The State of the Viv

Well. I can't believe I haven't written anything for nearly a month. Sorry about that. I have no excuses except that there's been other trifles in my life. And now, today is my birthday. I am the oldest I've ever been.

I'll confess that the past month has been a little rough on our house. Jeff's going through a job crisis and I've been presented with a lot of interesting opportunities for the future. One of them is freelancing for my old workplace, covering some of my old beat (but thankfully not everything. I don't I miss the insane hours) and another one I'll feel more comfortable discussing in the future.

When I look at the past year, I see that I've been busy doing one thing -- keeping the kid alive. The house hasn't burned down and I've been able to wrangle taking care of a child. I've been cooking more, which is great fun, writing more, which is FUCKING FABULOUS and enjoying life.

Then this past month happened and a lot of things I once knew are being shaken to the foundations. I don't feel comfortable going into all the detail. All I know is that I'll weather the storm and what happens, happens. We will survive and endure.

If anything, right now I'm thinking about the Tower Card from the Tarot deck:

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.

Admittedly, in moments like this, I'm going back to thinking about Tyler Durden and Fight Club. Even though he wasn't completely correct about everything, I know I'm going through a chaotic period when I'm thinking, "What would Tyler Durden do?"

Fall back. Let go. Flow. Rise. Destroy. Recreate. That's what he'd do.

And right now with what is going on, that's what I'm feeling right now. I know it's the right thing to do, but it's also kind of scary.

But, as my kid says, "It's kind of scary, but also fun." Truer words never spoken kiddo.

Dear Gen Con: This is not ironic. This is stupid.

Many of my friends and fellow gamers have railed on about the icon that Gen Con uses for it's non-gamer programming -- specifically called "Activities for the Better Half". I'll probably mention them at the end of this, but I wanted to get my view out on the stupidity of its icon:



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.

I'd recommend that you also go and read the official letter on Vanir's website. To say that it makes one stabby would be an understatement.

I know that this isn't 10 years ago, or even 15 years ago, when having women at the gaming table was akin to a yeti sighting. I know that we see more women at these events and even young girls at these events. But to use an icon like a ball and chain is demeaning to the non-gamers who come to these events.

I won't go into the history of the ball and chain symbol, like my friend, Katie. I'm just amazed that Gen Con would call this tongue-in-cheek. Whoever thought this was a good idea has not had to sit at gaming tables and feel like they're entering a "boys club" of sorts. Or see the constant pin-up pictures. Or the shirts that make jokes about women (I won't even go into the one man's shirt that was a print of porno actresses making the "O"-face).

It's gotten better, there's no doubt, but things like this continue to give the impression that women aren't welcome.While it's nice that Gen Con has created events for the "better half" -- several of which I would consider attending as a break from dice-slinging (and are going to attend with my husband), the icon is silly.

It's not ironic. It is a blatant dig at nongamers as killjoys. I have always railed on about the stereotype of women as supposedly more "mature" and being the ones who have to rein in the "boys" from their "silly antics." Simply because someone's interests don't always mirror their partner's or family members' does not make their opinion less valid.

Overall, I agree with my friend Alan, who calls it "bad business branding." I would be careful about that Gen Con -- studies (which these Public Relations people should have learned by now) show that women are the majority of buyers in a household -- up to 83 percent in 2008, according to Lisa Witter and Lisa Chen. Do you really think that changes when they come to Indianapolis?

Just something to think about. If you're not willing to take into consideration the opinion of many women gamers like my friend, Eva, at least think about it from the business end. We women have a strong say in where the money goes, and I don't think it's a good idea to forget that.

Some date nights are dinner and movies...

For Jeff and I, we went to see an aging punk icon rant on a state for three straight hours.

Thanks to our friend Heather (who is also the kid's favorite person in the whole wide world), Jeff and I were able to leave the house to check out Henry Rollins at the Barrymore last night. The kid got pizza, the Muppet Show and a buddy to play with. We got the Weary Traveler (Bad Breath Burger is full of WIN!), beer, discussion about Age of Conan and Rollins.

I love Henry Rollins. The man is a smart, funny, articulate person who, despite his appearance is a hippie at heart. I've always been fond of his spoken word CDs (I own a great deal of them and they're great for long drives). The guy I had one of those "it's complicated" things with before I met Jeff introduced me to Rollins and I think that was the best thing I got out of that mess.

In any case, it was awesome and inspiring. I can't talk about everything he discussed because it bounced from Constance McMillen, the 2008 election, health care, the Bad Brains, masturbation (despite a coy attempt to beat around the bush), working on Sons of Anarchy, his University of California Sonoma commencement address, judging Ru Paul's Drag Race and traveling around the world.

I think that for me, the biggest thing I always take away from these events is a sense of optimism and hope, albeit rather foul-mouthed, punk sense of hope, but it's hope. It's the idea that life should be gone at full gusto and we need to enjoy these moments. We have chances to be good people and do things right. Being a cynical bastard does nothing good. And sometimes we all need reminders of that.

If you do get the chance to see him, I suggest you do so. Make sure you have an empty bladder and are prepared to sit for hours, because you will get your money's worth.

How I became obsessed with Jaffa Cakes

A few months ago, I was introduced to the joys of a BBC show called Spaced. Made by the same geniuses who created Hot Fuzz and Shaun of the Dead, I found myself addicted to the show.

The best way I can describe it is that it tweaks a lot of the pop culture stuff I also riff on and brilliantly describes that time after college, but before the mortgage and kids. That time when I remember playing a lot of games, throwing a lot of random parties and just doing whatever I liked with the money we had.

It also helps that the music is awesome. I can't stop playing Mint Royale's From Rusholme with Love:

Or Lemon Jelly's The Staunton Lick:

But the best thing ever (WHICH I HAVE YET TO GET PROPERLY) is the A-Team dance remix:

I find it interesting that Simon Pegg has said definitely that there will never be another season of Spaced (it only ran for two seasons and 14 episodes total). I can't find the interview, but I recall him saying something on Twitter along the lines of "who would want to see 40-year-old Tim and Daisy doing the same thing over and over again?"

So like everyone else, I'm slowly moving on. A friend of mine has introduced me to a show called Outnumbered. And I think that this one may sum up the joys of life with kids and a mortgage:

I can picture myself having this conversation with my child in about a year or so.

But no matter what, I'm going to have a fond spot in my heart for Spaced. And Jaffa Cakes.

And a fun time was had by all....

Last week, I attempted something for the first time: I, along with my mother, grandmother and Benevolent Dictator, drove to see my sister in upstate New York. I was admittedly nervous since the trip would be about 14-hours in the car. I'll also be honest too in that my relationship with my mom can be volatile and the thought of being enclosed in a car with her for the majority of a day raised fantasies of me throwing myself out of the car and onto the freeway.

But the trip was great overall. The only rough portion was the drive home, and if that's the only thing that was a bummer, I'd call the trip an overall success.

It was great bonding time with my sister, which I think we both needed. Also, I spent most of my time whinging rocks at Canadian geese threatening to overtake her backyard pond. For animal lovers -- I was not aiming to hit them or hurt them (despite threats of turning them into foie gras) -- but to scare them off. Because if you don't know already, Canadian geese are assholes.

It was like I turned into a border collie -- every morning and afternoon I'd look out the window, searching for those damn hissing bastards. When I saw them, BAM! out the door, like a shot stalking over to the pond with a handful of rocks to hurl at them. Sadly, by the third day, the geese were onto us and refused to leave.

I personally like the idea of a scarecrow in the middle of the pond that would pop up via remote control to scare them. And we'd dress the scarecrow up like Lady Gaga in the Telephone video. I need to make that work somehow.

As for the kids, they had a great time together. BD had way too much fun wandering around the house playing with toys and Maddie and Elliott enjoyed all the attention lavished on them. Mali -- the youngest of the clan -- has a nasty reach, which is great for pulling your hair out by the roots and ripping glasses off your face.

I also got to enjoy the joys of pho for the first time. Asian noodle soups are the best, in my opinion. I'm also pleased that my knowledge of Sondheim got one bar trivia question correct. Also, at said bar trivia event, I met one of my sister's friends, who is a lovely woman.

All in all, it was a great trip. I'm pleased that it was fairly inexpensive overall (seriously, the cost for gas, etc was cheaper than plane tickets) and I'm glad that BD was a great sport about staying in the car for such a long time. Hopefully I can convince Jeff to repeat the experience with us, thus reducing the chances of me hurling myself out of the car.

*blows dust off the blog*

Hello all five readers! I'm still writing my little insane project, but I have some grand news. I have broken 50,000 words. In other words, I have pulled off NaNoWriMo in January, as opposed to November.

It's a very strange feeling to reach that goal (and I'm not done yet). Looking at all the other scribbles that I've done, nothing has reached this level. And I need to do more, which requires more research into crime, the Victorian underworld, smuggling and perhaps affairs of the human heart. And maybe research into a good jelly roll recipe. I'm not sure how everything will be incorporated, but the jelly roll should be pretty damn awesome.

In any case, my present to myself will be a bowler hat for reaching 50k words. If I hit 100,000 words, I'm getting myself an editor.

I just wanted to report that I'm not dead, the blog isn't dead. I'm just lost in a world of my own creation.

Writing neurosis

For the past month or so, I've been working on a little story inspired by Sherlock Holmes. It's the first time that I can recall where I haven't given up after the 20th page and wandered off to do something else like make sure my kid isn't setting stuff on fire.

If you want to see it, it's over at my LJ. Yes, I have a livejournal account. Which I used to leave comments on other people's journals. Now it's being used for literary fanfic. I haven't put it here because I feel like that's separate from my little rants about my life.

Now I have a conundrum. I am very proud of this work (Hell, at 57 pages so far written, and more to go, I feel like I deserve a cookie). I also feel like maybe, just maybe, it could be published. Friends are saying it's good. Do I keep putting it on the livejournal for free then? If I got paid that would be awesome. If it was on paper so I could love it and give it to others like how crazy evangelicals hand out pamphlets, that would be awesome.

But is it wise to publish everything on the LJ? Even if it's in rough draft form? How does one get published? I think that part of me is torn -- I like this and I'm very happy to write it just for my amusement, but I believe it could be more than just a livejournal entry. But if the whole story is published online, why would a publisher print it? Would they even take a look at it online?

I need advice, and if people are willing to offer their thoughts, that would be great. Right now I'm not sure what to do and I feel like I've just put myself into something that could be good or it could be a disaster.

And this is on top of my usual writer neurosis. And they wonder why Updike hid from the world -- some days that looks like a tempting option for me. Then the narcissist exhibitionist takes over and I write some more. So yes, advice is welcome. I could use some, since I have no idea what the hell I'm doing.

Temporary blackout

PEOPLE OF EARTH (said in the style of Kronos, King of the Monkey People -- Google it):

There is a temporary blackout on this blog. The writer has become obsessed with a story idea and needs to beat it out of her head. When she eventually drops the idea, then she will probably return to this.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME.

Monthy report: 30th month -- ATTACK OF THE BABY PENGUINS!

Dear Benevolent Dictator:

Before Christmas (so basically a couple of weeks ago), you turned 30 months old. Christmas itself was a blast -- you had fun playing with your cousins on both sides and getting all the love and attention in the world from your grandparents, aunts and uncles.

Then we had the insanity of the post-Christmas illness. Basically you and I came down with a 48 hour stomach bug. After that recovery, we quickly headed out to a waterpark/hotel, where you splashed until you were exhausted. Then there were more visits with family and friends, your father's birthday party and other crazy events.

Is it any wonder that parents are glad when the holidays are over? I'll confess I was RELIEVED to get our lives back to the usual humdrum routine. At least we all could sleep in our own beds and you could stretch out in your crib (as opposed to the Pack-n-Play, which now seems tiny for your body).

Looking back on the recent months, I have to say that I'm proud of the fact that you're learning diplomacy. You do say, "Please" and "Thank you" quite well, which does smooth some things over. I'm also impressed by your composure. During Christmas, when one of your cousins was playing with his new toy, you asked if you could play with it. He politely and nicely said he wanted to play with it right now.

Unlike other kids, who would perhaps hit him and take his toy, you walked away with some composure in your face, took two steps, saw me and then started bawling. Both of you deserve a lot of credit --he for being polite about the whole thing and you, for not smacking him and stealing his stuff. It's an important lesson to learn -- sometimes you ask nicely and you don't get what you want. It's how life is.

All this being said, I think that we now need to work on your private face. You've got a great public face -- you're like Bill Clinton. People can hardly believe that this sweet, giggly girl is the same one who pantses me when she wants something from me. Or that you've hit me. Or kicked me in the jaw while I do diaper changes. Or screamed her lungs out.

"She does what?" They ask me incredulously, as if I have accused you of punching Mother Theresa. "This sweet girl?"

Yes. You're a toddler. You're fickle, bossy and stubborn. You have to learn how to wait and share. You need to know that as your parent, I am not your whipping girl. I am your mother and I deserve respect. And right now, I can hear you laughing at that.

It's because you know I'll always be there. You can be as much of a shit as you want, and I won't leave you. My love is unconditional. But that doesn't mean that I won't like EVERYTHING you do. It's just harder now. I have to shape you to be a productive, kind and social member of society and to do that, I'm battling you and your id (which is basically all of you right now).

It's a tough battle, but if we can keep your charisma and sweetness and channel your rough behavior into something kinder, I think you will be unstoppable. And I'll continue to be your loyal minon.

Love,

Momma

You do know what your are drinking is meant for eye surgery?

On Christmas Day, my sister, her husband, Jeff and I managed to flee the house to see Sherlock Holmes. I recall some brief discussion about seeing Avatar, but that ended when I basically said:

"NO. NO PLANET OF THE BLUE CAT PEOPLE. WANT HOLMES. HOOOOOLLLLMMMEEESSS."

How can you argue with a rational, thoughtful and reasonable argument like that?

Now a little bit on my background: I love mysteries. The Westing House, From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler and other similar books always interested me. I remember reading Sherlock early as a kid and loving it (as well as the mouse version, Basil of Baker Street). I always liked how Sherlock could figure out things just by observing the small details.

Quick aside: Post-college, when I interviewed for a job selling some ad space (I WAS HUNGRY ALRIGHT?), the man interviewing me said that it was clear that I couldn't see the big picture. I argued that "the small details make up the big picture" -- a line similarly used in the movie.

But I've never been a Sherlock obsessed fan like some other people. I stopped reading Doyle's mysteries awhile ago, after I discovered more hardboiled action like Robert Parker's Spenser, Sara Paretsky's V.I. Warshawski and others. Loving mysteries is in my blood, as far as I can tell -- my father's father translated Mickey Spillane novels into Chinese. But no matter what, in my mind, Sherlock Holmes is like one of the fathers of mysteries. He taught you that the smallest clues help make the big picture more clear.

Anyways, the movie. I really enjoyed it. As a casual Sherlock fan, I liked how Sherlock's mind worked and you saw it (that's always been one frustrating thing for me about Doyle's stories -- it seems like Sherlock was doing the COOLEST stuff with Watson not around, so we would always hear about it second hand). And yes, Sherlock is a badass mofo when it comes to fighting. I remember hearing about him boxing and other ninja detective-fu. It's just that Doyle never dwelled on it, as opposed to the scientific reasoning and observations, so it never lingers in our mind.

Cleolinda put it best with this line (go check it out -- it's a very thoughtful analysis. This blog will still be here):

Usually what would happen is that some ruffian would be all like ARRGHH I HAVE A PISTOL OR MAYBE A WALKING STICK, HOW DARE YOU INTERRUPT MY CRIMES and then prim, gentlemanly Holmes would be all WAPOW! with one blow in some arcane but impressive manner, and there you were.

I liked how Robert Downey Jr. made Sherlock like a mad genius (or as I put it, RDJ was using his drug years as inspiration for some of Sherlock's antics). I liked that Watson wasn't the doddering old uncle that you often see in the movies -- like other details from Doyle, I suspect people forget that Watson was a soldier for awhile and a badass in his own right. I will also confess, I like that Watson was a bit crankier with Holmes. I sometimes wondered why Watson didn't snap at his roomie/bestest buddy for talking down to him sometimes.

And Irene Adler is a real character from canon too. Maybe not as much of as Action Girl in the books as in the movie, but she does exist (see "A Scandal in Bohemia" -- I love that she actually pulls one over the greatest detective ever. I saw it as a flaw of his -- because Sherlock doesn't see a woman as a potential equal, he missed Irene pulling one over him) and is awesome. Rachel McAdams is pretty good in the movie, but admittedly her makeup I found distracting. For some reason, she reminded me of Joan Collins in Dynasty. But that's just me.

But I understand why some people are critical of the movie. It had more action and explosions than maybe what we're used reading about or seeing on the PBS specials. But it's obvious that even with the explosions and running, fighting and shootings, there's a certain knowledge and love of Doyle's work behind it. I mean, it fits into the Sherlock universe and there are touches that show a respect for Doyle's work. Fans have pointed out Watson's limp (which I didn't remember), as well as the long, crazy-logical explanations at the end as to how everything happened (which I remember of a lot of Sherlock mysteries).

I don't want to spoil too much of the movie, but seriously, when they named the villains, the only thing missing was a dude named, "Bob Stabsyaintheback."

Also, welcome back Guy Ritchie. Did you get your spine back after your divorce from Madge? This is up there with Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels as well as Snatch. From the whole gritty look of London, to the end credits and the twangy, yet also rollicking soundtrack (I've been listening to the soundtrack for awhile now, thanks to YouTube), Sherlock Holmes was just plain, rollicking good action fun with proof of love for the source material.

So long the aughts!

Well, this is it. The end of another decade. Or as Jeff helpfully put it today, "Well, every day is the end of a decade." He's technically right, but there's something not so...EPIC about that.

It's also his birthday today, so I hope he enjoys today -- we're basically having people over for some games and gaming. It's all footloose and fancy free, so I'm hoping that it won't suck. But then again, when friends are around, things aren't terrible.

I was thinking about the difference between 10 years ago and now, and it seems like a big change. Ten years ago, Jeff and I were just married, had our first apartment and I had started my first job in journalism (and only job thus far). Who would've thought that 10 years from now, we'd have a house and a kid? Or that I'd be the aunt to six kids already? It makes sense looking back, but I think it was hard to predict if you asked me 10 years ago.

I know people get philosophical around this time of year, and honestly, I can't think of anything to say. Time has passed, life has moved, events have happened and on the whole, it's been a good time. So yeah, Happy New Year. May 2010 be if not good, at least interesting, to us all.

In defense of a "good-enough" marriage.

The New York Times magazine recently had an interesting article about a couple's trip through couples therapy and whether it was even worth it. Written by Elizabeth Weil, it chronicled her reasons for going through therapy and the issues it dredged up -- none of which are even remotely pretty.

I do suggest that people read the article -- I thought it was a fascinating view on couples therapy when people often go there looking for solutions and making things better. More profoundly for me was when she discussed at the end of the article, the idea of the "good-enough" marriage:

In psychiatry, the term “good-enough mother” describes the parent who loves her child well enough for him to grow into an emotionally healthy adult. The goal is mental health, defined as the fortitude and flexibility to live one’s own life — not happiness. This is a crucial distinction. Similarly the “good-enough marriage” is characterized by its capacity to allow spouses to keep growing, to afford them the strength and bravery required to face the world.

In the end, I settled on this vision of marriage, felt the logic of applying myself to it. Maybe the perversity we all feel in the idea of striving at marriage — the reason so few of us do it — stems from a misapprehension of the proper goal. In the early years, we take our marriages to be vehicles for wish fulfillment: we get the mate, maybe even a house, an end to loneliness, some kids. But to keep expecting our marriages to fulfill our desires — to bring us the unending happiness or passion or intimacy or stability we crave — and to measure our unions by their capacity to satisfy those longings, is naïve, even demeaning. Of course we strain against marriage; it’s a bound canvas, a yoke. Over the months Dan and I applied ourselves to our marriage, we struggled, we bridled, we jockeyed for position. Dan grew enraged at me; I pulled away from him. I learned things about myself and my relationship with Dan I had worked hard not to know. But as I watched Dan sleep — his beef-heart recipe earmarked, his power lift planned — I felt more committed than ever. I also felt our project could begin in earnest: we could demand of ourselves, and each other, the courage and patience to grow.

A disclaimer: I've talked to counselors to clear her head (as recently as BD's birth for postpartum issues), and (I will confess), dragged Jeff to one early in our relationship because while I love him, he was doing things that made me question whether he loved me (that proved beneficial overall -- I married him after all and he's still adorable). I understand the need and desire to talk to someone who's trained for this thing. I also understand the need to have an outside and neutral perspective to help mediate discussion with couples sometimes. We all need that and sometimes friends and family, while lovely sounding boards, aren't always the best people for sound advice.

"Good enough" sometimes sounds like a dirty phrase -- it's like, "It's not perfect, but it will do....I guess." But it's also an incredibly forgiving phrase. It gives you the leeway to forgive yourself and others, get up the next day and try and do better. And if you fuck up, it still will be alright. I remember reading about the idea of "good enough" parenting in a book and feeling liberated. No matter what, things will be alright, despite what the experts may say about my parenting choices.

Where was I? Oh yeah, marriage. From my perspective, after 10 years of marriage and four years of dating Jeff before he proposed, I think that the phrase "good enough" is pretty high praise. I trust him. I go to him for his counsel and we work together to attain the following goals:

1. Keep our daughter alive and happy.
2. Keep the house from burning down.

The rest is gravy.

But we haven't gone the way of becoming a hive mind. We are still separate individuals, with separate tastes. I get restless and have to go out and clear my head, but I will always return. He sometimes needs to sink himself into video games and disappear, but he always returns. We do battle, but it always feels good -- like there's been some progress made, even if it was a complaint aired.

I sometimes wonder if people define marriage by what they see with others, or what they're told it should be by others. Marriage is tricky -- basically it's what the two people involved are fine with -- it may not be perfect, but it's good enough.

And I like good enough. But I'm also admittedly a slacker.

I'm curious to hear other people's thoughts on this issue. What do you think -- is "good enough" good enough?

TALK TO THE MOOSE!

I quick saw this ad on The Bad Moms Club, which referred to a Jezebel article that called the ad a "something very Sparkle Motion/Little Miss Sunshine about it, especially at the :08 mark."

I'll let you be the judge:



Other than the fact that there is no way in hell I'm buying Gap at full price for my kid (HAVE YOU SEEN THOSE PRICES? I'M NOT BUYING $30 SWEATERS FOR A KID TO WEAR ONE YEAR), I have no objection to the ad. But I've seen the girls in my neighborhood do that same dance and I don't think that there's anything sexual about it. I've even seen my daughter do the hip shimmy because she learned it from me. It's more the idea movement and rhythm. It reminds me of all the cheerleading stuff that I'd see in junior high and high school.

And I was in high school in 1861 -- when Lincoln was elected President. You would be amazed to see how those cheerleaders rocked the moves in a full hoop skirt and bustle.

Sometimes I wonder in our vigilance to keep kids as innocent as possible, we, as adults, start seeing everything through a sexual lens. Sometimes a little booty shake is just a fun way of expressing yourself -- not the next step to pole dancing. However, I would also hope to see a bunch of little boys do the same kind of ad for the Gap. Not because I like the ads (because honestly, they make me want to stab the holidays and step dancing), but because I'd like to see some gender equality.

NaBloPoMo: Not with a bang, but a whimper

So I did it! I completed all 30 days of NaBloPoMo. This post is the last one for the month, and I have to say that it's been an interesting month overall.

I have to say that I don't feel like I accomplished anything at all. I don't feel like my creative muscles got stretched or that I feel more creative. Really, I feel like I half-assed my way through this month. It could be that I am unnaturally hard on myself, but that doesn't matter. If you don't have the results you want, you're not happy. And really, I am the person I have to live with. If it's not good enough for me, well then, I'm pissed.

Reading my friend K.'s post about her finishing NaNoWriMo, I was struck by this:

So yeah, do something pointlessly creative today, if that's your thing. Draw a cool picture, strum a little song, punch a poser in the face (oh wait, er...) Anyway, do something fun and creative. You don't have to share it. Unless you want to :)

Besides the idea of punching a poser in the face (which I'm always tempted to do), I think that her post is a reminder of all the little half-projects I have sitting around. The half-baked concepts, the cool scenes, the random characters that swim around and are written about, but then left half-finished.

I will start with a whine -- I've noticed that since I had my daughter, it's harder to write. Which is weird. I had a job that I worked 10-14 hour days sometimes and I still managed to write on this blog and come up with ideas. I noticed that with NaBloPoMo, after the Empress of the Universe went down for the night, I would often sit and stare at the screen, drooling slightly like I had lost my damn mind. No words would flow. I couldn't write about all the ideas that I had in my head.

They say that when you have a kid, some of your brain cells die. I think that there's something to that. I mean, I can't focus on writing sometimes anymore. I don't feel like I have anything to say. Or what I have to say is proto-thoughts -- they're not even at the point where I can write them down.

This isn't an announcement that this blog is shutting down. Oh hell no. I just don't think that I can do a post everyday. The fermenting time for my ideas is taking longer and requires more patience. I suppose it's because most of my brain is now occupied by this:



Seriously, the pitch that this kid sings in is enough to make you do that "Dog-In-Pain-Thanks-To-High-Pitched-Whistle". This isn't a slight against the kid in the wheelchair -- I think it's a good educational tool to point out differences and how kids shouldn't fear them. I'm just saying that the pitch the kid is singing at is PAINFUL. And it's one of my kid's favorite videos. I think she's trying to torture me.

So yeah, I can't promise that I will post everyday or that everything will be a gem, but I would say please be patient with me. I think that right now I have to learn a new way of writing that meshes with my family life and other responsibilities. I know things may change years from now, but that's YEARS. I don't think I can keep my narcissism and exhibitionism bottled up for that long.

Motherhood on film

Maybe it's because I can be overly defensive at times, but lately, when I hear the word "motherhood" in the mainstream media, I get nervous. I think it's because a lot of times, I don't feel like the true image of motherhood is portrayed in media -- or that they're trying too hard to get it right and, as a result, they overshoot the mark into "BULLSHIT" land.

So when I saw this trailer for the movie "Motherhood", I was a little nervous:



However, I was pleasantly surprised. It feels more real than a lot of other movies that feature mothers. I think it helps that it was written and directed by a mother of two children and it also features Uma Thurman -- who's a mother of two. It also features Minnie Driver, who's a mom, and Anthony Edwards, who is a father of four.

It also helps that I find the trailer pretty funny -- celebrating both the foibles, sadness and insanity that we have to deal with as parents as well as the really sweet moments that happen. Maybe that's why I like some parenting blogs like Dooce and others -- it helps because you don't feel alone (especially important as a new parent) and when you rant about something there's a ton of other people nodding their heads and going, "Yep. Been there, done that."

In an interview, I think the director says it best when she said that in movies mothers are often portrayed as patient, lovely, saints or evil she-bitches. And it's not as simple as that. It's an incredibly complicated thing. The fact that a movie is trying to capture that makes me hopeful. It's a complex thing, but if done right, it'll make a lot of people get a better understanding of how this whole parenting thing works.

Four in the morning is no time for rational thoughts.

Last night was a rough one. While Jeff headed to work for a late night computer thing, Benevolent Dictator woke up at midnight crying and I had to soothe her back to sleep (it's amazing how 17 verses of Itsy-Bitsy Spider can calm a kid down) and get her an extra blanket for bed.

She then woke up at 3:30 a.m. crying, then calmed herself down. I thought I heard Jeff's voice talking and assumed he was rocking her back to sleep. Then after she quieted down, I headed to the bathroom (because apparently now, when you get me up at night, I HAVE to pee).

I took a glance at the library, no Jeff. So I assumed he wasn't home. Then I began to wonder about what I had exactly heard.

The thoughts you have at 3:30 a.m. are not rational thoughts. I thought about all the horror stories I had read as a kid. Like the urban legend about the killer who left the note, "Dogs aren't the only things that can lick," the opening to the Graveyard Book and my personal favorite: "Can't sleep. House will eat me." So obviously I can't sleep, and I'm trying to calm myself down thinking rationally. My daughter is safe. She calmed herself down. It's time to go to sleep. Then suddenly the room seems to have gone darker.

Which sounds weird. It's night time. It's supposed to be dark, but in this modern age, with all the glowing clocks, LED lights, etc, our house is never truly pitch black. So when a light dims, the house does get a little darker. My brain, full of worry, starts to get fearful.

Then I hear the toilet flush. In a house where I think I'm the only one awake. My daughter is not toilet trained and she sleeps in a crib. Now the fear is replaced by full-blown panic.

Mustering up my courage, I wander downstairs and while I rationally know it's Jeff, I haven't seen him yet or heard him. I don't know for certain that he's home. He could still be at work. So there's no proof that he's in the house. The bathroom light is on and the door is cracked. I push the door open.

And to my husband's credit, he didn't scream when he saw his sleepy, deranged wife open the door (when he thought she was sleeping). I would've screamed.

"What are you doing up?" he asked.

It's a testament to love that he listened to my insane ramblings about the house trying to eat me, serial killers and ghosts, hugged me, told me that he had come home at 2:30 a.m. and was talking on Ventrilo on the computer (which is why I heard his voice) and was waiting for another call from work. After calming down a wife with an overactive imagination, he came up to bed and with me snuggling up against him, we both fell asleep.

So yeah, today I'm not really coherent. I'm hoping to find my will to live in the pot of coffee. I'll let you know if I do.

Yet another cop out

So I know I should write something, but it's bloody late and I am already in bed. I have no excuses, but for NaBloPoMo, I feel the need to write something. So here it is. I got up late today, had scrambled eggs and ham for brunch, played with my kid for most of the day and then played D&D tonight. Not a bad day overall.

Happy Turkey-Eating Day!

So I have a moment to breathe before the next act of THANKSGIVING: THE TURKEYING! and I figured that I'd take a moment, sit down and write out a list of everything that I'm thankful for. A lot of these things are obvious: Health, family, friends, love, etc. Some of them not so much. But it's always a reminder that no matter what, there are things to be grateful for:

Sesame Street online for giving me enough time to cook while my kid surfs the web and plays games. Jeff for being a sweet husband, with enough push to remind me that I don't rule the roost all the time. My daughter for being the shortest and funniest partner in crime I've ever had. Afternoon naps. U2 -- always U2 for inspiring me to be a better person. Green and Black's organic dark chocolate bars. Good wine. Snarkfest and forum folks like Genevieve, Kiran, Brainchild, Bookworm, Particle Person, Laurien_Kit, MollieWollie and many others who make me laugh and give me a place to go crazy with my pop culture ideas. Craig Ferguson's dancing puppets. Keidra for encouraging my insane ideas. Sid for her thoughtful discussion on race, gender and hot men. Christina for quick medical advice and NKOTB insanity. My sister and her family for being awesome (and my sister for those late night conversations that give me perspective on life). My mother, while she may drive me crazy, the woman will help me out when I ask for it. My grandmother for always being amused by my granddaughter. Funky socks. A good backrub. The Tudors (aka Ye Olde Yellye Sexe Showe). Henry Cavill for being a hot geek. My friends -- Abby, Joe, Heather, Aaron, Sarah, Erich, Jenno, Alan, Eva and many more for welcoming my daughter and doting on her. My neighbors and their kids who offer good laughs and have taught my daughter many things about playing with others. The fact that the Verona Public Library's self checkout comes with a "Pirate" language option. Spa Pedicures. Pumpkin Lattes. Sleeping in until past 9 a.m. The fact that Netflix is streaming on our Tivo. My mother-in-law for being a friend as well as a family member. My in-laws in general for being family. My nieces, Ally, Jena and Sami, for bringing that girly touch of pink when you need it. Tea parties. Mo Willems. Reginald Von Hoobie Doobie. Kevin Henkes. Lily and her purple plastic purse. Maddie, Elliott and Mali for being generally awesome. How I Met Your Mother. Twitter. Blogger. Journalists who still go out and get the story, despite the shitty pay and insane hazards. Sunny days. Hot chocolate. Threadless t-shirts. Legos. Sonic's Cherry Limeade. Popcap games. Dinosaurs. Totoro. Tea and cookies. Ninjas and Pirates. Webcomics. A quiet moment before the child wakes up from a nap.

There are many more things I am thankful for, but right now I can't remember them all. However, I would like to wish all of you a happy Thanksgiving/four-day-weekend. May your day be filled with family and fun.

On the eve of Thanksgiving

I know I should be getting a replacement pie (our friend Enich, master piemaker is ill, which makes me sad), but seriously, I'm not in the mood. I'm going to be making a turkey, stuffing, roasting potatoes, roasting veggies and cranberry sauce.

Instead, I'm watching The Guild on MSN. Hopefully I can find a pie either later tonight or tomorrow. Wish me luck folks.

Also, I cleaned off the counter. That alone earns me points. My mother-in-law told me that a clean counter and refrigerator to make cooking better. I told her I was going to break out the napalm and hand grenades.

We'll see how things go tomorrow.

Sooo.....Adam Lambert.....

WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? And I'm not talking about the sexually-charged performance, because really, I'm over that. The only way to push the envelope now is to have Britney Spears perform her songs in a burka.

I'm talking about the singing. That was crap. Caterwauling crap. Like cat being tortured on a George Foreman Grill bad.

Also, to say that you're being edgy by pushing the sexual boundaries is a crock of shit. You don't always need to use sex to prove that you're edgy. Like I said, I'd love to see Britney perform in a burka. Hell, Lady Gaga is what I'd consider to be edgy, and it's not because of sex -- it's because of her fashion sense and dance style.

And that's pretty much my thought. If you want to see the performance, check this out:



Seriously. Cat on a George Foreman Grill.