Wednesday, July 07, 2010
What? It's like baiting me with race issues. Personal is political at times folks.
Anyways, the website linked me to an article from New York Magazine that described parents loving their children, but hating parenting. Titled, All Joy and No Fun, I could see it almost being used as an argument against procreating.
But I keep going back to the question, "Why have kids?" and I can't give a good answer. Because I have no idea how to articulate it. The only thing I've said is that, "I like chaos," and I got it in fucking spades when I had a baby. Now that she's a toddler, I'm tempted to give it a go again, because I like more chaos.
What bothers me about these articles (and articles that go POP THEM PUPPIES OUT NOW CHILDLESS SPINSTERS!) is that there's an implicit idea that doing one or the other brings you more happiness. And from what I've seen, happiness is a very temporal thing.
To quote Denis Leary: "Happiness comes in small doses folks. It's a cigarette butt, or a chocolate chip cookie or a five second orgasm. You come, you smoke the butt you eat the cookie you go to sleep wake up and go back to fucking work the next morning, THAT'S IT! End of fucking list!"
I can't say that I'm a happier person after having Benevolent Dictator and staying home. That would imply that I'm skating around the kitchen like some Betty Draper clone on Zoloft. I can't say I'm unhappier either, because I don't think I am. The beginning battles were hard as hell, but I'm also of the belief that if you do anything right in life, some scarring occurs.
What I can say is that I feel like overall, I made the right decision for me and that I regret nothing. I know people who don't want kids and don't have kids who will say the same thing. To each their own.
These articles bother me in a way because it sets up the idea that there is a race, or a way to maximize your happiness quotient like in the Sims, or that there's one path to happiness. And we all know that's not true. I just sometimes wish media would treat these issues with the complexity they deserve, instead of making it an "either/or" situation.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Today you turned three years old. It's been a funny day for me because I keep flashing back to when you arrived in the hospital, small enough to be carried on my forearm with long toes and ears that looked vaguely elvish. I remember your little mewling cry and just how small you were.
And now, you're a little girl -- an outgoing, chatty, smart, charming little girl who loves to draw, climb on things that she's not supposed to be climbing on, playing with her friends and the neighborhood dogs. You've got one hell of an imagination, telling me stories about when you were a little horsie.
Your current favorite show is Mythbusters. You told me once that you had Grant Imahara sleep over (apparently he was also shrunk down to about fist size) and we've had dance parties with Adam Savage and Jamie Hyneman. You also love watching Sesame Street, Ni Hao Kai Lan and Wallace and Gromit. This summer, you did tell us you hate the World Cup and would rather watch Mythbusters. However, you know how to pronounced "vuvuzela." My job at mother is complete.
The funny thing is that I saw all this in you when you were a baby. You'd make eye contact with people and smile at a very young age and you always liked checking out people's faces. I've seen the hot temper in you (even though it gets louder now and a little more extreme with the flailing) and how you calm down.
Parenting is a weird thing sometimes. It's tough and sometimes tiring as hell. I've ranted about how it feels like sometimes I'm just so tired of having to play cruise director, jailer, friend, chef and maid.
But then there's these moments that take my breath away. Like when you do pronounce "vuvuzela" or when you giggle hysterically because we're having fun. Then there was the time when you hugged me and said "You're my best friend in the whole wide world."
I never expected that one. I'm a parent. We're not friends. Parents are supposed to be the enemy. But seriously, that was proof positive that whatever I did growing up, I must've done something good.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
No card scares a Tarot reader like the Tower - or the person they're reading for if that person knows anything about Tarot cards. It is however one of the clearest cards when it comes to meaning. False structures, false institutions, false beliefs are going to come tumbling down, suddenly, violently and all at once. What's important to remember as a tarot reader is that the one you're reading for likely does not know that something is false. Not yet. To the contrary, they probably believe that their lover is being faithful, that their religious beliefs are true and right, that there are no problems in their family structure, that everything is fine at work...oh, and that they're fine. Just fine, really.
Alas, they're about to get a very rude awakening. Shaken up, torn down, blown asunder. And all a reader can really do to soften the blow is assure the Querent that it is for the best. Nothing built on a lie, on falsehoods, can remain standing for long. Better to tear it all down and rebuild on the truth. It is not going to be pleasant or painless or easy, but it will be for the best.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
What's more annoying is Gen Con's official response to Vanir's open letter to them:
Thank you all for your opinions and for calling attention to a wonderful program that Gen Con is proud to support. The process for picking the icon was not an arbitrary one; thought was put into it. It’s hard to pick one “icon” for such a diverse group of people and event types and to find one that wouldn’t be misconstrued as something else. The icon was chosen for its tongue and cheek aspect, nothing more and will remain as is for the time being.