the problem. They are MFAs in poetry and then write. It never works out for the best.

And here is my problem. I want to introduce, to teach them to appreciate. But education and poetry have historically created monsters. I think I can say without hyperbole that most poetry journals publish horror that is ten billion times worse than the next worse thing anyone can ever imagine in the history of the universe. I'm pretty sure I'm safe in stating that.

So, I will probably be careful. I will have the kids write poems. If they produce anything as bad as most poets, I will quit. I promise. There is always math. That can't hurt anyone, right?

Return of the Blog

2010-08-21T07:14:00.001-07:00

I'm starting the school year, and preparing myself for the insane year ahead of me. In the process of deciding what is useful work and what is wasting time, I have decided to try and continue my blog. I enjoy it, and it is a way to keep perspective and vent. I doubt I'll be updating that often, but I hope to post a weekly summary of what my life is like. I expect it will be mostly personal work about myself and my family, and very little about what I'm doing in the school. It makes sense to minimize the amount I write about the schools, and I imagine the bulk of my friends and family are more interested in me than my work, regardless.

So, the year of coffee fueled teaching begins on Monday. I am incredibly excited. I hope we can make the situation relatively painless. Well, except to my adrenals. They are totally in for a beating.

I'm ready to get moving on this great project of work and life. I'm ready to take the next step forward. I'm ready to make another cup of coffee and start going over lesson plans.

I'm planning on making the weekly posts relatively simple, honest affairs. It reveals the extent to which this blog is decompressing for me, and I apologize for that in advance. At the same time, if you are reading this you are a friend or family member and are interested in what I am doing, so hopefully this will work for everyone.

Thank You For Stop At Eat

2010-03-28T09:31:00.000-07:00

I Actually Am A Super Fly Homeboy In The Oaktown

2010-03-27T15:41:00.001-07:00

And I'm known as such. By a select few.

We're having a great time as we continue our California vacation. Our pre-moving trip trip. We're staying with Cathyjoel, though tonight we're meeting up with Aaron and Emma for an evening meal at Souley Vegan, which should be great. Cathyjoel are nice enough to watch the kids for a few hours, so we're taking advantage of it. Hopefully we'll have some great food to go with our conversation.

California is a fun place to be. It's such an alien land for those of us from the east. Spending time in Seattle has prepared me a little for the mindset, since so many Seattle people are former Californians. But where the Seattle casual is silent and judging, the California casual is carefree and fun. It's noisy and busy, too, which is a big change. I might get a little overwhelmed by California over time. It's been a blast so far, though.

I have put up a ton of pictures at my Picasa site. Check them out for kids and California fun! In the sun!

My In California

2010-03-22T16:50:00.000-07:00

Hey all! I didn't stop this as quick as I expected, apparently. Well, we got an internet connection, so I figured I'd post about our wonderful beginning to our trip.

We left late, of course, and stayed near Portland, Oregon. We had a breakfast send off with Herc and Sarah. It was lovely, but we were so sad to leave them. They are our awesome and wonderful friends. Actually, all of our friends in Seattle will be sorely missed. We met some lovely people during our time.

We're in California now, visiting Aaron and Emma and Cathyjoel©. Also lovely and wonderful friends. Right now we're in Marin County. We had a big hike today. (Well, a little hike. But we're tired!) Tonight it's a relaxing dinner with Aaron and Emma, some repacking, and more visiting tomorrow. On Wednesday, we're off to Alameda, to see Cathyjoel©. So far we are having a great time, our friends are amazing, and we're tired. Astoundingly, the kids are being perfect. (So perfect, in fact, there is a present for Viri in his future. I hate to operate on a reward system, but that boy is being perfect.)

Hopefully I'll find time to post again during the trip. Hopefully I'll find our camera to have photos to post. (Oops.) Hopefully we'll continue to have a fantastic journey with our loved ones.

Pack, Clean, Prepare

2010-03-17T10:12:00.000-07:00

We're trying to get ready to leave on Friday. It's insane. Arkaedi is unpacking what we pack, things are getting broken, and I'm still working today and tomorrow. I really shouldn't be; I'd never have guessed that I am more sensible with money than time. In this case, I am. (When I moved to Japan I think I quit my job five months in advance.)

I've been debating what to do with this space during and after the move. It's tempting to try and keep updating, but I think the insane days of driving and camping and motels without wifi will make it prohibitively difficult. So, I'm going to take a break, another hiatus, this time for good reasons.

When we get to New York, and settle in, we'll start the blog anew. I'm hoping to have Jaime's website for her business up and running, which will allow me space to blog. This has been in essence a long practice run, giving me a forum to rant and ramble, and prepare myself for a more formal blog about parenting and teaching. I'll still post the occasional fun story, but there will be less "look what I found on the internet" and more well thought out articles on education and family. I'll try to not be too boring. (Though no promises.)

We're off to Ithaca on Friday. I have a feeling that most people who read this will see us on our travels. If not, hey, flag us down. We're always up for tea. Pretty will give you hugs and break your mug. "My cuteness supercedes my destructive capabilities in the minds of my admirers!"

The Book, The Music, And The Beverage

2010-03-14T12:31:00.000-07:00

I'm in the middle of my annual re-read of the Lord of the Rings. This year, as I sometimes do, I'm including the Hobbit. The Hobbit doesn't have the epic scale of the Lord of the Rings, but in many ways it's my favorite book. It's sweet, and simple, and honest. It captures a wonderful aspect of Tolkien's writing, which is that important human things are lost as we embrace modern life. He says in the preface that he saw his world of rural England subsumed and replaced by trains and automobiles. In his typical honest fashion, he isn't lamenting the future or praising the past, but simply pointing out that things are changing, have changed, and wondering if anyone is thinking about what it means. It isn't anachronism; it's contemplation.

I love the writings of Tolkien. Paired with two other things, tea and jazz, I think I am a great hobbit. I'd certainly rather have cakes and tea than gold and adventure. And sometimes, a deep part of me longs to see the mountains and the sea. But I settle for tea and cakes. Maybe a cappuccino if I'm feeling wild. It's a good thing pipes are relatively uncommon, because I'd be sorely tempted to smoke. And Jaime would never allow that. (There's a reason Bilbo was single.)

I thought, when I was younger, that I was Frodo. Maybe my dad was Bilbo. But as I age, and reflect on the characters, I think I'm Bilbo, and dad is his father, Drogo. Taviri can take over the mantle and become the Frodo. He's got it in him to save the world. He isn't so enchanted with the simple pleasures of jazz and tea, and he doesn't seem the type to sit still. Perhaps it's a possibility, a potential. I found Jaime and became the Bilbo. I could have been Frodo, but for some different choices.

I sold a ton of my books and gave away a lot of music this week. I'm taking a few boxes back east with me, including my battered old Tolkien books I got from my dad. I'm loading up my ipod with jazz, and making some fun playlists. I'm packing our cooler with tea. The music, the hot tea, and the books will make the long days pass in comfort and pleasure. I'll sneak out when Jaime isn't looking and find the cakes. The pipe... well, the pipe I'll save for retirement.

Movin' On Up! Er, Across!

2010-03-13T13:14:00.000-08:00

We're in the week of the move. It's strange. It seems unreal. I know we're packing, I look at apartments, I'm logically aware of the move. But as with many big changes, it won't seem real until we actually get on the road. And even then, it will be a vacation. Not a move.

When we moved to Seattle it was from Japan. That was even more surreal, and it was made more so by the fact that a moving company packed us up and shipped our stuff. We just flew to Tennessee and visited JoAnn and Becky. Then we drove across the country. This was before kids, and we didn't really plan anything. We just bought our little Echo, and drove.

The reality of the children necessitates more planning now. We can be flexible, but we cant just camp out when and where we feel like it, or eat nothing on a day. Oddly, and wonderfully, the only consistent element of this trip is that we're still getting help from JoAnn and Becky, and we're also visiting Aaron and Emma. If anything is going to stay consistent, I'm glad it's friends and family.

There is so much I'll miss about Seattle. But as our last week starts, I realize how excited I am for Ithaca. I'm ready to be in a new place. I'm excited to not be in a city, for once. Since Jaime picked Seattle, and we've stayed here seven years, I'm excited to get a chance to pick a place. (Actually, since it's been so long, I get to pick the next one too. She doesn't know that yet.)

We're not headed to an apartment in the sky. But it'll be wonderful to see a slightly different sky above us.

Next Year's Winner!

2010-03-12T15:37:00.001-08:00

A Trailer for Every Academy Award Winning Movie Ever

Catch phrase!

Gender And Strollers

2010-03-10T15:57:00.000-08:00

All kids love strollers. They're one of the most sought after toys at the daycare. Boys and girls both love them. There is a difference, however, in how they're used. The girls put babies in them and stroll them around. The boys dump the babies out and fill the space with toys. I'm not sure what this says about innate gender differences, but it says something. I call it my PRC study. (Well, I didn't. I do now.)

Before I had kids, I would have never believed there is a natural inclination towards certain behavior in boys and girls. But watching kids over the years at the daycare I believe there is something to it. The PRC actually makes a good sample, since we have single moms, lesbian moms, stay at home dads, and all kinds of in between. Some of the dads are boisterous football players, some are silent and gentle. It's part of what makes the job great. We have a diverse group, from different countries and different backgrounds. But every boy dumps out the stroller, and every girl puts a baby in it and pushes it around.

There is probably a case to be made for different explanations. Maybe the kids copy who they see looks like them. But that doesn't work perfectly: why does the stocky dark skinned girl identify with the tiny blonde above a stocky dark skinned boy? Gender means something to the little ones. I don't know why, or how. But they know, or at least are acting upon, something within themselves. It's interesting.

One of the most bizarre and pervasive divides I have seen since returning to the U.S. is the pathologically individualist side, where the ego reigns and everything is about individual expression, and the monotonous, "everyone is special" politically correct engine. It's fascinating, and both sides take the argument very seriously. Most individualists, ironically, would argue that boys are boys and girls are girls. Most of the p.c. crowd argues against any innate gender differences, that boys and girls are blank slates that we impose a political will upon. It's a cross-over, a revolt against the party line in a funny and weird way. I wonder if it could signal a positive approach; a possibility of dialogue.

I think the country is in real trouble. It's bigger than if we are naturally inclined to push babies or machines. But the inability to discuss gender and politics and health care all lead to the death of a nation if we are so convinced we know everything that we can't communicate. I think it starts with watching, and listening. It begins when I can clearly explain that I see the boys pushing toys, and the girls strolling babies. And get an audience instead of a lecture.

My Crazy!

2010-03-07T16:29:00.001-08:00

Arkaedi Sue has catapulted into the terrible two Hall of Fame this week. She has thrown water, pooped on the floor, and made our frequent trips to Wayward a challenge in Pretty management. Today she ran around and made trouble, then went to the zoo with our good friends Tiffany and Wade. They said she was perfect. So the craziness is just for me.

This morning she came screeching into my room, "Papa sleeping!" He was, Pretty Sue. Now he isn't. Later was the floor pooping incident, which I admit was partly my fault. She came to the door while I was getting out of the shower, and said "My poopy!" as she frequently does. Well, I didn't move fast enough, and she took off her pull up and pooped on the floor. My poopy indeed.

She always is intense. She always screams. Sometimes, like now, she is asleep. I imagine her in the future, though, using this intensity to her advantage. She'll be in her thirties when the genetically altered supermen like Khan take over. She can be a fighter pilot. Her dialogue alone will make it worth all the trouble. Plus, she'll destroy Khan before he has a chance to bother Kirk and crew.

"No, Khan! You bad! My nice! Fire!"

A Perfect Baseball Blessing

2010-03-06T10:06:00.000-08:00

I had hoped to visit the Albuqurque Isotopes while I was on the road. We'll be driving right through there, and I figured it'd be a nice stop for a day, we could get a motel, and have a short driving day. I checked online, and realized the Isotopes where not in town. I was bummed. Until I noticed a little asterisk next to the schedule. There was a game on April 3rd, but it wasn't the beloved minor league team named for the Simpsons episode; it was my Seattle Mariners! Playing a spring training game! In the one place this year I'll be able to see them! Perfection! (Ironically, the first Isotopes episode featured Ken Griffey Jr., now back with the Mariners. So I'll get to see him.)

There have been a lot of serendipitous aspects of this move back east. Some are more important to our overall well being. But none made me happier than to realize I'll get to see the Mariners at least once this season. If they go on to have a wonderful season, I can have the satisfaction of knowing I saw the beginning. If not, then, well, I still had a good day in April in New Mexico watching baseball. If baseball is blessing my move back east, then it must be a good idea.

We may also hit some more minor league games while we're traveling. I love minor league baseball. There is something so pure about the game. The stadiums are small, the players are not paid much more than normal people. There is a speed to the game, uninterrupted by jumbotrons and grounds crews. I hope to see the Nashville Sounds, and the Oklahoma Redbirds. I'm planning on taking my son and my dad down to see the West Virginia Power. (Great name. Sounds like a wrestling move.)

The one benefit of Ithaca is its proximity to great minor league teams. The Syracuse Chiefs and Binghamton Mets can be seen with easy day trips. I'll try and make lots of trips this summer to see games. I'm looking forward to the minor league baseball season. Even more so now that I get one chance to see the Mariners in 2010. Even if I end up buying an Isotopes souvenir.

King 5 Does A Mighty-O Story

2010-03-05T09:11:00.000-08:00

The fun thing is, we were there! They didn't use the footage of us, but we were there as they shot the story.

Music Supreme

2010-03-03T10:03:00.000-08:00

I used to be a big fan of jazz. I listened to jazz most every day, I owned some nice vinyl, I knew tons about jazz from 1939-1960. Then, I slowed down. I listened less and less, sold some of my records and cds. I eventually stopped listening to music in general, barring the occasional car trip or interesting song I'd choose to plug into my ipod. I'm not sure exactly why, though I suspect a busy schedule and kids made enjoyment of sound a problem. Children are noisy, and I imagine I wanted quiet. Or maybe I got bored with my choices. Either way, I stopped. Recently I unearthed some of my digital music files I'd stashed away, including some of my jazz. I only kept the greatest hits, like Coltrane and Charlie Parker. Some Mingus made it to the computer.

Oh, I didn't know what I was missing. It's heaven. Perfect music. I realize why I fell in love with it in the first place. Unlike my other musical interests, there isn't a narrative. No story, just intensity. I'll always have a soft spot for bluegrass, or country, or early punk rock. It's fun. But jazz is music. It's analogous to the feeling I get when I compare baseball to other sports. I love other sports. I enjoy watching them with friends, and cheering for different teams. But baseball is the game, it is powerful in a way that others don't approach.

I wish I understood exactly why I drifted away. Maybe it was a necessary change, a chance to better understand why I loved it. I'm almost glad I did, in a way. It gave me the opportunity to jump back in and see what is so amazing about it. Now I need to run around to used music stores and gather up my old favorites. I can no longer live in a world where Sketches of Spain and Blue Train aren't available at the click of a button. That'd be as bad as not knowing Ichiro's single season hits record.

(262.)

Greatest Goldberg Contraption Ever

2010-03-02T15:19:00.000-08:00

A Strange Fascination With Degrees

2010-02-28T14:35:00.000-08:00

I really like north Texas. It's an odd place to like; there isn't much there, and it's dusty and hot. But the sky is impossibly large, and the sheer amount of space just captivates me. I'm looking forward to driving through it again.

My favorite places in the United States are the extremes. I love the big cities and the vast empty stretches of nothing. If I had to make a blanket statement, I would say that the best of the U.S. is in these places, and the worst is in the suburbs and exurbs. I don't know if that's one hundred percent true, but I think it's at least a fair thing to say. If you want the great things this country has to offer, your best bet is to get off a subway stop in NYC or park your motorcycle by highway 60 in Willow Springs, Missouri. Anything in between will be degrees of compromise. Everything I like about this country, certainly, I have found in either small towns or big cities.

One reason, perhaps the reason, is we are an extreme nation. There are few in-betweens. Traveling through Europe or Japan, the other places I have experience with, and I see towns as smaller cities. Not that they don't have their own personalities and quirks, but they aren't made up of different people. The degrees of separation between Milan and Torino are in culture and scale. They're real differences, but understandable. NYC and Elmira are worlds apart.

So, I'm excited about north Texas, Oklahoma, and Missouri. I'm ready to see those empty, vast spaces and meet the rare person who chooses to live there. I'm nostalgic for that huge, heavy sky pressing down on me. I wonder what the kids will think of our extremes.

All New Wayward Cafe

2010-02-27T20:41:00.001-08:00

Jaime, the kids and myself went to the opening of the new location of Wayward Cafe today. It was everything yummy and delicious and good. Apparently everyone thought so, since the place was packed. We even ran into a few friends. It was a delicious, delicious afternoon. Their menu has expanded, they're in a nice big new location. Wayward just keeps getting better. And look at this lovely stolen image of their food!

Wayward Cafe is my favorite restaurant on Earth. It serves food in the afternoon, too, but what makes it my favorite is that it serves the best breakfast and brunch I have ever had. I'm a big fan of brunch; it's the greatest meal of the day, and it's ambiguous enough that I can gorge myself or eat light, whatever my mood. It's one of the few times I can drink cup after cup of coffee and not get yelled at by Jaime! For some reason, probably coffee and fat based, brunch is my happy place.

Today, thanks to the expanded menu, I had french toast, tofu scramble, and vegan sausage. I stole some of Arkaedi's hash browns too, just to round out the edges. (Pretty: "My food!") Viri had some pancakes, and Jaime had a breakfast sammich. I managed to steal some of that as well. As busy as they were, the wait wasn't too bad, and the food was perfect as usual. I'm going to miss a lot of food things in Seattle: vegan cinnamon rolls, Mighty-O doughnuts, multiple vegan Chinese restaurants. But I will definitely miss Wayward most of all. It's just so damn cozy.

After Wayward, we wandered over to the Sidecar Pigs For Peace shop, a nice little all purpose vegan shop, and got myself a new belt. Finding cool vegan belts is always a challenge, but I found a nice one today! I just need a nice buckle to snap on, and the pants-holding is complete! I'll miss Sidecar too. Seattle is a great place to be a vegan. It's a dangerously fattening place to be a vegan. But great.

Vegan family brunch at Wayward will be missed. We'll need a nice replacement in Ithaca. Maybe I can convince Jaime to just open a place. And let me have never-ending coffee. And she can make doughnuts! It'll make the pain of leaving Wayward ease a little, and my waistline slowly expand. Everyone wins!

Thanks, Medium Large!

2010-02-26T22:03:00.000-08:00

Love Takes Wing And Craps On Us

2010-02-26T15:29:00.000-08:00

I wrote a few weeks ago about my problems as a demographic nightmare. Today I got a particularly egregious reminder of this fact. I ordered shirts, and received a nightmare of my own. It was an ad for a little doll, complete with porcelain horror and disgust. Witness the photo.

To begin with, I have to explain my problem with clothes. I've always had trouble finding clothes to wear. I repeatedly have wished for a national uniform policy, just to save me the worry of selecting pants and shirts. I solved this by just creating my own uniform. It comes in two varieties, a home and away version. The home version is black t-shirt, black dickies, and trail running shoes. I'm partial to Keen. It's simple enough, and it gets the job done without drawing undue attention to myself. The away version is slightly showier, to impress the crowds. It's a black button down, black dickies, and boots. Cowboy or motorcycle, depending on my mood.

It's worked for me for a few years, except I've never been totally comfortable with the button down shirts. I finally found the perfect shirt, all black, vaguely cowboy style. Meaning it's tailored in, and shows a vaguely more masculine shape than my doughiness would suggest. I'm muscular AND fat, you see, not just fat*. The company apparently caters to people looking to recapture a mythical west of happy and lovely native women, eager for the love of doughy white guys**.

It made me concerned about what mailing lists I got myself on. Am I going to get mailings from people selling American flag macrame? Is it the other end of the spectrum, and am I doomed to get emails from shamanic healers selling medicine bags? Which one is worse?

Either way it goes, this kind of bland and horrible whitewashing of history is awful to behold. It's bad enough we've stolen land and marginalized the population; now we add insult to injury. Unless this is a casino style thing, and the people are getting new cars and cashing our checks, laughing all the way. If there is a native woman somewhere profiting off of this, then, hey good on you. But is the punishment really fitting? Do even we, heirs to murderers and thieves, deserve "Love takes wing?"

Maybe. But it's a low blow. I'd rather they take back the midwest***. Much rather.

*You don't have to believe that.
**Not like me. I'm not that doughy. Seriously.
***Talk about doughy.

2010-02-24T08:53:00.000-08:00

Trip Plotting And Driving With Kids

2010-02-23T17:48:00.001-08:00

We're planning our massive journey from coast to coast. (For the sake of an easy description, I'll actually just christen the Finger Lakes part of the Atlantic Ocean, and say it really is coast to coast. There, done. Coast to coast it is.) We've got some exciting stops planned, some lovely scenery, some hauntingly beautiful stretches of road to cover. I'm incredibly excited to see my good friends in California, my family in Tennessee and Iowa, my friends and family in West Virginia. I'm less excited, somewhat seriously less excited, about crossing huge swaths of the country with two little ones in tow.

I'm not sure how they'll handle it. They are fine in the car, but this is a huge trip. They'll enjoy seeing friends and family. But we have no one from California to Tennessee, given that we're taking a pretty southern route. The desert will be interesting for them, I imagine. But how interesting? And will Arkansas derail us entirely, forcing us to disband and join other families? Will Jaime kill me the twentieth time I make reference to the Boggy Creek creature?

We have a mix of distraction and sleep planned to get us through the trip. We plan on early morning drives, evening drives, and a portable dvd player. I'm less worried about Viri, since he can draw and talk, and more worried about Arkaedi, who can throw crayons and scream. (And sing. Many a commute has been made hilarious and long by a chorus of "My poop!" from Pretty Sue.)

The trip is going to be amazing, however it turns out. Interesting, exciting, and insane, most likely. Some of my fondest memories are of trips just like this. Breaking down in snow covered fields in Iowa. Laughing at nothing in Arizona with Jaime because we've been driving for days. The biggest a sky could possibly be in Texas.

If nothing else, this could be the trip I reference when I'm boring my children with tales of the Boggy Creek creature.

A Walk, Or A Trot

2010-02-20T14:06:00.001-08:00

The kids and I walked around Seattle's downtown today, enjoying the nice weather and downing a doppio and a cinnamon bun.

Well, the kids and I shared the bun; I just drank the espresso. (Arkaedi Sue: "Papa coffee! Not my coffee!")

It was a lovely morning, and I just drank in the Seattle downtown. I miss living in the middle of the action. I don't think it's the best place for small kids, but I do miss it. One of my dreams is to eventually live in the downtown of a city again. Perhaps in the near future.

One of the perks of being downtown today: we saw the Harlem Globetrotters. Jaime had a seminar at some fancy hotel, and the Globetrotters were there! It was fun. They have really hot girlfriends. It pays to globetrot, I guess. Good for them.

I'm not much of a celebrity person. But it was fun to see these guys. I'll add them to Lance Armstrong, and some random Seahawks players whose names I don't know to the list of athletes I have seen in person. I've never seen a Mariner out and about in Seattle. I have friend who've sen Ichiro, but no such luck.

Being in this lovely city today though also made me excited to move. I'm not sure why, except that walking the streets, carrying Arkaedi in a backpack, and holding Viri's hand made me feel like we were traveling. It was a nice feeling, and I am enthusiastic about exploring a new town with them. I found out my basic schedule for the next year, and it's busy, while not overwhelming. It should be manageable. I'll have time for my three mental health exercises: coffee, brunch with Jaime, and parks with kids.

I doubt I'll see any famous sports figures. Maybe we can play spot the tenured Cornell professor. And then mock his Prius.

Spring In February

2010-02-19T15:25:00.000-08:00

Today is exactly the kind of day I will miss when I leave Seattle. It's warm, sunny, and spring-like in February. It's wonderful. Viri took Biscuit, Arkaedi and I out for some doughnuts, and we had a grand time. Even with Arkaedi Sue terrible two-ing and making a mess. (Biscuit was exceptionally well behaved.)

The mountains were out, and everywhere you looked there were snow covered peaks. I really love the mountains. It's hard to explain to people how amazing they are, when the clouds allow you to see them. I grew up around lovely hills, and there is a certain charm to the rolling green of West Virginia. But nothing beats the intense, hard glare of the Cascades, or the Olympics, staring down at you. It's like being watched by the gods of Mount Olympus.

As much as I'll miss the nice weather, and the morning trips to Mighty-O, I won't miss the calories. In fact, one of the big pluses of moving to Ithaca will be the relative lack of vegan junk food. Maybe my gym trips will be more than damage control, for once. (I could start running again. But the fact remains that I'd rather bench press my body weight than run. This way I'm strong enough punch whatever others are running from.)

My first step upon moving to Ithaca will be finding a good brunch place, however. Maybe I'm doomed to find unhealthy fare wherever I am. Compared to an addiction to crack or reality shows, vegan junk is pretty tame. I still imagine that Jaime would rather I had an addiction to... making tinctures, or something. Actually I don't know what she'd recommend. It'd be work, though.

Regardless, I'm taking a lot of pictures of the places I like in the next month. I'm keeping a record. When I'm miles from fried sugar I can eat, the memory can sustain me. Jaime will be sustained by the belt sizes decreasing.

ADDENDUM: I forgot that Cheese the penguin was there too. He's so quiet, Biscuit gets all the attention.

All You Need Is A Bat, A Ball, And God's Green Earth

2010-02-17T15:13:00.000-08:00

Pitchers and catchers report. The baseball season's spring training has officially begun. For the first time in six years, I will not see a Mariner's game for the entire year. I'm a little upset about that.

I will get to see the Triple-A Binghamton Mets. That'll be fun. But no Major League games, no Ichiro, no cheering what is likely Junior's last season. I'll have to watch online, read the Mariner's blogs, and envision green grass and cool summers in Seattle as the Mariner's roll to a probable division title and lands beyond. It's sad.

I've always rooted for professional sports teams near where I live. I watched what games were on, and didn't concern myself greatly with who won. It was about the game. It's still about the game, but years of going to the ballpark and watching and hearing the history of the Seattle Mariner's means that I am hooked. This is my team. The kids were born here, and I will always love Seattle. So, I'm a Mariner's fan.

It's like my college. I'm going to a different grad school, I've not lived in West Virginia since 2000, but I went to WVU. That's my undergrad school, so that's the college team I follow. There's no way around it.

It's different with baseball anyway. I like watching sports. I just finished a curling match (match? game? I don't even know) between the US and Japan, and I enjoyed it. Women's curling caught my attention for a few minutes. I like sports. But baseball is special. Baseball is geometry and statistics. Baseball is patience and speed. The defense controls the ball in baseball, and the pitcher and batter duel dozens of times a day. It's the greatest game in history.

And I'm going to miss my team's season.

Well, if Seattle is in the World Series, I'm flying back here. And staying in a hotel, and watching every game.

Ode To American Palates: The Taco

2010-02-15T18:53:00.000-08:00

As yon penguin here does show us
the lowly taco is more 'et
When shining vegan yummies are
easier for mine mitts to get

A stew is fine, or sushi good
a delicate salad suffice
Though when hearts yearn for olden time
vegan white trash food digests nice

Some snobbish compadres may balk
at soy meat or faux sour cream tub
I maintain the joys of my youth
In pretend fowl or fake deli sub

O! To glorious day beneath
rusty bleachers in squalid hole
Devouring what my mère sent
imagined grub of Mexico.

It's The, Year Of The Tiger, It's The Thrill Of The Fight

2010-02-14T10:17:00.000-08:00

Happy year of the tiger!

Unfortunately I couldn't find the awesome skit about Survivor that I wanted. But we did have a nice dinner with our friends Jeff and Kelly, complete with tea and Buddha's delight and mochi. It was a great deal of fun, and it reminded me of how important it is to get together and have a good time with good friends. We don't make nearly enough time for it.

Arkaedi was very impressed with the cat, and spent a part of the day chasing it around and being a general spazz. Good to know that Viri doesn't monopolize the family spazzing. When it comes to kitties, she can hold her own. "Kitty say meow! Kitty say meow! AHAHAHAHA!"

The prospect of moving has brought up the problem of friends. We have friends in Ithaca, of course, but I'm sad to leave my good friends here. We've been here six years, and between school and jobs and all, we've made some great friends. Especially our couple friends. We're at that strange age when basically all of our friends are couples. Many of them with kids. Moving so far across the country means we'll have a hard time seeing them, at least for a while. The trip from Seattle to Ithaca is going to be daunting enough with two kids, making it back here a few times a year is impossible. We may move back, certainly, but until we move I think we'll stay back east.

The move makes sense, and we need to do it. But there is a sacrifice, and I'm sad to make it. All of our friends, the kids' friends, Viri's school and social circle... they'll be sorely missed. I hope that we can meet some good friends with kids in Ithaca. I think we will, of course. But we'll miss everyone here badly. Until we find a way to come back.

Or kidnap them.

The Plans©

2010-02-13T10:02:00.000-08:00

As I obliquely hinted at with my previous post and map, we are moving across the country. I am starting a Master's program in Education at Ithaca College, NY. The one that isn't the home of Odysseus. (Funnily enough, I am sitting in Herkimer Coffee as I type this, named after Herkimer NY, a few miles up the road from Ithaca. Synchronicity!)

This is probably happening sooner than expected, due to money and schedule and other issues. It looks like we are leaving at the beginning of April, and moving slowly across the country, stopping to visit and camp. (With tents. Though we will enact a scene from Hairspray, if you like.)(I am more parenthetical when I get nervous and excited. I eat more too. Danger.)

Jaime and I are both exceedingly nervous about this. It's a big change, and an expensive one. But, for our long term careers and well being, it is necessary. We may, actually, even end up back in Seattle when the program is done. We like Seattle. My Pretty was born here. My boy has friends here. We like Seattle, and will miss it. We may find our way back. It depends on where I can find work, and what Jaime's practice looks like in New York. There are a lot of ifs, at this point.

Honestly, I'm fine with that. Through my nervousness and concern is a deeper strain of joy at the change. I always tried to learn from the experience of growing up in a horrible little town, and appreciate the greater world out there. I've lived in a fun big city, little suburbs, a college town. I've lived in two different countries, and traveled through a half dozen more. I've made an effort, at every turn, to soak up what was around me, and breathe in life. I started a family, and cared for my kids, and learned to see the world from the eyes of a little human just entered into life.

This is the next stage in that growth. I'm wise enough to be open to it, and not expect to predict it. At 33, this is a good place to be in, and I'm lucky to be here.

ADDENDUM: Case in point. I had to run to the restroom, and a couple of nice middle aged ladies watched my computer, joking with me about it. This happens a lot of places, but there is something casual about it in Seattle that I love. Jaime and I discussed it yesterday. Seattle is fleece, quiet, calm. Seattle is vegan food and no fancy dress. Seattle is polite and private. Seattle is US. I hope we do find a way to come back.

Crazy Plan Of The Decade

2010-02-10T19:39:00.001-08:00

My Seattle friends will tell you that I am an expert crazy plan maker. I come up with them, and get a few steps, and the cold fist of reality smacks me back into place. I have, however, planned myself into a somewhat-less-crazy-than-usual plan, that actually seems likely to happen! It's a great, career advancing graduate program, complete with relocation and a vacation type trip!

I'm asking for some help, here. This is a map of the "return to the big east" trip, and it includes some family and friend destinations. People who I assume are okay with my cadre of four humans staying and visiting for a day or two. (Or six. Sorry Gramma and Bebe! And sorry Kacie! Your kindness is repaid with visitors!)

View Larger Map

The question I have is this: we wish to do some camping (it'll be spring) and visit some fun locales. (Fun locales for the Barker family mostly mean nature and farmer's markets.)

Any ideas? We'll be rolling across the country in April or May. Savvy, well traveled folks that my friends are, I imagine you have a better idea on this than I do. I haven't traveled over this country since returning from Japan in 2003, and I'm woefully ignorant of most of the middle of the country. And the south. And the north.

We're not positive this is all going to come together, but that's what planning is for. If we get some good ideas together, if money issues coalesce, if many ifs, we'll be making a cross country trip this spring. One can hope and dream. Dream along with me! You know you want to!

Awake And Present

2010-02-10T10:24:00.001-08:00

Well, now I am ready to jump back into this thing. I took some time off, got my head together, and feel a lot better. To be honest, I think I was a little depressed. Which is odd for me; I'm a pretty positive and happy guy. But life events, money worries, career worries, and our little friend's accident conspired against me. Well, she's doing remarkably well and is back at the daycare, I got accepted into a great Master's program that I am incredibly excited about, and I'm feeling fine.

These next few months should be really exciting. It's getting warm, and knowing that we're most likely moving away from Seattle makes me want to go out and do all the fun things that I normally put off. I'll be going to the beaches, eating some donuts, walking around downtown, and trying to wring every last exciting moment from this city. This city that I do love, despite sometimes being frustrated with it. It's a great town, my kids were born here, vegan donuts live here. You gotta love it.

The enthusiasm with which I head back east is powerful. I'm starting a program in childhood education, which is my dream career. I moving to a nice town where I have a great friend. I'm almost sure we can make the move without going bankrupt. Almost.

I'll be back on a reasonable schedule of these posts now. Look forward to moving and planning posts, complete with maps!

A Hiatus For Good And Bad Reasons

2010-01-30T12:57:00.000-08:00

I haven't been posting lately, and there are some good and bad reasons for this. The first bad reason is one of the kids at my daycare and her big sister were in an accident and that really limited the energy and time I cared to devote to typing this blog. I was worried and upset, and I don't make much sense when I write worried and upset. I think those who know me understand the feelings I have for the kids in my care. I grow really attached to them, and I worry about them. I have nightmares about something happening to any of my kids at school, and now that it has come true it doesn't make it anything but more frightening. Thankfully she is doing better than she could have been, and we're all hoping she and her big sister come out of this okay. So, I took a break and spent my time writing old school, pen and paper style. And returned to writing more poems, which I haven't done in a while. It was gratifying, and easier than I would have thought. My love/hate relationship with my writing is especially true of my poetry. But the new stuff is fun to write, and there may be some good work there when all is said and done.

I'm going to take a few deep breaths and start working on the blog again this week.

He's Dead

2010-01-23T13:34:00.000-08:00

Wow. Family Circus has gone round the bend.

Demographic Nightmare

2010-01-23T12:16:00.001-08:00

I hate commercials. I hate them for all the reasons any decent, corporation detesting person hates them. But I have a special reason why I hate them. They have no ability to be relevant to me on any level. I am a moving target, and their attempts to hit me are so far off the mark as to be laughable.

There are two examples of this that I can give. One is the marketing during sporting events. There are a lot of sports fans, and the ads played during football and baseball are expensive and well researched, attempting to sell beer or vacations or other nonsense. I am impervious because I am one of the apparently few people who watch sports and neither drink nor play video games. I have no interest, and in fact I am irritated by ads for video games and alcohol. I change the channel or mute them, and sometimes avoid watching them altogether. Marketing people assume that if you watch football you also drink to excess and eat horrible snack foods and drive thru Taco Time. I do none of these things, and never will. Stop talking to me!

The other thing I enjoy watching is science fiction. This of course makes the marketing people who pigeonhole sports fans crazy, and that's fun. But the late night science fiction commercials are hawking video games, computer stuff, and sexy chat lines. There are also often disgusting junk food ads. No thank you. Please move along.

I'd love to see an ad marketed to me. It'd make heads explode. I want to hand some ad exec a form, with "vegan, sports fan, non-drinker, husband and father, socially liberal but radical politically, spiritual, hates arty and pretentious" and try and see them make an ad. It'd almost have to be a blank white screen, but then that'd be arty and pretentious.

I seriously don't think they could do it. Unless they knew my secret trump card, that despite wearing a plain t-shirt and dickies every day, I secretly long to shop for Brioni suits. And even then, how do you get the suit in a baseball stadium? Checkmate, Madison Avenue!

Healthy Snacks, Kids And The Joy Of Proportionate Response

2010-01-22T11:46:00.000-08:00

I pride myself on providing healthy foods for the kids. I don't mean my kids only eat perfect foods, or anything. I'm not the food nazi that many of my fellow Seattlites are. And trust me in Seattle you see some real nutcases with food. My kids have an occasional doughnut from Mighty-O, or a cookie or Jaime made cupcake. Food is fun, we shouldn't flip out. And though my kids are vegan, if Viri borrows a cheese cracker and eats it on the playground I'm not going to have a fit. Life is too short.

All told, however, my kids eat well. It's not that hard. Check out the picture of Pretty Sue having lunch. Our lunch today was walnuts and carrots and hummus. They loved it. (Viri: "Look at Arkaedi going to town on her food! She's eating and eating!") I did very little. I put out some fresh organic carrots and walnuts, and popped a lid off a container of hummus from the store. It was easy. And kids love it. I don't understand why some people don't feed their children this kind of thing; unless the food nazis have inspired a reaction against it. Or parents really buy into commercials. Are either of those things true? I don't know. Try these simple meals. Kids will thank you.

I stuck black beans in the crock pot for dinner. I have the rice cooker primed. Brown rice and beans for dinner, and they'll enjoy it. It didn't take me any energy or time. I may, if I feel fancy, saute a few tofurky brats in olive oil with garlic and toss them in the pot. That'll be mostly for me.

I really hope that we can start a parent cooking class as part of Jaime's practice. It'd be really great to provide the resource, especially as a parent who isn't that much of a cook. I'd like to show them that you don't need to be a wonderful cook, just use some real veggies and whole grains and it'll end up healthy, pretty much whatever you do.

And no need to be a pretentious food nazi either. Kids who eat well won't have a heart attack if they eat a few chocolate chips either. And Mighty-O doughnuts are good for the soul.

Beach Weather, Seattle Style

2010-01-20T09:56:00.000-08:00

It wasn't pouring down the rain, so it's beach weather! When it gets a little warm, or the sun comes out for a day, we spend the entire time outside. It reminds me of why I love Seattle. The beach and the clear mountain views are the antidote to Seattle drivers, dreary days, and 4pm sunsets. They are pure medicine for the heart. I know I'll have to leave Seattle, and there will be a lot of things I don't miss. But I will miss the Puget Sound and the mountains and the beaches. They are lovely. (I'll also miss doughnuts.)

The kids had a great time running around. In the morning we went to Carkeek, and they were really excited. They had just woken up from naps in the afternoon when we went to Richmond beach, and they were a little confused. It was nice to be outside though, and they dealt with dazed post nap confusion fairly well.

I hadn't been to Richmond beach before, and I was really glad to see it. It's laid out differently from Carkeek, with the train tracks way back from the beach and a long walkway leading to the water. It reminded me of the northern California coast. If you move up from the city of a Seattle a little bit everything looks a little like northern California. I don't know why that is. I like it though; it's a great layout, with more beach grass and shrubs. It feels like there's more space than at Carkeek, even though I think Carkeek is actually bigger. Carkeek's space is behind the tracks, and Richmond's is by the beach.

This weekend, with beaches and nice weather, made me ready for the spring and summer. I'm not even sure where I'll be, but I hope I can enjoy some of the Seattle spring at least before we move. Ideally I'd like to be here this summer and spend the days in the parks, and driving up Rainier again. But we'll see where needs take us. I do know that regardless of what happens I will always have a warm place in my heart for the natural beauty around here. Nothing compares to it.

Arkaedi Sue Arrested

2010-01-14T21:39:00.000-08:00

This is a mug shot taken earlier today when Arkaedi Sue (aka Pretty Princess, Pretty Pretty, Little Beef) was taken into custody for multiple counts of extreme cuteness. She was wrapped up in pajamas and brought home at approximately 8pm, Seattle time.

Here she is wearing bear ears in a blatant attempt to be cute. The pink dress is icing on the cuteness cake. Her father has been arrested as an accessory to the dress crime. (Not pictured: really cute tights and even cuter pink boots.) This photo was taken at the PRC, where she purportedly engages in multiple acts of cuteness a day.

Below she is seen using her cuteness to destroy Ariel, which is either a crime or not vegan. It is unsure what she is attempting in this photo, but judging by Ariel's hair, it can't be good. Ariel is just one of many long haired dolls gazed at cutely in her two years of crime.

This known menace to society is now safely under house arrest. When reached for comment she threw the phone down on the ground, then could be heard in the distance saying, "My nice! My nice!" A plea of not guilty by reason of red hair will be entered on her behalf.

Parenting In The Land Of Uncertainty

2010-01-11T21:00:00.000-08:00

There are a lot of things that you must come to terms with as a parent. One of the most difficult is the fact that you must put your kid out into the world and let them be themselves. With Viri starting at preschool this week, that has been particularly burdensome for me. I'm not good at letting go. Even in the small, eight hours a week way. I'm anxious, for him and for me.

There are two reasons for this. One, I'm sensitive to his nature. He takes things seriously, and I worry he'll get upset, or hurt. That isn't particularly logical or helpful, but there it is. I didn't start off so well with the educational system, even though I eventually enjoyed it, and I'd like him to have a less traumatic first few years. Two, I'm sensitive to my nature. I don't like dealing with teachers or administrators who have their own agenda and want to criticize me or him for little things that make their lives difficult. There is a precedent for this. When Viri was two, we sent him to this horrible woman who was "Waldorf-inspired" and highly unpleasant. She spelled his name wrong, and yelled at us for not having him potty trained, and basically just gave us lip about everything. The one I remember best is her frustration that he didn't want to sit for snack time. At two. We took him out quick.

This school seems far better, of course, and I have high hopes for it. I know also that I need to let go of what I want and what embarrasses me and just let him go out into the world. Even at four there is value in the lessons he is learning, and while they shouldn't be harsh or unbearable, they don't necessarily need to be sunshine and lollipops either. I understand that. I want him to learn to function in school and in society. I want him to find teachers and mentors who will foster that.

But I know him. I see him every day, every waking hour, and have for four years. He is difficult, and loud, and physical. He is obstinate and pushy, and single minded. He is also passionate, and sincere, and fun. He is kind and loving and gentle and open. He is a lovely and sweet and brilliant little person, and I want him to grow to be a lovely and sweet and brilliant man. I'll push him and prod him if that's necessary; but I won't let him be undervalued. He deserves better than that.

Honestly, every human being deserves better than that. Viri is the human being given to me as a son, however, and I have responsibility to be there for him. I intend to do that. I've made three good decisions in my life, and one of which was having Viri. Now I need to add a few more to guide him along the way.

It's A Big Place

2010-01-09T15:39:00.001-08:00

Sufi Poems: Eight

2010-01-08T21:57:00.000-08:00

I haven't done a post about Sufi poetry for a while. I haven't had anything especially interesting to say, perhaps, or maybe I just got a little tired and lost writing about myself. I'm inspired today to write about a couple of Hafez verses, however, in a large part because of recent late night discussions with Jaime.

I don't know what other couples with kids do; it's tough to make time to just hang out together the way you do before you have children. Jaime and I usually take a few hours after the kids go to sleep, sneak into their play room on the other end of the house, and talk. The past few weeks these discussions have become especially fruitful and exciting. I always know how brilliant and wonderful Jaime is, and how lucky I am to have her. But these recent discussions have reminded me forcefully of how necessary she is to my life.

Which brings me to the poems. A lot of our talks lately have been about religion and spirituality. We are attempting to discover the best way of introducing spiritual ideas into the lives of our kids. We've never been comfortable with mainstream ideas of spiritual things, and our own paths are strange and difficult, as true spiritual paths often are. Working in a daycare, I hear little kid conversations about God and the universe that make me deeply concerned about what my son will learn about his own spiritual path through his peers. (If you're wondering, to most kids, God is Santa/mean dad, and he randomly turns people into birds.)

As always when I am disturbed and challenged by ideas Jaime lobs at me, I look to the poems of the masters. Not surprisingly, Hafez faced a pretty awful establishment that had warped spiritual beliefs into a mockery of Truth for money and power*. He'd recognize our frustration and sadness at the current state of churches and states all too well. He wrote some amazing poems about the shackles people attempt to put on the Beloved, and how they can be overcome.

The small man build cages for everyone he knows.
While the sage,
who has to duck his head
when the moon is low,
keeps dropping keys all night long
for the beautiful rowdy
prisoners

...

Someone put You on a slave block
and the unreal bought You.
Now I keep coming to Your owner saying,
'This one is mine.'
You often overhear us talking
and this can make your heart leap with
excitement.

Don't worry. I will not let sadness possess you.
I will gladly borrow all the gold I need
to get you back.

So, we wait for some way to provide the kids with wisdom, and muddle through as best we can. They have their own paths, and I don't presume to have a perfect answer for their journey. I wish I had a small glimmer of where they need to place their feet. I suppose in trying to find some place for them to live and grow safely and honestly I am finding that first place. I need to be a big enough person and a good enough father to trust that they'll take the step.

*Amazing how often that happens. To be clear, I don't intend this to criticize people who are involved in organized religion. There are great and beautiful people there, I'm sure. And one good person doing good work is to be lauded. But I can't get past the problems. I can't ignore that genuine spiritual people are persecuted while greed and corruption pollute the religion. I certainly don't mean these poems as a judgement, and I doubt Hafez did either. He meant them as a call to insanity, as Love can be crazy.

Coulton And Career Study

2010-01-02T19:43:00.001-08:00

I'm listening to Jonathan Coulton and contemplating my career changes. That isn't quite as random as it sounds; my usual habit of non-sequiturs to begin blog posts (or conversations, or job interviews) isn't the only reason those two things go together in my mind. In fact, there are two reasons in addition to my randomness that I mention them.

One. Coulton is fun, cheery, silly music, and I have been trying to gear up for the application process and long painful internal debate that accompanies deciding what I want to do. It isn't only my lack of ambition and multiple tattoos that have kept me away from real jobs all of these years. I hate the process, I hate the bureaucracy. Some of it is even necessary, I understand. The hoops are to be jumped through in order to limit the number of total jumpers and narrow it down to a manageable pool for the managers comprehend. I get that; but I hate being a jumper. So, Coulton makes me laugh and relax and just go with it, and get into a program that makes sense for me and maybe makes me a dollar or two to pay bills.

Two. Coulton does what, presumably, he enjoys. (I don't know this; maybe singing novelty songs is his punishment for flunking out of Juilliard.) I don't necessarily want to do something that's laughter and giggles every moment, but I'd love to do something rewarding. I'd love to have a job I felt made the world a tiny bit better. Or gave someone a lift.

I'm in the process of figuring this out, I think. Which is a huge step. For the first time in a long time I feel like I can keep a big picture goal in mind. I'm not as clouded by ideology or my own sense of fun or adventure. I've got an idea of where I can go, and how to get there. It's no "Baby's Got Back." But it's a nice start.

Sarah's Arkaedi Pictures

2010-01-02T13:26:00.000-08:00

Check out Sarah's blog for more Arkaedi cuteness!
Complete with pickles!

Arkaedi Day

2010-01-01T10:32:00.000-08:00

It' s been two years since Arkaedi Sue was born. It doesn't feel like that much time has passed. I remember bringing her home from the birth center as though it was moments ago. Even more than with Viri, her first two years have flown by me. I can't believe my baby girl is walking and talking. (Today: "My birthday tomorrow!" "No, it's today." "My birthday tomorrow!")

Perhaps it's just that I'm not having anymore kids, or that she's my only daughter, but I don't think I'll accept her growing up the way I can accept Viri. He's my oldest, my son, and I have dreams for him as a man. Arkaedi will be a lovely woman, and have her own success, but I don't have the clarity with her that I should. Perhaps that will come with time. More likely, however, I am doomed to be one of those fathers who always see their daughter as a baby. I suppose as long as I maintain and awareness it isn't necessarily a problem. I don't imagine I have a choice either way, so me and Pretty will have to make the best of it.

I asked Arkaedi what she wants me to say on the blog, since it's about her. She said "My birthday tomorrow!" Happy birthday Pretty. Today.

Boxing Day: Ouch

2009-12-26T14:48:00.000-08:00

Today is Boxing Day, and we're gathering up donations and cleaning the house. We took a little Boxing Day break and ran up to Carkeek Park, and let the kids run around for an hour. It was wonderful, cold but clear, and the kids had a blast. I, however, was not careful and fell hard, crashing my lumbering oaf body to the concrete. Both of my hands are now horribly sore. There's no permanent damage, but it doesn't feel nice.

Then, as an irritation addendum, I broke my teapot. Luckily I have a back up. A true tea aficionado is never without a reserve in which to prepare his tea. Overall is was a nice relaxing day. I just need to learn to be careful. The strangest thing about my age is that I feel the same as I did at eighteen. I just can't correct for mistakes as easily, and when I make a mistake, the pain doesn't ease in minutes. It takes days.

Taviri is really hilarious about Boxing Day. I don't think he understands at all that we are gathering donations for Goodwill, but he is so excited about the day regardless. Whatever his personality quirks, his unbridled enthusiasm for whatever is happening at the moment is a great asset. The day seems more fun now.

On The First Day Of Christmas

2009-12-25T19:39:00.001-08:00

My truly lovely family gave to me a wonderful day. Until some late onset spazz attacks at Herc and Sarah's Christmas dinner extravaganza, the kids were incredibly sweet and well behaved on Christmas day. This was our first Christmas that really felt like a family event; everyone is big enough to enjoy it, the kids really got into their gifts. The night before, Viri and I curled up and watched the NORAD Santa tracker, and talked about the traditions of the day. This is an interesting time, when they are young enough to look at the holiday as a special day, but too young to understand what is going on or what is expected of them.

Everyone had a great day, so I consider it a rousing success. Viri got various fun gifts, and Arkaedi made everything super cute. Due in a large part to The Full family, and Gramma and Bebe, and Herc and Sarah, my kids were loaded with awesome presents. It pays to have great friends and family, kids. That's a good holiday lesson.

If anyone is interested, here are the multitude of holiday photos. Merry Christmas to all! Joy and peace to you. And to me and my exhausted children, a good and restful night. Hopefully silent. But I'm not banking on that part.

It's A Christmas Week Celebration

2009-12-23T20:03:00.001-08:00

We've had a fun week of Christmas celebration here, beginning with a trip to Seattle Center to see the winter village with the mighty Herc. It was a good time, and Viri ran spazzing into the chilly afternoon. As he is wont to do. To be honest, the standard money and career and parenting frustrations had been building for a few weeks, and I was really not looking forward to the season. I've been avoiding it fairly successfully. But, the sight of the festive families and my kids running and playing cheered me up, and I shifted into holiday gear.

Jaime takes the twelve days of Christmas idea very seriously. The twelve days represent the months, and you are supposed to treat them as a microcosm of the coming year. Christmas eve is the last day of advent, a day off, so to speak, and Christmas day begins the twelve days. We're very sincerely trying to make these days good, and prepare ourselves for the enxt year. It will have it's trials and tribulations, certainly. The next year for us is very up in the air. Which can be good or bad; hence the preparing. I'm setting the foundation for a great year for our family, in my attitude and behavior.

Today we took a vacation day. We drove out to the little Bavaria of western Washington, Leavenworth. It is a really fun and odd little town. It really reminded us of the touristy type places in Switzerland. (A lot of people in Seattle mock it for being a tourist destination or not actually being Bavaria. Which is ridiculous; sure it's touristy. But being "German" in a fun way isn't any sillier than being a French restaurant or Japanese karaoke place. It's just a theme. Pull the stick out, city of Seattle, and relax.) It's a neat place, and the kids just loved it. Viri went sledding, we looked at bizarre German knick knacks, and got keychains with our family crests! (Barkers have lions and gryphons! We're awesome.)

The kids were perfect, which was a pleasant change from the earlier part of the week. I think the mood was affecting them. I know Viri especially was sensitive to how irate I have been. So, I made an effort to relax and have fun, and Jaime and I joked and laughed, and the kids just fell right into step. We had an amazing family outing. The high point for me was watching Viri dive headfirst down the hill on his sled. He was a berserker today, and I think it really opened him up. With the weather being chilly and wet, he hasn't gotten enough outside time. He is an outside boy; he behaves so much better when he can run and scream and go crazy.

Tomorrow is a day to get things in order, and take some personal time. I'm going to the gym, cleaning the car, and clearing my head for the twelve days of Christmas. I think it will do me good to take it pretty seriously this year as well. I want good things for the family in the coming year. And today I was reminded that good things aren't luck. They happen when you take a breath, open your heart, and have fun with the people you love. In my experience there's no such thing as luck.*

*That's in the Bible, right?

Baseball Off-Season Shenanigans

2009-12-19T10:59:00.000-08:00

The baseball off season has been very wonderfully busy for the Seattle Mariners. We acquired a Cy Young pitcher in Cliff Lee, we got rid of some bad contracts, and we got a nice hitter with the hilarious name of Milton Bradley. In addition to the pieces already in place and the feel good signing of everyone's childhood hero Ken Griffey Jr., this is shaping up to be a masterpiece.

Bradley has a pretty bad reputation as a troublemaker, actually, but I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. For one, when you're winning, those things become less important. Secondly, I've heard some pretty nasty things said about him from the fans in Chicago, and that would make everyone a little irate. I can promise you this, Milton: we might chuckle softly at your fun name, but there will be no racist epithets from the fans at Safeco. We do not tolerate that in Seattle.

So, the year that I may be leaving Seattle is the year that they trade for some star players and really make a try at contention. They haven't been to the playoffs since 2001, and they look to seriously want to get back in 2010. If I do move, I am flying back to Safeco for the games this season. I'll hitchhike to the playoff games if I must, but I will not miss a winning season here.

I often state that people should support teams by geographic region. Meaning, if you live in NYC, you root for the Mets or the (God forbid) Yankees. But I have destroyed my own theory with my devotion to the Mariner's in the past few years. I can change football teams, I can root for other NL teams...But I'm doomed to be a Mariner fan, for good or ill. No matter where I live, Seattle is going to be my baseball team. I am now stuck with two teams, my university, West Virginia University, and the Mariners.

The current GM, Jack Zduriencik, definitely gives me reason to hope. If I was the kind to hold up signs at the ballpark to express myself, I'd make one that says "Cliff Lee is great, Jack Z, but you had me at Junior."

On second thought maybe I'll become the kind of guy who makes signs just for that one.

Paella Man! Wing One Over Here!

2009-12-17T20:11:00.000-08:00

This has been the month of cooking experiments at the Barker household. As you may have noticed, I am enamored with olive oil, garlic, and other Mediterranean staples. My favorite Mediterranean dish I've ever made is the farmer's paella. It's fairly quick, easy, and wonderfully colorful. It's also probably the most nutritious thing I have ever eaten. It's basically fresh veggies and rice in vegetable broth. This is actually so wonderful that I'm going to post how to make it. I don't know if anyone will want to try it, but I highly recommend that you do.

First, what you need. It's flexible, but the basic stuff I use are as follows:
2 cloves garlic
A nice olive oil (3tbl or so for this recipe)
A yellow onion
Saffron threads
2 cups Veggie broth (I use low sodium)
1 red bell pepper
1 cup arborio rice
1 lb tomatoes (four normal roma tomatoes are roughly a pound)
6-8 baby carrots
1 bag frozen lima beans
1 bag frozen peas
salt
pepper (NOT Pepa)
some slivered almonds for garnishing

I cook the entire recipe in one big cast iron, save for the first bit, which I simmer in a small sauce pan.

First, simmer the broth with a 1/4 teaspoon of the saffron threads. (I just toss in a small bit. I don't like measuring unless I have too. It's why I'm a good cook and a lousy baker.) Don't boil the sauce, just get a light simmer.

In the big skillet, saute the garlic and onions for a few minutes.
Add the bell pepper, and cook a few more minutes.
Add the tomatoes, diced fairly fine, and all of the juices.
Stir in the rice, uncooked. It'll cook up nicely in the next few steps.
Mix all that up fairly well, then add the broth.
Simmer this on medium high heat, then turn it down.
Add the lima beans and the baby carrots. For tender carrots chop them up pretty fine.
Cover it and simmer on low-medium heat for ten minutes.
Add the frozen peas. (I never use the whole package. I use a half cup or so)
Simmer for a few more minutes. It should be creamy and thick. If it's runny, or the rice isn't soft, leave it a few minutes.
Serve immediately with slivered almonds on each bowl.
Make sure to honor the Simpsons and order each guest (ORDER them) to say, "Yo, paella man! Wing one over here!" before they get served.

This is a wonderful and wholesome wintry delight. Viri even likes it. ("Papa, this is not gross!")

This is adapted from the Mediterranean Vegan Kitchen, my new favorite cookbook. Buy one today!

Rifftrax Xmas Joy

2009-12-17T12:14:00.000-08:00

Herc, Sarah, Jeff and I saw Rifftrax live last night. It was as wonderful as it sounds. Enjoy these insane clips.

Nice Cooking Part Deux

2009-12-13T12:50:00.001-08:00

I know how to spend a weekend. I went to the gym, burned off a few calories, then proceeded to pile them back on with pastries. I continued my experiment with cooking Mediterranean delights today with a favorite in southern France, pain au chocolat. Or, chocotastic doughy yumminess. I was exceedingly pleased with how these came out, although I can't really take any credit. Jaime helped me, and the cookbook (Vegan Brunch) was from Ryan Full. So, all I really did was listen to Jaime, follow directions, and make some yummy pastries. For me, however, that's a huge win.

These have a special place in my heart because of a trip Jaime and I took to Europe in the winter of 1999-2000. My parents were separating, I had just graduated college, and I was a little discomfited by everything going on in my life. Jaime and I flew to Italy, and traveled through Italy and France and Switzerland as a graduation present to me. It was a wonderful trip, perhaps our greatest vacation ever. We had been married so long we traveled together easily, with no arguments or disagreements about where to go or what to do.

A few days before New Year's eve we ended up in Nice, France. We decided to stay there, and spend the holiday relaxing on the chilly beach and eating wonderful food. No one in France was panicking about the Y2K nonsense, which shows that they are more sensible than Americans in at least one way. As one person there put it, Nice survived Roman invasion, marauding barbarians, and Nazis. It would still be there in 2001. That's just a sample of their wonderful attitude.

Jaime and I spent every morning walking in the cold, eating pain au chocolat. We would walk up the old streets, past beautiful old churches cottages. It was a lovely time. On New Year's Eve at midnight a beautiful French girl ran around kissing everyone and saying "Bonne Anne!" or something that meant happy New Year. Pain au chocolat makes me full and happy and transports me to that memory. And they look good too!

Mediterranean Extraordinaire

2009-12-12T20:20:00.000-08:00

I had an extremely successful cooking experience today. I made risotto and bruschetta, and they came out great. I took the time to venture into holiday shoppers and hit Delaurenti's deli downtown, and it was well worth it. The extra good olive oil and cooking wine made the difference. The risotto was slow cooked to perfection, and the vine ripened tomatoes in olive oil and balsamic vinegar made for a fantastic bruschetta appetizer. I was very pleased with the final result, and so where Jaime and the kids.

The entire trip downtown was fun, in truth. It was packed at the Pike Place Market, with tons of people out for the holiday shopping. Everyone was having fun, and celebrating that age old Seattle tradition of standing wherever they wanted and not moving for anyone. Even Viri got in the spirit and stood in doorways, blocking people from moving.

Seriously though the mood was nice, and there were carolers and decorations and trees enough to please Viri. Arkaedi didn't notice as much, as she is less impressed with Christmas and more impressed with mundane things at her age. ("Purple wall!") It made for a pleasant day off, and everyone was happy and festive. The holiday season is officially here at the Barker household. Arkaedi even limited her attacks on Viri's face to one today, in a charitable holiday spirit.

It's The End The End Of The Quarter

2009-12-11T15:43:00.000-08:00

I had Ramones in my head all day, since Viri heard Blitzkrieg Bop on a commercial and said, "Hey Papa I like that let's go song." I was torn between irritation that his exposure was on a commercial, and joy at hearing my music hating child express pleasure at a song. A fun song, at that.

It's the end of a quarter of work. As usual, I'm torn; it's nice to have some time off, especially for the kids. But I hate having three unpaid weeks. Especially when Jaime gets to working on the budget. It reminds me again of the unsustainability of our situation. It's a shame, because I love my job, and I love Seattle. But I don't have a way for this to work long term. I need to get a better paying job, with fewer weeks off a year.

The plus side of all of this, as I mentioned in my career ruminations earlier, is my search for just such a job has been really interesting and rewarding. I'm discovering what I want to do, and how that can turn into what I can make money doing. I'm not hamstrung by ideology. I'm ready to just flip through the metaphorical listings and make some choices. Hopefully, when the new year rolls around, I'll have some concrete progress to show for all of my cogitation. Which will be a first time, granted, but I'm willing to accept that the first time for this has come.

And here's Pretty in a lovely pink dress: who wouldn't want to work and provide for that paragon of cuteness?

Nobody, that's who.

Live Cinematic Titanic!

2009-12-09T10:18:00.000-08:00

This is one of the films we saw live when they played in Seattle. I'm not sure where this live dvd was filmed, but I'm sure it's awesomely wonderful.

Terrible Not Quite Twos

2009-12-06T21:53:00.001-08:00

We have entered that dreaded phase, the terrible ego maniacal twos. Arkaedi Sue is a demon on wheels. (When... when she is on wheels. Usually she's a demon on feet.)(Actually she's a demon in awesome pink boots. Perfect.)

In a few short seconds, she scratches Viri, knocks over his soy milk, runs into the computer room and deletes something, then does a victory dance. I don't even know how she moves so fast. She must have planned out the attack in order to execute it so ruthlessly. It's deadly efficiency from someone who is three feet tall and twenty five pounds. (Viri hugged her and said he still loved her. He's a trooper.)

I remember this stage with Viri. It was the "never again will I have children" phase. Now, knowing I probably won't be having any more, it is both more and less frustrating. I'm anxious for it to be over, but I'm sad, too. They're only irritating in this special way for a short time. Which sounds sarcastic, but it isn't.

Arkaedi is going through this sooner than Viri did. I guess it's a combination girl/second kid thing, but she is terrible a few months before two, and he was terribly a few months before three. Maybe Viri just saved it up. Maybe I didn't notice it as easily. I surely notice this; the milk stains and scars on my son are a record.

At least she's cute about it. She gets away with so much more due to her cuteness. After dumping her food out for the third time the other day, I growled at her in exasperation. She ran over to the doorway, threw her hands in the air, and shouted "Me!" at the top of her lungs. Which, now that I think about it, means she wins. I have a feeling I'd better get used to that. Pretty Pretty is born to be a winner.

Me Time: Crayons And Potties

2009-12-02T09:41:00.000-08:00

We spend our free time in various ways, reading, watching a show, or perhaps having a cup of coffee and relaxing. The kids have there own ways to find down time. Viri, avoiding his pestering little sister, goes to the potty and takes some crayons. He draws up a few starship Enterprises, and has a few moments free of Arkaedi Sue.

Arkaedi Sue, when she isn't poking and scratching at her poor brother, sits and draws by herself at the table. She draws kitties and babies, mostly. She often draws Papa. She doesn't have the passion for the starship Enterprise that he does. She makes up for it by singing cute songs as she draws.

The ability the kids have to just spend time having fun is really great. Both of them are always enjoying themselves, and they rarely complain that they're bored. Maybe this is because I'm always around, but I think they are good at keeping themselves occupied. Two and four are strange ages, and it's funny to watch their worldviews adapt to the situations they see around them. The strange part is not how they see the world; that's often odd and funny. The strange part is that their basic temperament is not altered. They still act like themselves, even when faced with totally new paradigms. Viri is the little fist of justice, Arkaedi is physical and singing. (Beef Singsong!)

I hope to be able to see this aspect of them, even as they grow to adulthood. I know the seeds of the little babies are still there, in some sense. I want the wisdom to continue to appreciate it. And to have a daughter who doesn't get too mad when I call her Beef.

Brain Flexing And Neurological Heft

2009-11-29T11:20:00.000-08:00

If last year was my year of being reminded to keep my physical health up, this year is the year of the mental exercise. I've always prided myself on being able to learn. Especially the things that interest me. So, this year, I'm making an effort to dust off some books, nail down some logical puzzles and linguistic acrobatics, and get me some ol' fashioned book learnin'.

To start with, I got a few books of Greek and Latin. I figured I'd really go old fashioned. It's really exciting, and I love it. I adore languages, and I've always had some skill at learning and using them. It's a little different to just read ancient languages; my skill has always been in speaking and communication. Ask anyone who's spoken Japanese or Spanish with me-- it ain't pretty, but I get the job done. With my ancient language study, I'm trying to approach it differently. Much like a logical problem, I'm trying to get the basic structures down, and not communicate basic ideas. An advantage of studying something no one else speaks or uses is the process becomes wholly an intellectual one, and the social and cultural concerns I usually obsess over are non-existent.

One my major problems has always been my laziness. Not the "lay around the couch" kind of laziness; I'm actually pretty energetic. But the intellectual laziness that comes from not being challenged by mediocre problems. School was always easy for me, even college. I wasn't brilliant, but it was easy to be good. When it's easy to be good, a mentally lazy person like me never strives to be great. Now, at a relatively young 33, I feel the desire to push myself to reach for an intellectual greatness. If not a world shattering greatness, at least great beyond what I have used my mind for so far.

I've spent a lot of time being the person I wish to be, spiritually and emotionally. I'm a good father, I hope, and a good husband. (Or, Jaime's a good liar!) I don't want to be a Senator or a millionaire, or anything ridiculous. But I want to use my mind to do some good work, for me and my community. I haven't decided exactly what it means to attempt this, or exactly how: part of my cure for laziness is taking time to think it through, to plan it to the last detail. I wouldn't leave my kids in a situation where I hadn' contemplated every permutation, and I don't ever plan on leaving my brain in such a place. Not anymore.

Thanksgiving Thankfulness And Thankless Tasks

2009-11-27T13:24:00.000-08:00

We had a mixed holiday yesterday. On one hand, we had a wonderful dinner at our friends' houses, including a meal at one place and dessert at another. On the other hand, our house flooded for the second time this year and a ton of our stuff was ruined. So, after a morning spent worrying and being really upset, the afternoon with friends was much needed. Today, we're cleaning and trying to figure out what we can save and what we must trash. Jaime is doing most of the deciding.

On the plus side, today is a nice day, and we're not as upset as we could be. It's all a matter of perspective. In the grand scheme of things, some ruined things are not the end of the world. The real problem now is trying to sort through the stuff and figure out where it goes and what to do next. Jaime is a natural hoarder, and there is a lot of stuff to organize. We did have the nice meal and a night's sleep to energize us though, so we'll get it done.

All of this has a huge silver lining for me: it really highlights my search for what I want to do next. I feel young, in a way I haven't felt for years.

It's odd. I am young, at 33. But for a few years, with kids and money and poor habits and all of that, I have been feeling overextended and worn out. Suddenly, in the past few months, that has gone away. Even yesterday, with the frustration and sadness of dealing with the house, I felt excited and filled with purpose. Jaime says it's change; and there is no doubt I am a junkie for change. But I thing it's also the energy of being reminded that I'm young, I have a wonderful family, I'm healthy, and there are always options out there for people who want to excel.

I no longer define success by the narrow terms that used to limit me. I spent my twenties trying to be true to myself. I wanted an ideological victory. In a sense I achieved that victory, by learning the shallowness of ideology. In my thirties, I want to excel at being who I am, as a person. My kids are growing, and I'm trying to provide for them, socially and spiritually as well as materially. That process of learning what really matters to me as a person has given me strength that the ideological quest never could. I no longer have a standard to aspire to on paper, I have a person to be. I used to write about abstractions that made up a person without understanding the limitations of those abstractions. The next decade is my concrete dedication to growth, for me and my family. That means materially, spiritually, and socially. Most important, it does not mean abstractly or ideologically.

Very Fresh

2009-11-24T21:03:00.001-08:00

Careers And Working (For A Living, Not On A Highway)

2009-11-24T10:17:00.001-08:00

I'm continuing my ever-evolving quest to evaluate my career and professional goals. I expect this to continue until I die, so please don't expect any great epiphanies. (Actually it may continue well past death-- I'll be the one lined up at the pearly gates discussing possible Seraphim openings with Gabriel.)

I've always been guided by ideology, something which I have worked hard these past few years to stop. I didn't go to law school after college, in a large part because of my professor's disdain for the profession. I went to acupuncture school to learn about alternative health because of a political interest in the health care system. I'm grateful for the people who informed these decisions, of course; they shaped me and allowed me to move forward in my real life. No one would have been well served by me in a cubicle and miserable for this past decade. (Well, the prostitution and pastry industries would have benefited-- but no one cares about them.)

I needed to be where I was, when I was. Now, as Jaime begins her career and evaluates where she is where she wants to be, I'm doing the same. I have time: I'm just over thirty, my kids are ready to start school in a few years. This is the chance to really think about where I want to be and how to get there. I'm really happy I spent the time I did, building myself and my family. It sounds self-indulgent, and maybe it is a little, but I know if I had tried to have a career at twenty I would have messed up something badly. Now, I have a stable marriage, two great kids, and years to really make a living. I could work from now for thirty years starting in two years and still be relatively young. Especially if J succeeds in hiding all the sugar in the house.

I'm off to write resumes and contemplate where I want to be in two years when both of the kids are in school. I feel strangely how my mother must have felt, when her kids were getting bigger and she went off to school to become a teacher. Oddly enough, my life has paralleled hers in this way. And perhaps I'll look back on my few years with the kids tiny, me at home, as the best of my life. But somehow I don't think so; I think the best years of your life are very much in how you live it, and in how you appreciate the moments in front of you. At least, that's what I'll tell Gabriel when I'm interviewing for the guardian angel job.

A Long Winter's Rest?

2009-11-22T09:31:00.000-08:00

Apologies to family and friends who keep up with my blog. With a busy week, and the dark and dreary Seattle weather, we haven't gotten out as much, and so I haven't had a ton to write about. In the coming weeks we have some time off, a holiday, and I'll finish a fun book about the Cincinnati Reds. I promise I'll get back to work on writing about the kids soon. In the meantime, check out this!

The Soul Of Baseball

2009-11-15T17:59:00.000-08:00

I'm really getting into sports in my thirties. It's odd; I'm not sure exactly where the impulse comes from, but it's happening and I'm going with it. (I'm referring, of course, to the two important sports: football and baseball. Soccer gets a pass for being Europe-y and fun to play, if impossible to watch sober. The others are not sports, and should be watched accordingly.)

I love baseball to a great extent. While I'll watch football and have fun (I'm watching the Colts and Patriots now. Great names. Indianapolis Colts. New England Patriots. Definitely in my top ten team names) baseball really means something to me. I'm moved by baseball. I'm hurt when people don't get it. I'm angered by fans and owners who don't treat the game with respect. I agree with one of my heroes, Buck O'Neil, who said that baseball and jazz are the two greatest American inventions. I learned a ton of amazing things about him and his amazing life, and read a ton of the cool sayings that got recorded in Joe Posnanski's book, The Soul of Baseball. It's about baseball, and America, and race and faith. It's mostly about Buck O'Neil. He also wrote a great book about the Cincinnati Reds, which is fun. (I've really gone to town on baseball books this month.)

Buck O'Neil, as any casual fan even knows, was a Negro League first baseman who later became the first black coach in the majors. He was a brilliant baseball man, and in a different time would have been a manager or a GM. He was smart, he charmed everyone who met him, and he said wonderful quotable things. (Another of my favorites: "There are angels everywhere.")

The book is on my list as one of the greatest I have ever read. I'm quite a reader, and I don't make that statement lightly. It is an amazing book. Joe basically follows Buck through his life for a year or so, chronicling his interactions, listening as he makes the effort to remember people who deserve to be remembered. When baseball fans like me go on about baseball, we often talk about the history of the game, and how that tradition makes it great. But that tradition isn't great because it's all good; on the contrary, it's great because it's enormous, flawed, and American. Baseball is intertwined with the country, and love it or hate it, every American is a product of that history as well. It's fascinating to me for that reason.

I highly recommend that book to everyone interested in baseball. Or race. Or faith. Or awesome people. Or anyone else. Look, just read the book.

Top Ten Team Names, in no particular order:
1. NY Giants (the baseball one was first)
2. NY Titans (better than Jets)
3. Cincinnati Reds
4. Chicago Cubs (so cute. "cubs." cuddly)
5. New England Patriots (the whole region. we're too big for one state!)
6. NY Yankees ( hate 'em, of course. but good name.)
7. Washington Nationals
8. Boston Red Sox/Chicago White Sox (tie)(or pair? hehe)
9. Philadelphia Athletics
10. Indianapolis Colts (as cute as cubs, but tougher!)

This list was restricted to Major League or NFL teams. I could have talked about minor leagues for days. Or Negro League teams. Atlanta Black Crackers? Genius!

Space Ghost And Dino Boy Together Inexplicably

2009-11-14T08:26:00.001-08:00

My son's obsession with strange and disturbing cartoons continues, this time with the discovery of the 1966 insanity that is Space Ghost and Dino Boy. They aren't together in the show, just paired together in separate shorts for no discernible reason. They have nothing in common: Space Ghost is a superhero who turns invisible and wastes everyone's time until a monkey can save him or get saved, and Dino Boy is a virulently racist kid who travels around with a caveman and dinosaur and runs from things.

Space Ghost is a pretty good time in some ways. The voices are over the top. (Jace is voiced by Tim Matheson, Vice President Hoynes in the West Wing!) The animation is horrible, but colorful. Space Ghost has a fun array of powers from his wrist bands, although the turning invisible seems the least effective of them. When you can make giant pile-drivers appear and smash your enemies, is there a need for subterfuge? But despite some of these silly problems, and the attempt of the writers to shoehorn the whole "invisible space ghost" theme into a science fiction show, Space Ghost is pretty good. The real problem with this show is Dino Boy.

First of all, the boy is voiced by Johnny Carson, and that made me waste time discovering that it isn't THAT Johnny Carson. I bet he got really sick of that. Second, the premise is one of those half baked ideas that drive me nuts. The boy crashes in South America, and finds a lost kingdom of cavemen and dinosaurs. Now I recognize that these writers didn't have Wikipedia to look up La Paz, but come on, writers. You know South America is not Pangaea. Is it that hard to just make the kid fly through a time warp? I'll forgive the caveman/dinosaurs living at the same time thing. It's a cartoon. But I won't forgive lazy storytelling.

The second, larger problem, is that the show is oddly racist. The bad guys are weird caricatures of Africans, or sometimes Native Americans. One strange villain is a short dark skinned guy with a bald head, straight out of a racist political cartoon of the 19th century. I understand that 1966 is not 2009, but come on, guys. It isn't 1830 either. At one point Viri just turned to me and frowned. They don't use any bad terms, so I didn't want to turn it off; but the creepy image was a bit much. I would definitely avoid it for my kids, if these strange and disturbing cartoons weren't so captivating to Viri.

The Dino Boy doesn't do anything either. The two episodes I watched involved him running from bad guys he found. He just wanders around and finds trouble? Then runs away? Solid storytelling there! At least Space Ghost had fun monsters that chased him and developed ridiculous plots to capture him. (My favorite: Metallus invites him to his ship, shows him his plan, then lets him go. Later, Space Ghost just comes back and beats him up. Can you explain your thinking on this, Metallus?)

I've got to continue to find some of these for him, and for my own twisted curiosity. I'm especially curious about the Alex Toth cartoons, like Space Ghost and Herculoids. He also wrote early Green Lantern comics, which I would love to expose Viri to when he gets old enough. If he likes the style of the cartoons, he'll really like the Golden Age comic style, once he's able to appreciate it. For now, it's crazy animation and invisible monkeys! And Dino Boy wandering around Copacabana being racist!

Death Of My Camera

2009-11-13T12:13:00.000-08:00

So, my trusty Konica Dimage has passed on. It is an ex-camera. Nothing I can do will restart it, or even get the little lens-cover device to close. I have no idea why it won't work, it just locked up and won't do anything. It is no more. I'm a little more sad at this than I would be any other device that I could lose or break, because this camera has documented the entire life of Viri and Arkaedi. JoAnn and Becky bought me this camera when Viri was first born, and I have used it to take thousands of photos. Mostly I have pictures of the kids, but also friends and family, some nice natural scenery in the Northwest, and even a few of me.

Here is a link to my photo album, which will mostly stay the same for a bit until I can get a new good camera. Any recommendations?

Happy Birthday Jaime

2009-11-11T14:44:00.000-08:00

Today is Jaime's birthday. I'm using the day to shower her with love and affection. After so many years, we've run out of gifts. I was never the best gift buyer anyways; I think she'd rather have a clean house and fed children. Appropriately enough, we're spending it working and cleaning and caring for the kids. It's a little more fun, though, because we're reminded of how awesome it is to have our little family. We're also reminded of how long we've been a couple, since today is also the anniversary of when we started dating. Appropriately enough, it was the day she turned seventeen. She has been dating me half of her life, as she reminds me. (I could trade her in now for two seventeen year olds, I remind her. She isn't sure that's legal.)

I can't believe how long it's been, how many birthdays and anniversaries. It's pretty amazing though. Looking through old pictures, so many of the memories are tied into places and people and situations that have since changed; the one constant in my life is Jaime. I can even remember in perfect detail the one birthday of those seventeen years that she was in Malaysia and we weren't together. It still makes me sad. One day without her in seventeen and it gives me a little twinge of pain. It's a sweet twinge, though, because the years we've spent together remind me of how precious that time is.

I sometimes get on a little rant about relationships, and staying together. It drives my friends and acquaintances nuts, especially those who have been through divorce or serial monogamy. But there is a reason I come back to it, other than the standard "I-can-never-shut-up" reason that I go on about everything: My life works and contains joy to the extent that I have held onto the people who have meaning to me. My time with Jaime has made my life better in innumerable ways. I think many of us would benefit from making an effort to build commitment in all areas of our lives as well. This means not only staying together, but working and building and growing together. We don't try to do that, we don't compromise, hold fast, or change in the right measure. We don't do what it takes to be together, as friends and partners, and our society and world suffers for it.

I'm glad we made the effort, forgave each other mistakes, and learned to be a couple. We're both better for it.

Okay, mostly me. But maybe a little bit Jaime too.

Busyness Isn't A Word

2009-11-07T17:13:00.000-08:00

We've spent a crazy few weeks here. Between J's busy schedule, and my fairly busy schedule, and 24/7 kid stuff, I'm about to collapse. Well, I would be, if I wasn't spending my Saturday evening sitting on the recliner watching cartoons with the boy. That's a fairly relaxing end to the week, I'll admit. But overall, this is not a sustainable pace for me. I'm enjoying my work; and I even kept the house fairly under control. I cleaned the kids' room, even, which is a shock to us all.

I really wonder how people do it, week after week. I know the kids won't be 2 and 4 forever, and as they grow they get easier in some ways. But they get tougher in some ways too, and running them all over town for this and that, helping with school, and then trying to work enough to pay the bills seems as daunting to me as taking them with me everywhere does at the moment. It will possibly be harder, because at least now I get a baby girl hugging me and saying "Wuv wuv Papa!" as she toddles along. When she's embarrassed to be seen with me, will it be harder to get motivated?

I think a big reason is that I am not happy in our situation. I'm extremely happy with how awesome my family is; but being really broke and working hard, living in a city that I'm hot and cold on, and (alert Homeland Security here, Glenn Beck) a country I'm increasingly frustrated by and disappointed in, I'm losing patience with my workload. I'm working hard, and Jaime is damn near killing herself, to make bills in a place with no health care, lousy education for my kids, and the prospect of millions in student loan debt for my whole family just to get them all through college. Is it worth it?

There great things about this country. I'm not saying I'm casting any votes for Somalia or Indonesia anytime soon. But more and more I find myself fantasizing about Sweden, or Japan, or Canada. (Your national anthem rocks, Canada. Seriously. Even the name. "O Canada" is awesome. It sounds so casual. Like, Oh, yeah, Canada, by the way, we like you. Do you like us? Check a box below for yes/no/maybe. Canada is awkward in a really cute way.)

Are these places better? They seem better, when I visit. They seem calmer, more polite, more egalitarian. Is it true? I don't think I'm totally rose-colored-glasses here. Other people tell me the same thing. People a lot like me, in mindset and temperament. Which I think is the key; America has greatness, and maybe will have greatness again in the future, but it isn't me. Does that sound weird? It does, I know. But more and more it seems true. I do find that woman with a gun slightly hot though, as disturbing as it is. Maybe the problem is that it's more me than I want, and less me than I need.

Reclaiming The Term

2009-11-01T18:10:00.001-08:00

We Are Douchebags - watch more funny videos

Some terms are just... apt. That's the word. Apt.

Everyone Hail To The Pumpkin Song

2009-10-31T19:21:00.001-07:00

We had an extremely successful Halloween day at the Barker household. I got Halloween donuts, and a wonderful frittata breakfast, the kids looked super cute in the Godzilla and Godzooky costumes (aka Frog and Dragon. Don't tell them) and everyone got some candy treats. Viri learned that special and timeless holiday question, "Is this vegan?" and Arkaedi learned people give her suckers for no reason if she holds out her hand. That is sure to be valuable information.

We decided to trick or treat in Fremont, and I am really glad we did. It was a cool experience, and the local shops were really awesome to the kids. Fremont is a cool place, and I can see having a great family holiday tradition there if we stay in Seattle for a while. This is my first halloween going all out with the kids. This has always been a fun holiday for me, traditionally for the girls who dress up slutty for no reason, but I'm really seeing the appeal of the holiday as a dad. The kids get to dress up, get some treats, everyone is out and happy. At three it isn't nuts yet, but people are still dancing in the streets. It's a good time for all. And for the dads (and moms who are so inclined) there are still the slutty girl costumes.

So, Happy Halloween, have a good time. Please choose the appropriate level of sexiness for your age and location.

Dragonlance: Dragons Of Dorm Room Night

2009-10-28T20:57:00.000-07:00

I'm a huge fantasy fan. I don't read a lot of fantasy, however. I usually wait for years, letting my friends pare it down to a good series here and there, and then break down and read it all in one go. I wasn't always so cautious, however. I once read D & D novels. I recently went back and reread a series of stories of my youth. The classic "we did this awesome D & D campaign let's write it down!" story, the Dragonlance Chronicles. It was really fun to read, and I had forgotten a ton of it. It was a slightly better cribbing of the Tolkien story than I remembered, in truth. The writing is really not terribly good, but they take the basic premise of the story of Lord of the Rings and insert some fun spins. They don't flesh out any of the characters, so it really does read like a late night adventure with stoned college kids. I'm okay with that, in small doses, so I had a really fun time following along again. The story, if you don't feel like bothering wikipedia, is this: A band of adventurers come together in a world threatened by evil dragons, and find proof that the "old gods" exist. Together with help from the good dragons, they restore balance to the world. There are the typical D & D type characters. A half-elf, a warrior, his mage brother, a dwarf, a knight, and some strange hobbit rip off, a kender. Oh and there are some barbarians too. (I never got that archetype. What the hell makes a barbarian different than a warrior? He doesn't use a fork?)

They manage a few really fun scenes, fighting dragons and rescuing people. The two brothers of the story, Caramon and Raistlin, have some nice moments. I can't help but read everything the half-elf leader says in a Kirk voice. ("WE...must get them to safety... I AM... responsible!") The writing is very stilted and unnatural, but they really run with some of the story elements. My only real problem is the central theme of triumphing over the evil armies is a little undercut by the epilogue of the book, where one of the "old gods" goes on about the balance of the universe. (I put old gods in quotes because there are no new gods... another quibble I have with the writing.)

Apparently, as this old god would have us believe, good is inherently intolerant and self absorbed, so it needs evil to be around to remind it why to fight. The elves are the example, because see they are good and they became self absorbed and turned from the world. That makes perfect sense see, because... What?! Wait, not to get all philosophy 101 on you here, but isn't a basic tenet of our conception of "good" an outward focus, away from egotism and towards service and selflessness? You can't just redefine good in order to justify having bastards around! That's cheating!

But seriously, they didn't try and write a masterpiece here, just a fun Tolkien rip off. And they did that. It's pretty fun. The dwarf is Gimli 2.0, right down to some exact dialogue, and the kender is Merry or Pippin. The half-elf is Kirk, so that's odd, but you have Sturm the Aragorn, and there's a girl Legolas. (Like the movie Lord of the Rings! But I kid Orlando Bloom.) For a real intense read I'll take Tolkien, or my new modern favorite, Jim Butcher, but for silly light entertainment when you're not up for a serious read, this is perfect. Which I imagine is exactly why they wrote it. Good for them.

Now check out this truly atrocious animated version!

Thunder Thunder Thunder Thunder... Cats! Thundercats, Why?

2009-10-24T13:34:00.000-07:00

As I wrote a few weeks ago, my son has a bizarre interest in strange or awful cartoons. Recently he discovered one from my youth, Thundercats. It is way odder than I remember. Unlike the broader social messages of He-Man, Thundercats is more about a dimwitted man child, Liono, and the little lessons he learns as he grows up. This seems very strange, since he appears to be thirty, but okay, I'll accept it. Combine it with the surreal Rankin/Bass animation, some mummies and mutants, and you have a mid-eighties romp into madness.

Viri loves it. He's been drawing Thundercats, playing that he is a human/cat thing, the whole shebang. (That always weirded me out about the show-- are they can people? Why no tails? Why no fur?) There is one episode with a space-policewoman, which he is crazy about, as you would expect. Police, laser guns, and cat people? Viri heaven!

The premise of the show has always confused me. These cat people are on some strange planet. I'm not sure why they are there, or why they brought the ghost of a dead leader. How do they survive with only one woman? (That's a very Ryan question, I apologize.) Why is the man named Tygra, which is clearly a woman's name? The whole show is crazy, it doesn't surprise me that it is quickly becoming Taviri's favorite. His taste tends towards the bizarre.

Here is a fun fan trailer of a Thundercats movie.