Tuesday, April 10, 2007
The Bullet?
It's there. It's bothering me. Thankfully, I've been able to pull myself off the Ibuprofen today. I'll take a little before bed, but it's nice to see my body begin to heal itself.
In the City
Finally got access in the city. It's been a grand visit so far, and Banana wants to know when we're going to move here.
Oy.
Tough question to answer, isn't it? I'd move back here in a second, if it wasn't for all the transitions we've been through--not to mention the difficulty finding a job that would pay for us to be back here, and the need to be near Banana's mom for the time-being. Still, it's an idea that keeps lurking in the back of my mind. And when we hop off the subway and I order a bagel and when I watch Anna get savvier about the city, it gets harder to deny...
.....................
Wait. The weirdest part of coming back to the city is feeling like I've never really left. Somehow, some part of me has been attached here for the last seven years.
Strange, these parts of growing up.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Random Quote
"He doesn't explode, because he's not a volcano."
Banana, answering me when I was telling her why we needed to take Reilly for a walk.
Banana, answering me when I was telling her why we needed to take Reilly for a walk.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
borat (or bore-at)
Why did this movie strike me as utterly un-funny?
As satire, it struck me as ham-handed--too obvious and not subtle enough. the segments that caused the most controversy were the best, of course. Asses making public asses of themselves are a sadly humorous commentary on our society. Nearly everything that relied on Borat himself fell entirely flat for me, however. The schtick is cute, but it's not enough to bear the weight of the movie.
As satire, it struck me as ham-handed--too obvious and not subtle enough. the segments that caused the most controversy were the best, of course. Asses making public asses of themselves are a sadly humorous commentary on our society. Nearly everything that relied on Borat himself fell entirely flat for me, however. The schtick is cute, but it's not enough to bear the weight of the movie.
day-to-day
"Not bad for a guy with a bullet in his shoulder." Yes, I've taken to answering questions that way. It catches people off-guard, but honestly I don't know what the hell else to say.
What happened is proving to be life-changing in subtle and surprising ways. For instance, even a trip to the dentist with Anna has a new significance. Sitting in a meeting today to discuss a project I had pushed two years ago now has more gravity--each timeline punctuated with the sense that something could change. The mundane matters of life matter more, and the "significant" concerns of bureaucracies matter less.
What happened is proving to be life-changing in subtle and surprising ways. For instance, even a trip to the dentist with Anna has a new significance. Sitting in a meeting today to discuss a project I had pushed two years ago now has more gravity--each timeline punctuated with the sense that something could change. The mundane matters of life matter more, and the "significant" concerns of bureaucracies matter less.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
calibers
I'm still trying to puzzle through the details of what happened.
Today, I measured the holes the bullets made in the screens. Since the guy was less than 25 feet away, and since it was a big gun, I am confident that the holes are probably a pretty accurate measure for the caliber of gun. Anyway, the holes both measure .437". A little research on Wikipedia confirmed that this is nearly the exact diameter of a .44 caliber round.
I got lucky. Really lucky.
Today, I measured the holes the bullets made in the screens. Since the guy was less than 25 feet away, and since it was a big gun, I am confident that the holes are probably a pretty accurate measure for the caliber of gun. Anyway, the holes both measure .437". A little research on Wikipedia confirmed that this is nearly the exact diameter of a .44 caliber round.
I got lucky. Really lucky.
Promises
I promised Banana this New York trip over Christmas. We've been talking about it and looking forward to it for three months now. Before I got shot, I had made plans and had to shift them. After the shooting, I canceled altogether until I got word that I could travel. Now that I have that confirmation, I'm trying to put the trip back together. It's one promise I am determined to keep, especially now.
Unfortunately, it also looks like I may have to do a little more winging it as far as the Broadway show part of the promise goes. The Lion King performances that will work are all entirely sold out. I'm not sure I really want to hazard an evening showing. So, either there is at least one more angel out there, or I have to punt and get tickets for Beauty and the Beast instead.
Unfortunately, it also looks like I may have to do a little more winging it as far as the Broadway show part of the promise goes. The Lion King performances that will work are all entirely sold out. I'm not sure I really want to hazard an evening showing. So, either there is at least one more angel out there, or I have to punt and get tickets for Beauty and the Beast instead.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
dealing, pt. 1
Suffered a flash of agoraphobia today. I was in a music store, and it hit me that there were just too many people around. I started to go into a bit of tunnel vision and felt light-headed.
Later, this evening, I began to have waves of anxiety about what happened--about what could have happened and, at an even more basic level, just the fact that I was shot. That simple, unchangeable fact is enough to haunt me right now. Whoever thought a basic two-by-four would be a life-saver?
Later, this evening, I began to have waves of anxiety about what happened--about what could have happened and, at an even more basic level, just the fact that I was shot. That simple, unchangeable fact is enough to haunt me right now. Whoever thought a basic two-by-four would be a life-saver?
Thursday, March 29, 2007
life or death
I posted this at MySpace, but it can't hurt to post here too. I will add as things change...
I am now a certified hero, at least that's what everybody from neighbors to coworkers to the news to hospital workers are saying. I guess that's true, considering what could have happened.
For now, these are the facts: On Sunday night, two men followed my neighbor as she drove in off the alley. My friend Phil and I were on the porch, watching her park her car. When the men started demanding her bag and pulled a gun, I started yelling at them to leave her alone. The man holding the gun turned and fired two shots. One hit the side of the house and one went through a two-by-four and hit me. The bullet penetrated my shoulder, narrowly missing my arteries, throat, esophagus and lungs. It stopped in the muscles under my clavicle and will remain there until the doctors feel it is extractable. Anna did not wake up, though her bedroom is a matter of feet away. She didn't even wake up as the firemen arrived from the fire station around the corner, and the paramedics and police began swarming the entry to our house. I was taken to the trauma unit under full lights and sirens because the EMTs feared where the bullet might travel and whether the shock my body had gone into would cause cardiac arrest. After I was stabilized and the wound was determined not to be life-threatening, I was admitted to the hospital.
For the next day and a half, more tests were done and X-Rays and CT scans taken. On Tuesday, I was released, and for the last two days, Anna and I have laid low with another family to avoid the media attention and recoup a bit. I also wanted to wait until at least one of the suspects was in police custody--news I received this morning. We are back home now, and I am confronting major questions about what we do next--whether we stay in this house any longer--and how much I need to rely on the kindness of friends and family to manage the big and little tasks of life--you never realize how tiring things like dishes and laundry can be until small repetitive tasks cause pain.
As for the hero question, I will leave it alone for now. My neighbor Lindee is alive and safe. I am injured but extraordinarily lucky for what could have happened. My daughter remains the light of my life. One foot in front of the other...
I am now a certified hero, at least that's what everybody from neighbors to coworkers to the news to hospital workers are saying. I guess that's true, considering what could have happened.
For now, these are the facts: On Sunday night, two men followed my neighbor as she drove in off the alley. My friend Phil and I were on the porch, watching her park her car. When the men started demanding her bag and pulled a gun, I started yelling at them to leave her alone. The man holding the gun turned and fired two shots. One hit the side of the house and one went through a two-by-four and hit me. The bullet penetrated my shoulder, narrowly missing my arteries, throat, esophagus and lungs. It stopped in the muscles under my clavicle and will remain there until the doctors feel it is extractable. Anna did not wake up, though her bedroom is a matter of feet away. She didn't even wake up as the firemen arrived from the fire station around the corner, and the paramedics and police began swarming the entry to our house. I was taken to the trauma unit under full lights and sirens because the EMTs feared where the bullet might travel and whether the shock my body had gone into would cause cardiac arrest. After I was stabilized and the wound was determined not to be life-threatening, I was admitted to the hospital.
For the next day and a half, more tests were done and X-Rays and CT scans taken. On Tuesday, I was released, and for the last two days, Anna and I have laid low with another family to avoid the media attention and recoup a bit. I also wanted to wait until at least one of the suspects was in police custody--news I received this morning. We are back home now, and I am confronting major questions about what we do next--whether we stay in this house any longer--and how much I need to rely on the kindness of friends and family to manage the big and little tasks of life--you never realize how tiring things like dishes and laundry can be until small repetitive tasks cause pain.
As for the hero question, I will leave it alone for now. My neighbor Lindee is alive and safe. I am injured but extraordinarily lucky for what could have happened. My daughter remains the light of my life. One foot in front of the other...
Monday, March 12, 2007
fits and starts
That pretty much describes how often I work on or update this blog. And it pretty much describes life in general right now.
Banana and I are cruising the weeks and the new custody arrangement with fewer and fewer hiccups. Mornings go easier most days, and she seems to be genuinely happy most of the time. I wish I could say the same for myself.
The emotional triage I have to do on a regular basis gets a little tiresome, but it's necessary. When you lose your partner--especially a partner you willingly brought back into your life--it seems like the days just stretch out and all you're doing is surviving. But then there's the matter of having the partner on the edges of your life--hearing reports of friends who run into her, having her try to edge back in in small ways, even just having to explain to people what the shape of your life really is. It's exhausting in spiritual and physical ways.
One of the worst parts, however, is having no real release for all of the feelings that roil about. Drinking is a lousy approach--and one that I've used too often. Finding small releases like trips or hikes are good, but they don't really accumulate the peace of mind that I miss.The real release I want some days is the chance to scream at the ex, to spill on her all the vitriol I'm feeling, to take her apart for what she's done to Banana and me, to rip into her about what all of my friends really think of her, to scream in a soul-cleansing tirade. But, even if there were a chance to do this, it would probably do more harm than good. After all the victim of any of this fall out would be Banana.
It's all a matter of time and babysteps, I suppose. Just like learning to keep the house in good order, and my bank accounts in good order; just like learning to take proactive steps to build a better life as a single dad; just like that, it's a matter of doing the emotional and practical triage to get past the worst of the feelings. After all, as I told a friend this morning after we dropped our kids off, at least I'm finally learning to accept that she had a breakdown and that it wasn't about me. He laughed. "We all knew that," he said, "and if you didn't figure it out, we would have told you."
Banana and I are cruising the weeks and the new custody arrangement with fewer and fewer hiccups. Mornings go easier most days, and she seems to be genuinely happy most of the time. I wish I could say the same for myself.
The emotional triage I have to do on a regular basis gets a little tiresome, but it's necessary. When you lose your partner--especially a partner you willingly brought back into your life--it seems like the days just stretch out and all you're doing is surviving. But then there's the matter of having the partner on the edges of your life--hearing reports of friends who run into her, having her try to edge back in in small ways, even just having to explain to people what the shape of your life really is. It's exhausting in spiritual and physical ways.
One of the worst parts, however, is having no real release for all of the feelings that roil about. Drinking is a lousy approach--and one that I've used too often. Finding small releases like trips or hikes are good, but they don't really accumulate the peace of mind that I miss.The real release I want some days is the chance to scream at the ex, to spill on her all the vitriol I'm feeling, to take her apart for what she's done to Banana and me, to rip into her about what all of my friends really think of her, to scream in a soul-cleansing tirade. But, even if there were a chance to do this, it would probably do more harm than good. After all the victim of any of this fall out would be Banana.
It's all a matter of time and babysteps, I suppose. Just like learning to keep the house in good order, and my bank accounts in good order; just like learning to take proactive steps to build a better life as a single dad; just like that, it's a matter of doing the emotional and practical triage to get past the worst of the feelings. After all, as I told a friend this morning after we dropped our kids off, at least I'm finally learning to accept that she had a breakdown and that it wasn't about me. He laughed. "We all knew that," he said, "and if you didn't figure it out, we would have told you."
Friday, January 12, 2007
community parenting, pt 1
Random moments are the best.
Banana and I headed to one of our usual joints for dinner after work. I was fried and had exhausted most of the dinner options at home. The grocery store was a proposition I didn't want to mess with, not to mention the dishes that still needed to be finished. (These are the occasional joys of single parenting.)
At said restaurant, a hip sushi joint near our house, we ran into our closest parent-and-kid friends. As it turned out, they were waiting for another family of mutual friends. Suddenly, the night had a whole different shape, and in the end, we were five parents and five kids. The kids had a great time. The parents all had a good time until Parent D decided her five year-old had had enough. Her husband (Parent E) stayed with the other two kids. In general, the dynamic functioned like this: we all watched all of the kids; we all managed difficulties and policed each other's kids; there were no boundaries.
This is what community is meant to be. This is what Hillary Clinton meant when she wrote It Takes a Village. We are not just responsible for ourselves. We are responsible for our community. The end result is in how the kids deal with the world. When Kid 2 fell, I picked her up, and she clung to me until she was ready to get back to play. When Banana was being a little contentious, other parents corrected her. That's how it should work. Kids need a world that both loves them and holds them in check--and that isn't just the two people most responsible for rearing them.
As a single dad, I am realizing that I have to accept this more than most. Oy.
Banana and I headed to one of our usual joints for dinner after work. I was fried and had exhausted most of the dinner options at home. The grocery store was a proposition I didn't want to mess with, not to mention the dishes that still needed to be finished. (These are the occasional joys of single parenting.)
At said restaurant, a hip sushi joint near our house, we ran into our closest parent-and-kid friends. As it turned out, they were waiting for another family of mutual friends. Suddenly, the night had a whole different shape, and in the end, we were five parents and five kids. The kids had a great time. The parents all had a good time until Parent D decided her five year-old had had enough. Her husband (Parent E) stayed with the other two kids. In general, the dynamic functioned like this: we all watched all of the kids; we all managed difficulties and policed each other's kids; there were no boundaries.
This is what community is meant to be. This is what Hillary Clinton meant when she wrote It Takes a Village. We are not just responsible for ourselves. We are responsible for our community. The end result is in how the kids deal with the world. When Kid 2 fell, I picked her up, and she clung to me until she was ready to get back to play. When Banana was being a little contentious, other parents corrected her. That's how it should work. Kids need a world that both loves them and holds them in check--and that isn't just the two people most responsible for rearing them.
As a single dad, I am realizing that I have to accept this more than most. Oy.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
ethics and politics -- silliness
According to Nancy Pelosi, Iraq is the greatest moral and ethical issue facing the American people today. The greatest...
I have to agree that Iraq is an important moral and ethical issue, but it is unequivocally not the most important. No. There are too many moral and ethical issues be-deviling us as a society. Certainly Al Gore is right when he describes global warming as the most important moral and ethical issue facing us. Certainly those who look at the health care debacle in this country as the most important moral and ethical issue facing us have a point. Do I need to go any further?
Any of these issues affect our future and our children's future greatly. Shouldn't our greatest moral and ethical obligation be trying to leave a better world for our children? Neither more wars, nor bigger cars, nor richer HMOs will achieve this. It's beyond sad.
Sigh... another idealist fades into the night.
I have to agree that Iraq is an important moral and ethical issue, but it is unequivocally not the most important. No. There are too many moral and ethical issues be-deviling us as a society. Certainly Al Gore is right when he describes global warming as the most important moral and ethical issue facing us. Certainly those who look at the health care debacle in this country as the most important moral and ethical issue facing us have a point. Do I need to go any further?
Any of these issues affect our future and our children's future greatly. Shouldn't our greatest moral and ethical obligation be trying to leave a better world for our children? Neither more wars, nor bigger cars, nor richer HMOs will achieve this. It's beyond sad.
Sigh... another idealist fades into the night.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
wilco
Okay, back to more interesting matters...
Anyone who is around me lately knows that Wilco is almost certainly my favorite band. I practically worship the ground Tweedy walks on--the first Loose Fur album was a deep and wonderful soundtrack through some very tough times. Anyway, a good friend (thanks, Berkley!) gave me the Wilco book for Christmas. Funny thing about it: the more I read, the more I like them. Their low-fi approach to creating really remarkable music matches with my aesthetics in some powerful ways--for instance, insisting on using an old Royal manual for type effects rather than finding a font that almost approximates the look.
Anyone who is around me lately knows that Wilco is almost certainly my favorite band. I practically worship the ground Tweedy walks on--the first Loose Fur album was a deep and wonderful soundtrack through some very tough times. Anyway, a good friend (thanks, Berkley!) gave me the Wilco book for Christmas. Funny thing about it: the more I read, the more I like them. Their low-fi approach to creating really remarkable music matches with my aesthetics in some powerful ways--for instance, insisting on using an old Royal manual for type effects rather than finding a font that almost approximates the look.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Saddam's Executed
This will be brief. I am very curious to hear the rationale behind the bum's rush to execute Mr. Hussein as quickly as they possibly could. No question that he was a bad man, but what political motive is there behind making this happen weeks earlier than they'd originally said? Why this Friday-before-a-long-weekend surprise? Is it a smokescreen?
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Too much music
Sonic Youth is one of those bands I love, but I own none of their work. There's no good reason they've never landed in my CD collection. Now, though, I wonder why I would even bother. I still love the music, but they've got so many albums, I have no idea where I'd even start.
What an irritating dilemma for someone who loves music as much as I do.
What an irritating dilemma for someone who loves music as much as I do.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
MySpace is the devil
There's really nothing more to say. The whole web of MySpace sucks you in, and it becomes like Tetris. You have to check it. You have to check your friends profiles. You have to surf for new people, and then in the end, it's all just a waste of time--precious time.
Why is so much of our life spent trying to find new ways to waste time?
Why is so much of our life spent trying to find new ways to waste time?
Thursday, November 30, 2006
The pink will win. All hail the pink.
Daddytypes nailed the fears many of us have about color branding. When the princess was getting ready to come out, we let family and friends know that we didn't want everything to be girl-specific. We didn't want to raise a Disney Princess from the bassinet on, all swathed in pinks and bows.
Though we got a few outfits that came with those absurd little headbands, we never put one on her. When she was old enough to choose her favorite things to wear--somewhere between ten months and a year--the favorites were unisex Patagonia pieces we had picked up on sale at the outdoors store in Fayetteville. Other favorites were unisex-tending-toward-girly pieces from Zaetano. Then, as Daddytypes found out, somewhere between 18 and 30 months it all changed.
By two and a half, she was a girl. She wanted nothing but dresses and skirts. Pink and purple were suddenly, and vocally, her favorite colors. Barbie entered her life, soon followed by the first of her Disney princesses. I fought it for a while, until I resigned myself to the fact that there was no way out. The pink-hegemony branding machine is simply too strong, unless the child lives in a complete bubble--never goes to school, never sees TV or a movie.
Then again, I've also begun to think about genetic predispositions. The boys at the playground inevitably seem drawn to gun play and rough-housing. The girls inevitably seem drawn to comparing shoes and playing in social groups.
It just begs the question: do we (and society/business) begin the preferences or is there a built-in preference?
Though we got a few outfits that came with those absurd little headbands, we never put one on her. When she was old enough to choose her favorite things to wear--somewhere between ten months and a year--the favorites were unisex Patagonia pieces we had picked up on sale at the outdoors store in Fayetteville. Other favorites were unisex-tending-toward-girly pieces from Zaetano. Then, as Daddytypes found out, somewhere between 18 and 30 months it all changed.
By two and a half, she was a girl. She wanted nothing but dresses and skirts. Pink and purple were suddenly, and vocally, her favorite colors. Barbie entered her life, soon followed by the first of her Disney princesses. I fought it for a while, until I resigned myself to the fact that there was no way out. The pink-hegemony branding machine is simply too strong, unless the child lives in a complete bubble--never goes to school, never sees TV or a movie.
Then again, I've also begun to think about genetic predispositions. The boys at the playground inevitably seem drawn to gun play and rough-housing. The girls inevitably seem drawn to comparing shoes and playing in social groups.
It just begs the question: do we (and society/business) begin the preferences or is there a built-in preference?
A Dog's Life
This is Reilly:
He's a hell of a dog. He is also a neurotic mess lately.
At least once a week I have to clean up an "accident." It always happens on a day he hasn't gotten enough attention or when the princess is around, and sometimes overnight. It is also always in the same general place--near the princess's art table.
He has also taken to digging into the trash and strewing it about the bathroom. This sort of thing hasn't happened since I adopted him seven years ago. Then, he made trails of trash through my little house until I started locking the trash away.
Granted, there have been a huge number of transitions in our lives lately. My wife came back, and then left again. A cat came and left. The princess started school. My work schedule got busier. It's a lot for a person to process, let alone a dog. I keep wondering whether there is any solution short of hiring someone to take him out during the day. Maybe I should just go back to advertising, get a job at one of the agencies where everyone brings their dogs in. A dad can dream...
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Ack, management!
After two-plus years, I am finally facing the conflict between being the creative director and a middle manager at a state university. It is, to say the least, not a comfortable position.
We have developed a culture in my office that has nothing to do with clock-punching. We are around during standard business hours, and we get an incredible amount of really good work done. Our designs are among the best I've ever worked on; our web development will set new standards for the kind of university we are. And despite all of this, I face occasional pressure about making sure we are in the office when we are supposed to be. From an administrative standpoint, I guess I understand the problem--the bean-counters worry that we might be abusing our latitude.
And here's where the culture clash really comes in for me. I have yet to know a good, dedicated creative who blew things off. If you get into this business, you do so because you give a shit about details and you get off on producing good work on deadline. It's just a part of our character. We go the extra mile in part because creative work rarely happens only between the hours of eight and four. Oh, and most people in this business do what we do because we like it.
So where does this leave us? I like where I am right now, and I like my team. I'm not looking for another job, and I don't want them to either. The trick will be continuing to navigate an institutional culture that is at odds with the design culture we have developed in the office.
We have developed a culture in my office that has nothing to do with clock-punching. We are around during standard business hours, and we get an incredible amount of really good work done. Our designs are among the best I've ever worked on; our web development will set new standards for the kind of university we are. And despite all of this, I face occasional pressure about making sure we are in the office when we are supposed to be. From an administrative standpoint, I guess I understand the problem--the bean-counters worry that we might be abusing our latitude.
And here's where the culture clash really comes in for me. I have yet to know a good, dedicated creative who blew things off. If you get into this business, you do so because you give a shit about details and you get off on producing good work on deadline. It's just a part of our character. We go the extra mile in part because creative work rarely happens only between the hours of eight and four. Oh, and most people in this business do what we do because we like it.
So where does this leave us? I like where I am right now, and I like my team. I'm not looking for another job, and I don't want them to either. The trick will be continuing to navigate an institutional culture that is at odds with the design culture we have developed in the office.
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