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imperfect/unbroken  Hmm. I didn't even know we had one of those, but apparently today is it. new job? Yes I can. I'm going to take it. The new position will definitely be a challenge. It isn't a step up in money from what I'm supposed to be making (we took a hefty pay cut in January), but it is a step up in title, responsibilities, and opportunities. That went well I think. I get way too nervous and worked up over interviews. I took Red trick or treating through our neighborhood with two families from his Cub Scout troop. About two blocks from home we came across a cat in a driveway. The cat was too old to be a kitten but not fully grown, had no collar and was very affectionate. It also followed us for the rest of our trick-or-treating. The kids would go up to a door and the cat would sit on the sidewalk and wait for them. It was like we had picked up a familiar. The cat followed us for the whole two blocks back to my house (we took the long way), where we broke up for the evening. Gigs tried to name the cat Pumpkin since it had a orange-ish undercoat, but I discouraged that, because we didn't need to adopt another kitty. We gave it some water, played with it for a little bit and went back inside. I had to shut myself in my room so I couldn't hear it's plaintive mewing at the door. I think the kitty glommed onto another trick-or-treating group. I hope it made it back home. Although I keep looking for it when I drive through the neighborhood. If it had stuck around, I wouldn't have been able to resist taking it in. Short version - cute cat follows the kids around trick-or-treating. Is sick and tired of being sick and tired. I'm feeling a good bit better. The black moods kind of ease their way in gently and then build to a crescendo and then pass. But it is frightening when they are at their worst. If you breakdown and no one is around, does it make a sound? No because someone might hear and interrupt the process of falling apart. When you see yourself in a crowded room Do your fingers itch, are you pistol-whipped Will you step in line or release the glitch Can you fall asleep with a panic switch I feel thin and tattered. Being on 60% pay for eight months with an uncertain job future in a wrecked job market is taking it's toll. My insurance company is still being a bunch of dipshits over a claim from last year. Having the boys gone with their mom for most of the summer isn't the vacation you might think. I'm not ready to have a son who is a senior in high school, although I know he will make me proud. The ac is out in my black suburban and this city's slogan is "Famously Hot". There's burnout at work although I think most of us are trying to manage our attitudes lest we all pull each other down. I've been at Gigs' throat for most of the summer. I've been taking Xanax off and on, debatably as needed, for anxiety. Sometimes it helps. Insomnia isn't helping. Taking the Suburban out Saturday to gas it up, I turned left to the station rather than right to self-admit. I.am.trying.to.manage.it. But I want to lose my shit, it's too exhausting holding it together. grey No matter how badly the final film sucks, and I suspect that it will suck terribly due to the Max doesn't like mommy's new boyfriend and that's why he acts out plot, it won't change the fact that the Where the Wild Things Are trailer is a thing of beauty. I'd also like to note two things. One, I'm sick of daddy issues in films, can't we come up with something different. Two, they've made movies of two of my favorite children's storybooks, Where the Wild Things Are and Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs. I still have hope for WtWTA, but CWaCoM looks like refried ass. If anyone so much as looks sideways at Cars and Trucks and Things that Go, I'm going to have to hurt somebody. It's supplemental! Primary is primary. Stupid insurance. Last night I dreamed that the Muppets were asking where Jim Henson was. No one had had the heart to tell them he was dead. I took Red to Weblos Woods Sunday and we just got back. I'm not a camping kind of person, but Scouts is what I do with Red, so I went. Even if I seriously considered throwing myself down some steps to get out of it. Gigs helped me pack. She's the camper. Gigs even offered to come out to help us set up. I declined since I'd like to keep up the idea that I can raise a tent myself. We rode out to camp Sunday morning and met up with the other three boys from Red's pack. We found out the campsite (the local Boy Scout camp) had tents already set up for the campers, which makes sense given that this could be the first camping experience some of these boys have. The tents were old style canvas things with no built in netting. So we snagged one of the Adirondacks. I should also mention that we had the best campsite available. We were closest to the Dining Hall and the showers. Red had a great time and earned four pins and some other stuff. I enjoyed myself too, much to my surprise. While it was hot as hell Sunday night and most of Monday, the humidity dropped late Monday night/early Tuesday morning and from that point on the weather was perfect. The food was good and plentiful. The other boys were generally well behaved and the people on our half of the camp site (with whom we were grouped) were easy to get along with. So I'm back and at work for half the day. Partially to get my paycheck, partially to conserve vacation hours, and mostly to keep myself from taking a nap and ruining my sleep schedule for days. Could Mark Sandford and his staff have handled his "trip" any worse than they did? I was unaware that my anniversary was also Igor Stravinsky's birthday. Thanks Google. Had I but known, I would have put at least a snippet in our reception music. Three years. I'm having recurring nightmares again. Woke up at least three times last night. Go see it. That is all. Tonight for dinner we had Creamy Chicken Chipotle Skillet. It was tasty, but when I make it again, I'm going to put some garlic and fresh ground pepper in with the chicken and onions while they are cooking. I wasn't sure how hot it would be so I removed the seeds from the chipotle peppers before chopping them up. It was just right. I am afraid of stinging insects. I don't scream and run around like a fool when I see one, it isn't that type of fear. Besides that sort of behavior will just entice the insect into aggressive behavior. But they do cause me a large amount of anxiety and I have recurring nightmares about being trapped in an enclosed area with a bee or wasp and not being able to escape. I don't wake up until I've been stung. My drive into work this morning was even more tense than usual because a fucking hornet (or something) was crawling all over the inside of my windshield for most of the trip. I'm surprised I didn't wreck the car. And the horrible little bastard is still in the Suburban. What's going on this weekend? Greyson is up at Clemson for the First Robotics:Palmetto Regional ( http://www.clemson.edu/tlt/stream/frc/ Gigs and I will be helping with the pinewood derby. I signed up to MC, no idea if that's gonna happen. Busy weekend, but the fun busy, mostly. Hmm... the mayor of Clemson is opening the ceremonies and just pulled up his right pant leg to reveal that he has a robotic right leg from the knee down. That's kind of moving. Now that we have abstinence vampires (see Twilight) we need some vegan zombies. Red's scout leader is taking Wood Badge, which is the highest level of training the leadership can undergo. The leadership training mimics the scout program, so all the leaders are divided up into dens of their own. Red's scout leader has asked me to come up with a den cheer or song for his den, the Beavers. Had to nix my first few ideas since they weren't appropriate. This is what I've come up with: First cheer and variations Turn away from the audience and chant: "Pat, pat, pat" while shaking your rear to the left three times "bam, bam bam," while shaking your rear to the right three times "We are the beavers" turn around to face the audience on this line "and we give a dam!" Admittedly that one might still be too risque so I have some variants. The movements stay the same. "Pat, pat, pat" "bam, bam bam," "We are the beavers" "and we give a ... hoot!" "Pat, pat, pat" "bam, bam bam," "We are the beavers" "and we give a ... barrier to obstruct the flow of water!" Right, don't like that one? Try this song (to the tune of Rainbow Connection): Why aren't there any songs about beavers? We're nature's engineers. Beavers are rodents, cousins to squirrels, With large hairy tails on our rears. We live in houses out in the river Made out of mud, trees, and stones. We're well protected from wolves, bears, and tigers Safe in our custom built home. I think I might have a sickness. Grey Just for today, fuck it all. There was more, but it might be taken the wrong way, so it is gone now. Just for Today Just for today, I will try to live through this day only, and not tackle my whole life problem at once. I can do something for twelve hours that would appall me if I felt that I had to keep it up for a lifetime. Just for today, I will be happy. This assumes to be true what Abraham Lincoln said, that "most folks are as happy as they make up their minds to be." Just for today, I will try to strengthen my mind. I will study. I will learn something useful. I will not be a mental loafer. I will read something that requires effort, thought and concentration. Just for today, I will adjust myself to what is, and not try to adjust everything to my own desires. I will take my "luck" as it comes, and fit myself to it. Just for today, I will exercise my soul in three ways: I will do somebody a good turn, and not get found out. I will do at least two things I don't want to--just for exercise. I will not show anyone that my feelings are hurt; they may be hurt, but today I will not show it Just for today, I will be agreeable. I will look as well as I can, dress becomingly, talk low, act courteously, criticize not one bit, not find fault with anything and not try to improve or regulate anybody except myself. Just for today, I will have a program. I may not follow it exactly, but I will have it. I will save myself from two pests: hurry and indecision. Just for today, I will have a quiet half hour all by myself, and relax. During this half hour, sometime, I will try to get a better perspective of my life. Just for today, I will be unafraid. Especially I will not be afraid to enjoy what is beautiful, and to believe that as I give to the world, so the world will give to me. -Kenneth L. Holmes Saw Watchmen this weekend with Greyson and some friends. His first R movie in a theater and there was copious sex and violence. One of the sex scenes was scored with Leonard Cohen's Halleluja. And I giggled because it seemed so inappropriate and out of place among the movie's many other excellent musical choices (keep an ear out for Everybody Wants to Rule the World in a perfect context). But going back and listening to it again and checking out the lyrics...holy shit that is one sad and sexy song. you get a little less than you expected, somehow...</i> I've gone and made myself very depressed. I had an idea. And idea for a gift for myself and my family. One day you're Daddy's little angel, The next day you're everything he wanted you to be Greyson graduates from high school next year. That's the start of my family evolving into its next incarnation and I wanted to commemorate the change with something big, something everyone would remember for the rest of their lives. And I got excited about the prospect. And it made me happy, for a few hours at least. But there's just no feasible way to make it happen. Not with my job where it is and the economy still headed down. And now I'm depressed and disappointed and I've no one to blame but myself. Got my own hopes up. I've explained it poorly, so I guess this is just word vomit on a screen. Maybe I'll feel better for getting it out. Chick-fil-a had heart shaped biscuits this morning. It was very cute. Since the kids are all gone this evening, Gigs and I went out for Valentines tonight. Had seafood from a local place we had heard good things about. Was pretty tasty. I ate entirely too much. Now I'm going to take some heavy duty meds and hope to sleep through the night for the first time this week. Don't forget: you're here forever. Anger. I am a rather angry person. Can't say anger is my favorite of the seven, but it is the one I'm most likely to commit. I took Gigs out for dessert last night after choir practice. It was a surprise. Went to an excellent local Greek restaurant where we always eat too much to have dessert. Red and I also went to the dedication of a library at a nearby Hospice. His Cub Scout den had collected a crazy amount of books as a service project. Busy day. Now I have to catch up on Lost. Meeting Gigs for lunch today (happy birthday to Gigs) and I'm running up behind her. I go through some shade and my left foot hits ice. I have just enough time to think "Shit, that's ice" before gravity teaches me a harsh lesson. I recover quickly, stand and take a bow. Nothing harmed more than pride. Number Six has finally left the village for good. Rest in peace Patrick McGoohan. I won't say this is the worst day ever, but I'd guess it is in the top 20. 40% pay cut and a pretty good possibility of no job in three months. Yeah. And we were actually getting our finances under control. I hate job hunting. Nothing else triggers my anxiety and depression quite like it. Most of my behaviors are at least defensible if not totally sane. But the job search makes me irrational. Hopefully we'll manage. Just need to figure out what career I want to go after. Programming isn't for me. New Year 364 shopping days until Christmas! Merry Christmas. The children are nestled, the stockings overflow, and the house is growing quiet. Not too much longer until I make my final round enjoying the peace and darkness and then sleep. Hope Santa is good to you all. Have yourself a merry little Christmas Let your heart be light Next year all our troubles will be out of sight Have yourself a merry little Christmas Make the yuletide gay Next year all our troubles will be miles away Once again as in olden days Happy golden days of yore Faithful friends who are dear to us Will be near to us once more Through the years, we all will be together If the fates allow Until then, we'll have to muddle through somehow So have yourself a merry little Christmas now. The original lyrics. I think I prefer these. Yesterday morning it was in the 70s. Hot as hell in the house. Almost turned the AC back on. This morning it's in the 20s. What the hell, SC? Stupid weather. I'm going to get sick for sure. Who is celebrating solstice and how? I think there must be something wrong with me, Linus. Christmas is coming but I'm not happy. I don't feel the way I'm supposed to feel. I just don't understand Christmas, I guess. I like getting presents and sending Christmas cards and decorating trees and all that, but I'm still not happy. I always end up feeling depressed. I'm led to wonder why I have friend-ed so many people who were assholes to me in high school. because I'm burnt out and don't want to see another human being for as long as I live. Ho fuckin' ho! Shopping is almost done, maybe four presents left to buy. The tree, a live one, went up yesterday. We'll start decorating it sometime today. I've started wrapping presents and writing cards. I've made two batches of Chex mix (so much better than that crap you buy on the chip aisle), two batches of spicy cheesy popcorn (ditto), and one batch of haystacks. I guess I'm in the holiday spirit or something. I still have several treats left to go. I need to double batch the mint fudge this year. A good friend's wife (who also happens to be a good friend, for that matter) says I don't give her enough. She smirked when she said that, I don't know why. I also want to make some spiced nuts and peanut butter balls. Okay, now I'm smirking. Six years ago I picked up a little mini-magazine of holiday recipes. The few I've made are so good I never bother trying any of the other ones. I have a few on my "above and beyond" list to make this year. Dunno if I'll make it that far. Yesterday, I attended a funeral for the father of a man I've gotten to know through Red's Scout pack. It was a car wreck that nearly claimed the lives of both his parents. His mother is still in the hospital, stable, but couldn't make the funeral. I didn't know the deceased, but I do know that friendly faces can be a comfort in times of sorrow. I guess Gigs and I are part of the Pack funeral brigade. Fortunately we've only had to serve twice. Two things struck me about this funeral. First, there was a buffet afterwards (an aside, Firefox spell check doesn't recognize "afterwords", how odd). Now this is the South and food and death go hand in hand. You always eat well after putting someone in the ground. I like that. It is a comforting reaffirmation for us, the living, that life goes on, so eat. It's like shaking a fist at death and cursing with you mouth full. But as we are sitting there listing to the preacher man, I'm getting more and more hungry from the smell of the food. At this point I have an epiphany: In the South, death smells like fried chicken. Now lest you think we were at some redneck hell drive through crematorium and bar-b-que pit, let me explain a little. The funeral was held at the deceased's church, which has a mixed use auditorium. The tables and buffet were set up back behind the worship area and the two were separated by some well made mobile walls. There was no grave site service because the deceased was a veteran is is to be interred at the Fort Jackson National Cemetery once it opens later this month. Until that time, he will rest at the funeral home. And that is why we went straight from the service to the dinner table. These were Baptists so the food was great. The second oddity is about the church itself. I was talking to my friend and he mentioned that the church we were in belonged to a congregation which split from the Southern Baptist Convention because they were too liberal. I will repeat, the Southern Baptists were thought to be too liberal. Too liberal. Southern Baptists. I still can't put my head around that one. Several years ago, more than I'd rather admit to, I attended a lecture in college about freedom of speech. The lecturer asked the audience for a show of hands of those who believed in freedom of speech. Most, if not all, of the audience raised their hands. The lecturer then proceeded to ask for a show of hands of who would support a list of increasingly extreme examples of speech. There were less and less hands in the air as he went on. I'd like to think I kept my hand up for the whole time, but that was a long time ago and memory fades. He then proceeded to explain how important free speech was and how free speech meant defending speech you didn't necessarily like or approve of. That lecture made an impact on me. I find Fred Phelps incomprehensibly vile and disgusting and in dire need of a punch in the mouth; however, I understand and accept that he has the same rights of speech that I do. In fact, I think it is better to allow the assholes and racists and hatemongers to spout off because then we know who they are. Their assholism, racism, and hate are on display. We don't have to wonder. And we can discount their opinions because we know their core. Neil Gaiman wrote a response to a letter questioning why one would want to defend vile speech. And I find it spot on. I am thankful for: My children, who are good kids even if I forget that sometimes. My wife, who is wonderful. My greater family, who care about me. My health, which as far as I know, is pretty good. My healthy family. My job. The way things are going, any job is good to have. My biological parents and the unexpected gift of getting to know them. My friends. Chocolate. Promises mean everything when youre little And the worlds so big I just dont understand how You can smile with all those tears in your eyes Someone has to pay, to do penance. Current mood: Self Eviscerating. |
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