1933-2007

My grandfather was a Titan. he was a creature out of myth and legend, and every time one of us grandkinds were in his presences, it was like being in the presence of a deity. I honestly believed, when I was four years old, that he was the one whose fleet of planes I rode on to come to California every summer to visit him, and it was he who kept the skies clear so that my parents adn I would have a safe passage. I also believed, because he told me it was true, that chocalate milk came from brown cows, but this post is not abou disillusionment.

He's gone now. He died Saturday, February 17th at 3:50 p.m. I would say that it was after a long struggle with cancer, but the struggle wasn't all that long, actually. He was diagnosed in September, went through a few months of chemotherapy and radiation treatment, found out that the cancer was going to be untreatable, and then he suffered a fairly rapid decline. The last week he was mostly unconscious, the morphine keeping him out of pain as one by one his bodily sytems failed. He didn't want to linger. He didn't want to be paralyzed once the spinal cancer broke his back. He didn't want to be a burden.

He was born into poverty in Westwood, Oklahoma, moved with the westward migration to California logging country, started his family there before beginning his own business in the bay area. He built roads. That's what he did with his life. He left a tangible path behind him, as well as three children, ten grandchildren, and seventeen (and counting) great-grandchildren. He worked too damn hard his entire life, but in the end he was a success, mostly through sheer force of will. He began in poverty but he ended his life in affluence, solely through his own efforts. He loved music. He played the guitar. He knew every song Merle Haggard ever wrote, and would perform them in his living room with his best friend, John.

He wasn't perfect. He made mistakes. Some of them huge. But he owned up to them and made them right. He found faith in the latter half of his life, but once he found it he took it seriously. His role in his church was as the head usher, which he expanded to become something like the official host and greeter to anyone who attented First Baptist church in Cottonwood.

I owe him for many things, not the least of which is, of course, my life. He paid for my first year of college. It was his love of Northern California which caused him to retire here, and then, introduced it to me, and I fell in love with it too. He provided a place for me to run to when I needed a change in my life, offering me a home and a connection to family. He helped me buy my first house.

He had a way of seeing through the world's bullshit, mostly because he was a great BS'er himself, as he was proud to tell anyone who'd listen. And then he'd prove it. He was gragrious, and loved people, and if there was anyone my grandfather had no use for, you could be assured that there wasn't much use for that person at all. You could argue with him and tease him, and give his own nature back to him and he'd love you for it, and sometimes he'd even admit when he was wrong and you had a point. In his later years, he even came to be able tyo admit when he didn't know something. The times when we were really annoyed with him, though, was whn we knew he was right and we didn't want to admit it. This happened a lot.

He loved kids. You never had to beg him to babysit, he just loved having them around. He got energy from them, enjoyed their spirit and their adoration. And they did adore him. The picture I have posted is from last halloween. Already sick, he could not resist dressing up in his Superman costume (complete with Willie Nelson hair), simply to delight my son, who had dressed as Superman himself.

When it came time for the end, the Hospice nurse told my family that he was not the kind of man who could leave with us all watching him, so we all went into the otehr part of the house after saying our goodbyes. Then, within ten minutes, my grandmother holding his hand, he left us. My grandmother told us that he squeezed her hand thre times and smiled. He'd told my mother that he was ready to go, partly because he wanted to see my brother, Jeremy again. I got the chance to tell him that I loved him and that he'd always been my hero. He told me that he was glad we'd always been "buddies" and that I was to take care of Sarah and Drew for him.

And now he is gone, and the world doesn't feel like the same place. It's as if Atlas himself is no longer holding up the world. The way he lived, though, he taught all of us to hold up the world for ourselves.

So that's what we're going to do.

Goodbye, Molly Ivins

This is not written by me, but I thought it was worth posting. While I wait for one of my heroes to pass, it's worth noting the passing of another. At one point in my life, I wanted to be this woman when I grew up.

Best-selling author and columnist Molly Ivins, the sharp-witted liberal who skewered the political establishment and referred to President Bush as “Shrub,” died Wednesday after a long battle with breast cancer. She was 62.

Molly's wisdom:

• The first rule of holes: when you’re in one, stop digging.

• What you need is sustained outrage…there’s far too much unthinking respect given to authority.

• Think of something to make the ridiculous look ridiculous.

• The thing about democracy, beloveds, is that it is not neat, orderly, or quiet. It requires a certain relish for confusion.

• Satire is traditionally the weapon of the powerless against the powerful.

• There are two kinds of humor.One kind that makes us chuckle about our foibles and our shared humanity — like what Garrison Keillor does. The other kind holds people up to public contempt and ridicule — that’s what I do. Satire is traditionally the weapon of the powerless against the powerful. I only aim at the powerful. When satire is aimed at the powerless, it is not only cruel — it’s vulgar.

• I believe that ignorance is the root of all evil. And that no one knows the truth.

• You can’t ignore politics, no matter how much you’d like to.

• It is possible to read the history of this country as one long struggle to extend the liberties established in our Constitution to everyone in America.

• What stuns me most about contemporary politics is not even that the system has been so badly corrupted by money. It is that so few people get the connection between their lives and what the bozos do in Washington and our state capitols.
Politics is not a picture on a wall or a television sitcom that you can decide you don’t much care for.

• I believe in practicing prudence at least once every two or three years.

• I still believe in Hope - mostly because there’s no such place as Fingers Crossed, Arkansas.

• One function of the income gap is that the people at the top of the heap have a hard time even seeing those at the bottom. They practically need a telescope. The pharaohs of ancient Egypt probably didn’t waste a lot of time thinking about the people who built their pyramids, either. OK, so it’s not that bad yet — but it’s getting that bad.

• It’s like, duh. Just when you thought there wasn’t a dime’s worth of difference between the two parties, the Republicans go and prove you’re wrong.

• In the real world, there are only two ways to deal with corporate misbehavior: One is through government regulation and the other is by taking them to court. What has happened over 20 years of free-market proselytizing is that we have dangerously weakened both forms of restraint, first through the craze for “deregulation” and second through endless rounds of “tort reform,” all of which have the effect of cutting off citizens’ access to the courts. By legally bribing politicians with campaign contributions, the corporations have bought themselves immunity from lawsuits on many levels.

• Any nation that can survive what we have lately in the way of government, is on the high road to permanent glory.

• I am not anti-gun. I’m pro-knife. Consider the merits of the knife. In the first place, you have to catch up with someone in order to stab him. A general substitution of knives for guns would promote physical fitness. We’d turn into a whole nation of great runners. Plus, knives don’t ricochet. And people are seldom killed while cleaning their knives.

Confluence of Events

The book is done. 217,000 words. 534 actual book pages. A year and a half of my life. And it is done.

Well, the rough draft, anyway.

And at the same time, my grandfather is, to put it bluntly, dying. He's at the end of his fight with lung, liver, and spinal cancer. He can no longer use his feet, there's a rattle in his breath, and his liver has shut down, sending toxins to his brain so that most of the time he doesn't know what's going on.

In October, when the diagnosis came down, he was a relatively robust 74, and still even had his full head of dark hair. Now he is this. It happened so fast.

He's at home. Hospice is helping my Mom take care of him. We're told he has between 2 days and 2 weeks left.

It's strange how things come together sometimes.

The AIAC Awards: TV 2006

ok, finally done. And with the only real category I am probably qualified to talk about, because I watch so damn much of it, TV! Sorry. Anyway, I had some ambitious plans for this entry, but have novel fatigue has forced me to decide just to name my top 5 shoes and call it a day. Or an entry, whatever.

Anyway, here are my top 5 shows of the years. And Jennie, I am sorry, but Jericho did not make the cut. I hope you can live with the disapointment :P

5. Ugly Betty

Yes, Ugly Betty. Seriously. And I know that I mentioned earlier it needed a new time slot in order for me to watch it, but that was before discovering the full episodes on ABC.com. Awesome! It started out as a whim, something fun to watch while I was folding laundry in the bedroom. (Yes, I fold laundry, because I am the perfect man. I cook too. sort of) and it soon became an addiction. I even forced My Name is Earl off the TiVo and consigned myself to watching the Office online to make room, so my wife and I can watch it together. I realize that loving this show means I will have to give up my Y chromosome, or at the very least promise the Guy union that I will watch an equal number of hours of the Ultimate Fighter (which is its own type of soap opera) but it's worth it. So, why do I love it so much? It is SO over the top and unrealistic, but it's characters are so funny and lovable and bitchy, and it has a heroine that you cannot help but root for. Seriously, if you're watching this show and you're not rooting for Betty, there's something wrong with you. This is the show that proves ugly is beautiful, and there's nothing wrong with that.

4. 30 Rock

I really don't have much to say about this show except that is it sick and twisted and wrong and demented as all true works of genius are. Plus, Tina Fey is every geek's ultimate dream girl, or should be.

3. Heroes.

Yes, I'm writing about Heroes, again, some more. As before, it continues to intrigue me, it shows true promise that its writers really have thought about things ahead of time, and Hiro is the ultimate geek-tastic Avenger, Peter Petrelli the quintesential self-destructive kid on the Heroes journey, and I have a thing for strippers with multiple personality disorder, espeially the kind that can rip me limb from limb. What? I'm a guy.

2. Veronica Mars.

Sun-drenched noir, starring the world's smartest college student and her awesome dad. The series moved to college this year, and the season-long mystery format became a series of linked arcs, but it remains the most brilliantly written (its a tie! see below) show on television, so of course, it's struggling in the ratings and may not see a fourth season. Which would be a shame, because there's a lot of life in these characters and this setting. Seriously, people, watch this show!

1. Battlestar Galactica

What if the world ended, but you didn't. What if you survived armageddon, summoned fourth the will to start again on a new world, only to have the destroyers come again and this time instead of breaking down your body, they broke down your soul instead. That's what happened this year on this, one of the most frak-tastic shows of all time. The new Caprica arc jumped things forward, advancing the conflict between the survivors and the cylons, drawing uncomfortable parallels between both the holocaust and the Iraq War. This is a show that does not run away from how messy life is. There's an old adage for writers: create characters people like and/or identify with, put them up a tree, and then throw rocks at them. Well, executive producer Ron Moore had some incredibly big rocks this year, but still, they keep moving, they keep running, and somehow manage to see one more day. Without losing hope, which is the most miraculous thing of all. This is another show too brilliant for its time, and rumors circulate about its cancellation, so I live in hope of two more years to complete the story. So Say We All!

The AIAC Awards: Music 2006

ok. This is probably the one topic I am the least qualified to talk about. I would just copy Phil's write-up about music on his blog and post it here (properly attributed, of course) if not for the fact that I am not cool enough to have actually heard of any of those people. So, I am just going to talk about my two favorite albums from last year, and then my favorite ten songs that I downloaded.

Because this was the year my entire approach to buying and enjoying music changed. This was the year of the ipod (yes, cue angellic music). Seriously, has there been a more important development in the music industry (industry, not art) that the proliferation of mp3 players ad legal downloading? No longer do you have to buy an entire album for the one cool song you heard. That said, there are some artists I love so much that I did download entire albums, or albums who had enough I liked I felt same buying them. For the record, here is that list: Jars of Clay, Good Monsters; Snow Patrol, Eyes Open; Jewel, Goodbye Alice in Wonderland; Indigo Girls, Despite our Differences; and Shawn Colvin, These Four Walls. There were a couple of e.p.s in there too, but I'm not counting them as full albums. For the record, I enjoyed all of these albums, there wasn't really a dud in the bunch, but two of them stood out from the rest.


Despite our Differences by The Indigo Girls.

How is it that two southern lesbians can write such truthful songs about love and God and Politics that they actual seem to be writing my inner monologue? These girls tell the truth about life, and they tell it beautifully. There is also in their music an acceptance of people, of loved ones, and even of their enemies that they can, even while they ask for what they want, understand how people are just people, and not every person is capable of truth, or love, or faithfulness, and on a basic level, that is ok. We are who we are.

You run/that's all you've ever done/that's all you know to do/I can't hold that against you
You flee/cause you're born to be free/and if you go, I'll understand/but you better get out while you can

They get political, as always. Pendulum Swinger laments the current state of things, while looking for more representation for women in positions of power in ever place in society.

What we get from you war-walk/the ticker of the nation breaking down like a bad clock/I want the pendulum to swing again/till all your mighty mandate was just spitting in the wind

Their music, unlike in past albums, notably All that We let in, avoids the morose. Nearly every track on this album has a nice drum-bass going on that moves it along. Some of the lyrics are sad, but the music is gorgeous, even on such songs as "Last Tears."

If we're a drop in the bucket/with just enough science to keep from saying "fuck it!"/Until the last drop of sun burns a sweet light/plenty of revolutions left to try to get this thing right...

I hope they're right, and I hope they're around for every one of them.

Good Monsters by Jars of Clay

All the Good Monsters open their eyes/to see the waste and where the home fires rise/and all the people shouting "why? why? why?"/do you know what you are/do you know what you are?

It us probably a surprise to no one that I am drawn to the apocalyptic imagery in this song. But more than that, it asks the question that I think is the most important. Do you know who you are? Answering that question, since we are all of us monsters in one way or another, is the first step in some of us becoming good monsters.

The song Light gives heat tempts the invocation of my "you lose it when you cue the children's choir" rule, but since the song is about Africa, and the way white christians often go in to "help" the natives with a condescending "we'll save you" attitude, and the choir in question is the African Children's Choir, it gets away with it. The song is gorgeous, and its message much needed.

Catch the rain in empty hands/save the children from their lands/wash the darkness from tehir skins/heroes from the west/we don't know you, but we know best/but this is not a test/you treat me like I'm blind/setting fires around the houses on a hill/but light gives heat/you segregate my mind/burning crosses from your fields/but light gives heat

The band, former teen wunderkinds now in their early thirties (like some other people who will remain nameless but who have blogs), write honestly about love and marriage in the songs Water under the bridge and Mirrors and Smoke.

I do not love you the way I did when we met/There are secrets and arguments we haven't finished yet/But it's only that grace has outlived our regrets/we're still here/maybe we can stay till the last drop of water flows under the bridge

There are times meant for breaking/and words to ignore/and we've bent to our souls/when our skin is at war/and if leaving were freedom/we'd both walk right out of that door/but we can stay/till the last drop of water flows under the bridge

and the years roll by/and you hold my hand/while the shdows stretch over the land ...crumble and fall in my arms and we'll struggle to hold on/ waters they rise and the carry our hopes and our dreams away, but we can stay ...

This is my album of the year, and is the best album of Jars of Clay's already long career.

and now, my top-ten songs of the year. They had to be from this year, not older songs that I discovered:

10. The Guy that says goodbye to you is out of his mind by Griffin House
you don't need to change/a thing about you, Babe/I'm telling you, from where I sit, you're one of a kind/relationships, I don't know why, they never work out/they make you cry/but the guy that says goodbye to you is out of his mind

9. Gotta have you by The Weepies
grey/quiet and tired and mean/looking at worry and seeing/tried to make you mad at me/over the phone/red/eyes and fires and signs/I'm taken by a nursery rhyme/I want to make a ray of sunshine/and never leave home/no amount of coffee, no amount of cryin'/no amount of whiskey/no amount of whine/nothing else will do/I gotta have you.

8. Good Monsters by Jars of Clay

7. Hate Me by Blue October
I've got to block out thoughts of you so I don't lose my head/they're crawling like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed/dropping little reels of tape/to remind me that I'm alone/playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home

6. Here Comes Now by Jakob Dylan
meet me out in the open sky/a perfect storm is on the rise/beyond the city moving/it is planned/something comes from a strange land/the trail of dust on the building tops/it's everything you've wanted....Here comes now/ready or not/the future comes round/much sooner than you thought/here comes now.

5. Tuff Kid by Shawn Colvin
My mama had me, but she didn't get me/I think I broke her at the age of five/My daddy hit me/but he couldn't quit me/we taught each other how to feel alive ...

4. I Believe in love by the Indigo Girls
I want to say that underneath it all you are my friend/and the way that I feel for you/I'll never fall that way again/I still believe despite our differences/what we have's enough/and I believe in you/and I believe in love.


3. Light Gives Heat by Jars of Clay


2. Hands Open by Snow Patrol

It's hard to argue when/you won't stop making sense/but my tongue just misbehaves/and keeps digging my own grave

with my hands open/and my eyes open/I just keep hoping/that your heart opens

Why would I sabotage/the best thing that I've got/well, it makes it easier/to know exactly what I want....

It's not as easy as wearing it all to be right/gotta be more than hope when it's right/I want to hear you laugh like you really mean it/collapse onto me tired with joy ...

1. Half-assed by Ani DiFranco

You start tripping/and I start slipping away/I was taught to zip it/when I got nothing nice to say/and down in the texas of my heart/driving really bug truck down a dirt road/my love is scrunching up it features/through really big eyes, big lips, big nose

show me a moment that is mine/its beauty blinding and unsurpassed/made me resent every moment that went by/and left me so downhearted 'cause I felt it so half-assed

Things I'm looking forward to in 2007

Taking a break from the AIAC awards for as minute. As in any new year, we have plans. I mean the collective we. My school. My family. The world. These are the things that are being planned that I'm actually looking forward to. I realize by posting these, I am tempting a karmic pre-emptive strike on them almost as stupidly as if I found myself in a horror movie telling the much more attractive main character how I plan to go home, marry my girl, open up that coffee/book shop I always wanted to, just as soon as we kill that fucking monster/undead slasher/alien. so be it.

The February break trip to San Antonio. Just me and Kate. no kids.(believe me, you don't want to spend any time with those two on an airplane). No real reason, we just want a fun trip, and to spend time, you know, together, as a couple, without having to break up slap-fights and referee toy/seat/blanket/TV-sharing. And don't ask "why San Antonio?" Because it's there, ok?
The rest of Season 1 of Heroes. This show has gotten seriously under my skin. Lost? What is this Lost you speak of? (Sorry, Phil.) And I demand to see Hiro and the Dinosaur now! And bring me Christopher Eccleston as the Invisible Man!

Finishing the fucking book. Yes, that is its official name now. And if I continue to meet my deadlines, and the plot doesn't balloon out of control (yes, again. does this story really need to be 500 pages? apparently) I will be done February 10th. I content myself with the knowledge that on February 10th I can just type "and then everybody died" and end it one way or the other.

Spider-Man 3! Does this one really require an explanation? Seriously ...

Continuing to design and starting the plans to build our new house. Yes, it's next to the in-laws. Yes, this frightens me. I'll cope. At least there will be goats to "accidentally" release to trim down the front lawn.

Watching my daughter go through first Communion. As a fairly recent Catholic, it's great having this opportunity to revisit some of my lessons from RCIA back in 2000. And it's great watching her learn about her faith and learn to take it seriously.

Learning about life as an American in the Netherlands from Tuppence's blogs. Of course, mitigated by the fact that we now have to find a new realtor.

Furthering my plan to turn my son into a geek! He has recently, against his mother's wishes, developed a power-rangers obsession and refuses to take off his spider-man boots, even when he sleeps. I couldn't be more proud.

Starting my next fucking novel. Because I never learn ... and this one's even bigger and more epic. Sigh ...

The AIAC Awards: Books 2006

btw, it's pronounced IKE. My wife doesn't agree, but it's my blog, so there. The IKE awards.

anyway, I wish I has read more this year, but I'm going to go ahead and put up my picks for book anyway. Most of these were published before last year, but I at least read them last year, and they were in recent release when I did, so I'm still counting it. Here goes (as if anyone cares):

3. Blue Shoes and Happiness/Espresso Tales by Alexander McCall Smith.

The latest installments in Smith's two "mystery" series, one set in Botswana, one set in Edinburgh. I say "mystery" because these might technically qualify as those, but the mysteries are not the point here. They're not even particularly mysterious. What they do so well is gently reveal the worlds of the main characters, and present characters that form a community based on a comman sense of morality. These are very life-affirming books, as much about forgiveness as they are about catching people doing wrong things, whether they are dishonest doctors, meddling advice columnists, or self-absorbed wanna-be wine connosoirs. No murders here, just people trying to do the best they can to get along.

2. Assassination Vacation by Sarah Vowell

Ok, there are some murders here. Big ones. Presidential murders. This is the most hysterical book about Presidential assassinations ever published, I feel safe in saying, even though I have not read widely in the field. Sarah Vowell, historian, blogger, This American Life contributor and the voice of Violet Parr in The Incredibles. chronicles her travels visiting various historical sites associated with the assasinations of Lincoln, McKinley, And Garfield (the president, not the cat. Don't worry, Kim, the fat orange cat is not dead. sadly). Part travelogue, part biography, part rumination on presidential history, part contemplation on the relationship between assassination and memorial sainthood, every part of it is deep and funny, a difficult combination to pull off well.

1. Perdido Street Station/The Scar by China Mieville

I could not choose between the two of these, nor would I want to. In these two books China Mieville introduces a world that is hard to define. Is it fantasy? Science fiction? Arguments can be made for either, but it is all brilliant. Brilliant and dark, not a place I would want to live, but a place I am a better person for having gotten to know. The city of New Crobuzon, where strange creatures live together and even stranger alchemies take place beyond closed doors, and mad scientists unleash their creations on the world and in the process become Gods and Devils all at once. And the city of Armada, that floats with the waves, providing haven for transformed exiles wishing to find for themselves something of a humanity that has been beaten out of them. BOth books involves a quest, the first two destroy a nest of murderous psychis moths, and the second to cross the great dead ocean and find the scar in creation, from where energies can be released that might transform the world. Both novels really defy simple descrpition(obviously) and theose The Scar takes place after Perdido Street Station and involves a character connected to the main hero, it is not a direct sequel.

And with these books, Mieville becomes an author whose work I will seek out and absorb. His writing is so good, it's a joy just to read. He has another book out set in this world, and it will probably be my favorite book I read this year as well.

The AIAC Awards: Movies 2006

Ok, back to stupid stuff. I always like to pretend I'm a critic,and have decided to institute the AIAC Awards on this blog, which I'm sure will be coveted after for years to come. So, here's the first installment of the AIAC (As If Anyone Cares) awards. First up, movies. Books, TV, and music will follow. And yes, I realize I am not actually qualified for this. But I was an English major and we're used to writing papers and pretending our opinions mean something.

I have not seem very many movies in the theatre because unless it's animated or has some type of talking animal or another we usually don't get to the movies to see them. But that hasn't stopped me from assembling my list of the best movies of 2006. I'm only choosing three this time, because choosing 5 would put an inordinate percentage of the movies I actually saw on the list.

3. Happy Feet

This one is on the list despite the fact that I actually missed the last ten minutes of it because my son was getting a little restless. It wasn't that he didn't like it. He's just ... like that. Anyway, this one received the ire of the baptists for many reasons, so I was, therefore, predisposed to like it on that basis alone. So, basically the child of Elvis and Marilyn Monroe just wants to dance. Only, he's a penguin and he's the type of penguin that mates for life by matching its song to the song of a penguin of the opposite sex, and finding their rhythms blending together. But this penguin CANNOT sing, he dances instead, so he goes on an epic quest throughout Antarctica to find himself, to win his love, and to eventually save the continent from the human oil despoilers. There's also a valuable message in here, both about environmentalism and also about how we treat people who are born differently from everyone else, including those whose differences are found in the mating process (this is the part that pissed off the Baptists. Because ... in a children's movie? How dare people preach acceptance to children! It's an outrage! Oh, come on, Baptists, I kid because I love. Actually, not really. Except for you, Jennie! And possibly Kim! And my parents! )

This movie does have, as a very mixed blessing, Robin Williams as the voice of not one, but two saucy latin penguins, and the most gorgeous animation ever produced for film. And it takes a cuddly sea otter and shows it for the vicious predator is actually it. It's preachiness does get overwhelming at times, especially in the ending, which I missed, but see this one. And no, the lead penguin is not gay. It's a metaphor.

2. Superman Returns

Yes, I finally saw it. And I wished I had seen it in the theaters because the first time i saw it was on our little computer monitor in the bedroom and with the non-visibility and the strings and the sleeping child on my lap, I must confess I went to sleep. Like, a lot. And at first I blamed the movie, but then watched it again and realized that no, it wasn't the movie. And yes, It is probably too long, and bit ponderous, and Brandon Routh is not ... quite ... right somehow, as Superman. It's not the performance, he just looks too young, I guess, but the movie really works for me. Especially as I had recently re-viewed Superman 2, which is this actually a direct sequel to. It takes those first Superman movies, so wonderfully campy, and updates them, and you get to see the tragedy of Superman having finally gotten what he wants, Lois, and having had it taken away, and taken so far away that she doesn't even remember what happened. Hence the kid, who was confusing for a lot of people.

This kid could have been the most annoying part of the movie. I was actually not a fan of this plot development when I first heard about it, but in the movie, the kid works. Mostly, I think, because it provides a reason for Lois not to just go running into Superman's arms. And the actor who played the kid was really good. I usually don't say this about kid actors, but he hit all the right notes. I still wonder how that math works out for the kid to be the age he is, but I am also good at fanwanking, so it's not that much of a problem. Kate instructs me that I am good at constructing bridges so that the massive trucks don't fall into the plot holes. It's a gift.

But it was a good Superman movie. It looks beautiful and there's a lot of emotional heft there.

1. Stranger than Fiction

The ultimate meta movie about the relationship between writers and their characters. It has Will Ferrell, which is usually an umm...no for me, but it also has Emma Thompson. And the trailer did its job of honestly showing me what kind of movie it was. (most of the audience I was with did not pay enough attention and had expected another Talledega Nights. They were annoying.) But the story of Harold Krick and the author who created him, and who is suffering writer's block because she can't find the right way to kill him off, mostly because she doesn't want to, is a hysterical metafiction detailing the relationship between art and humanity. And the performances of Ferrell and Thompson seem totally flip-flopped in their relationship to their regular filmic personas. Thompson is manic, panicked, and over the top and Ferrell is quiet and restrained. And all the characters are named after famous scientists, for some reason, which I sure was a level of commentary I was not getting. It made me feel smart to notice that. Actually, It made me feel smart to understand it when my wife pointed it out to me.

It's a sweet little romance as well, as sweet as it can get between a boring, lumpy IRS agent and a tattooed, angry-grrrl baker, but I will never look at flour in the same way again. (I mean -- who knew there was more than one kind?)

2006

It's almost over, and I have mixed feelings about it. As does the world, apparently. As I sit here typing this they are waiting to excute Saddam Hussein in Iraq, he may even be dead already, one more bit of grisly business before the world can take a deep sigh and be reborn again. Not that the number on the calendar is anything but an artificial construct really, but it is important psychologically, and if part of what makes up the world is human perception of it, then I guess that does make the calendar important after all.

This was a good year for me in many ways and a really bad one as well. It is the year I finally stopped accepting my own excuses and started kicking my own ass, which I feel good about. I got more written this year than I have in all the years I've been alive combined, so I suppose that is a victory. I also took care of myself better. I didn't lose any more weight, but I did drop another couple of pants sizes and the number on the weights I was able to lift went up. Another victory. I survived a difficult year at school and have welcomed the beginning of a new one under new management, with a principal that gives me hope that our school will be able to become a world-class school, and someone with the skill to possibly mentor me and help me become the best teacher I can possibly become. If that's what I want.

And I think therein lies my biggest problem with this year, an inability to pin down what it is I actually want. This has, to be frank, frustrated my wife and my family as it has made me very moody, very --well, it's dangerous to self-diagnose yourself as intense, but, ok -- intense, and it has driven home to me the fact that the face I present to the world is not usually the face I wear at home or with myself. In public I can seem friendly, jovial, but at home and in my personal relationships I am often quiet, morose even, seeming mad at the world. It's almost a Jeckyl and Hyde thing, my moods swings, which were supposed to balance out with my meds and with my increased fitness level, have actually gotten worse. Oh, these things help, but I think there's just a deeper issue boiling under the surface, which occasionally pops out, and I can feel it there most days, which makes me withdraw. This isn't fair to the people who love me.

Part of it is just the fact that, outside of my parents, and one or two close frinds. Well, one really (Hi Jenny!), I did not grow up with a great deal of acceptance. Everything I liked and wanted was considered weird and stupid, and I just got used to sitting there blandly, thinking my thoughts, and not telling anyone whatI was really doing. Like, writing X-men fanfic in my bedroom and drawing (really bad) covers to go along with it. Or watching TV until 3:00 in the morning because my thoughts were too unsettled to go to sleep. Planning out multi-volume novels in spiral bound notebooks, and then losing interest in them and starting new ones the next day. Creating elaborate sets and solo-game rules for the MARVEL SUPER-HEROES role playing game figures and playing campaigns by myself because there wasn't anyone to play with. These were the things I loved, the things that were always on my mind, and the things that I was always too embarrassed to admit to.

So, as an adult, I'm always thinking that the things I want or like or are on my mind must be stupid or embarrassing somehow. And maybe I'm right about that, but I married my wife and I adopted my children for a reason, and that was not to shut myself in a closet away from them. It was not to build a manequin and call it daddy and paint it to look like me while I went on with my own inner dialogue with people who are not actually there.

This came up a few months ago as we were all settling down for the night and I was doing something stupid on the internet and my wife was in the room and my daughter was and sho hopped over and wanted to know what I was doing and I got really annoyed with her and just said, "nothing, it doesn't matter" and tried to push her down off my lap. My wife just said, (and I paraphrase here) that I was just shutting everyone out as usual and she made me understand that it was ok to share myself with my kid. It was, in fact, required. And whatever I was doing--as long as I wasn't looking at something dirty or anything--was probably not going to be met with judgement. Nobody really cared if I was looking at silly comic book websites and hanging out at the NaNoWriMo forums. If that was who I was, great. She made me realize that my seven-year-old, who really was old enough to understand, didn't even know I was writing a book, that's how far away I'd pushed her. She wanted to know why I felt so little of all of them that I didn't bother to share.

And that wasn't it. It was just that I ... I guess I didn't know how. Very few people had ever not looked at what I was doing with derision, so I just got used to keeping it shut away. Clearly, that wasn't working anymore. Which led me to the realization that it actually was ok to want what I want, without qualifications. Which led me to the question, what is it I actually wanted?

I wanted to strike the word Dream from my vocabulary. I'd been living with it for too long. It was time to replace dream with work and start kicking my own ass, which I did, which accounts for the vast amount of writing work I got done in between work, family, and "service organizations."

I want to develop some career goal besides teaching. This was tough for me to admit to, but .... I really just don't like it much any more. Even with a good principal and a good environment, I';m tired of it. I'm tired, mostly, of being responsible for so many other peoples' behavior at all times. I just want to be. I don't know what this goal is going to be, I would love for it to be a writing career (thus the kicking of the ass) but I do know I need to come to some clarity soon. I just don't feel like, personality-wise, I'm much cut out for it. Call it burn-out or whatever. And I DO NOT want to go into administration. I break out in hives just thinking about that.

My wife and I set our next goal, which is building a house on property next to her parents', which will be a multi-stage, fiscally complicated, process. And I feel good about that but also a little scared too. We also decided we haven't traveled nearly as much as we would have liked to and want to do more traveling while we're young, hopefully international, since neither one of us even has a passport. I feel like I need this experience as a writer, and I need it with her. We do not plan to take the children, at least not yet, and anyone who knows my kids will know why we're waiting until they're older. I love them, but sometimes ... oy. I have no idea how this goal fits in with the house plan.

Since my birthday is in January, I can say that 2006 was the year I was 33. Jesus' age, which felt signifigant somehow, and probably caused me to do a lot of crucifying of myself. I didn't screw up as much as I have in some other years, but I wasn't perfect either. I have a feeling 34 is going to be more of the same, I just hope to have a better handle on it next time.

God, that was depressing. I promise to try to be funny next time. Still not used to this whole Blogging-as-therapy thing.

The 6 Assholes of Christmas

To the idiot standing outside wal-mart, right next to the "No smoking withing twenty feet of store entrance" sign, smoking a cheap, smelly cigarrette, blowing it at the Salvation Army bell ringer, who was too polite to grab the cigarrette and jam it in his eyesocket ... congratulations, you're a Christmas Asshole!

To the redneck guy in the black-smoking truck who stopped in the Raley's parking lot for the specific purpose of getting the attention of the cold husky dog in the back of someone's else's truck, just to honk at it and scare the bejeezus out of it, then cackle out the window with his friend and peel away with a cloud of smoke and rubber debris spewing out behind him ... congratulations, you're a Christmas Asshole!

To the woman at the outlet mall who wanted my parking place as I was putting my kids inside my Blazer, who apparently decided I was taking too long and decided to hurry me up by honking at me ... Congratulations, you're a Christmas Asshole!

To the gang of teenagers in the mall, standing in the exact middle of the way, oblivious to what was going on around them, glaring at people and giggling profanities at the children who passed by to show everyone how "cool" they were ... congratulations, you're all Christmas Assholes!

To my neighbor, who's complaining that the Christmas Lights across the street look "too mexican" ... congratulations, you're a Christmas Asshole!

And, ok, to the grinch taking the time on Christmas Eve morning to think about this list, type it up, and post it on the web for all the world to see, thus taking advantage of what are probably basically decent people (well, in most cases) just giving in to the holiday stress .... congratulations, you're a Christmas Asshole!

Let's salute all of our Christmas Assholes. May they choke on some fruitcake and die this glorious holiday season. Well, most of them, anyway ...

The Christmas Curmudgeon (warning: depressing content)

I've never liked Christmas. There. I said it. I just ... from the time I was a little child, the "magic of the holiday season" has escaped me. It's not that I don't get the meaning of Christmas, or that I don't believe in it. I do. The entire incarnation-death-resurrection cycle that makes up the core of my faith is meaningful and important to me. And it's not because I had my faith "educated out of me" as my family was always afraid would happen. I mean, yes, I know that the entire Christmas holiday was just a way for early Christians to co-opt the Roman Saturnalia festival. This is not what makes me ambivalent about Christmas. My favorite holiday is Easter and I totally geek out about that, even though I know if was just a way for early christians to co-opt the pagan rites of spring, only with a lot less sex. (well, a little less, anyway .... I still want to know why that bunny lays eggs.)

I am annoyed by Christmas in the way everyone is. As a TV geek, I resent the yearly "special holiday episode" most shows take (although the "How I met your Mother" one recently was the way to get it right). I can't stand any holiday song written in the last 100 year. I'm looking at you, Rudolph, Jingle Bell Rock, Rocking around the christmas tree, and I think there is a special circle of hell reserved for the writers and popularizers of "Grown up Christmas List" and especially, "The Christmas Shoes." I hate how everything gets so busy and there's so much social pressure around this time. I have never sent out Christmas cards and only decorated the outside of my house once. Don't ask.

And before you say anything, yes I do like getting presents. Always have. And yes, I realize this makes me a hypocrite.

This recently came to a head when I was putting up the christmas tree this year. My children were helping me string the lights, actually behaving themselves. Jewel's christmas cd was on the stereo (shut up!) and my wife was on the couch watching what was going on providing helpful instruction. And I was thinking, "this is a greeting card moment. this is when I should be happy" but I just wasn't, and I was trying to figure out why that was, and why it has always been that way for me. And then I had one of those stunning moments of realization that we have from time to time, the kind where you wonder why you haven't had it before. Some people need alcohol to get there, I only needed Jewel (shut up!).

ok, stop reading now if you just want this to be the geeky-silly blog and not the serious one, because what follows is in no way funny, but may help explain why I am who I am today. I firmly believe that our personalities start to form when we are little, and the things that happen to us then resonate out and affect who we become as adults. I don't think anyone will disagree with that. And when I was two years old, almost three, I lost my little brother. He died (I think) ten days before christmas. Now, I remember him, but I don't remember the specific occasion of his death or how I found out about it. I remember not going to his funeral, for some reason, and I have very specific memories of him when he was alive. But I think that sadness marked me in some way, and got itself forever associated with this season. I didn't share this with anyone, but I've been thinking about it ever since, and its taken me a while to process, but I think it explains why, exactly I just feel so unbearably sad this time each year, and I usually don't start to feel better until January when my birthday rolls around, and while Easter, with its promise of redemption and rebirth and its sense of relief from a cycle of unbearable grief has always been my preferred holiday.

So I hope that this realization will help me have a better christmas next year, as I think i still need this one to process. So, is this a new christmas beginning for me? We'll see. It may just be further proof that I need therapy.

Random TV Geekness

Ok, they got me. After some initial reticence about the show, I am now a full on Heroes geek! This will probably come as a surprise to no one.

At first, I thought the show was a little plodding and self important. This tone changed with the second episode. I heard this was because they brought in a new show-runner who wanted to lighten the tone. Whatever they did, it worked. Of course, OF COURSE, this coincided with the arrival of Greg Grunberg, who was the best character on Alias for many years, the only one who could convincingly crack a joke while saving Sydney Bristow's life. All we need now is for Kevin Weisman to appear as the techno geek who helps Micah Sanders learn about his powers, and were all set.

Even Hayden Panetierre stopped anoying me, with her stoic "bitch-goddess" face and over coiffed hair. And Bad Glasses Man? The one we all though was evil at first? Well, he may be the most awesome adoptive father of all time. I wish I had some shadowy quasi-governmental agency to help me protect my kids. Go, bad glasses dad!

ahem ... anyway, if you're not watching Heroes now, the previous episodes are being re-run on SciFi and NBC to get you ready for the show to return in January, and are available for streaming online. Oh, and you can get them on itunes too. Yes, I realize I have become a TV Missionary now, but we all knew it was going to happen someday. Any show that includes both a serial killer and an apocalypse will do that to me.

My other TV Geektastic moments so far this season:

The New Caprica Arc on Battlestar Galactica. WIth the fleet evacuated to avoid being killed by the invading Cylons, the civillian population is left on the planet they unwisely decided to settle and are living under Cylon domination for six months. Brutal, brutal stuff, but brilliant. The resistance forms, even utilizing suicide bombers, sacrifices are made, Starbuck is kidnapped and subjected to a Persephone-like internment, which includes making her a mother and then making her scared of losing the child, The Pres and the terrorist bond while waiting to be killed by firing squad, and then, Galactica, which can't live with having left so many behind, literally drops OUT OF THE FUCKING SKY and shows everyone, absolutely everyone, who's in charge. The people return to their home in exile, but have lost 10,000 of their own. Not exactly heartwarming, but brilliant.

The Slap Bet episode of How I Met Your Mother may be the funniest single episode of a sitcome I have ever seen. From the process of slab bets themselves, to the revelation of Robin's dark secret, I was laughing so hard my son came over to the couch to make sure I was all right. Let's just say I volunteer to be Slap Bet commisioner.

The Aitu Four on Survivor: Cook Islands. Rejected and betrayed by everyone, the four left on the Aitu tribe, facing defeat and eventual pagonging from the double-in-numbers Raro tribe, bind together and proceed to KICK ASS! They win every challenge, then Yul, genius as he is, uses the power of the immunity idol to bring the weaselly outcast, who also does all the work and can actually think intelligently about strategy, back over to their side and kick out the RARO assholes, starting with the jive-talking moron and culminating in the sanctimonious Candice, who had betrayed them in the first place. Brilliant, brilliant play for once (i hope you're watching this, Terry) and for once, the good guys win. Of course, from previews, it looks like it all falls apart next week, but for now, good on you Aitu. Thank you for saving this show.

Studio 60 continues to rock for me. Though some character choices have been odd. I appreciate the irony, but is it realistic that Harriett, who's supposed to be this brilliant comedienne, can't tell a joke to save her life. But I still like the show. It's funny and sweet in the right places, and yes, I want to be Matt Albie when I grow up.

Jericho, let' be honest, sucks. But for some reason I can't stop watching. It must be the whole apocalypse obsession.

Oh, and for your homework assignment, Watch Veronica Mars! It's the best show on television right now. Ok, well, it's at least in the top five. The Serial-rapist storyline that started out the season came together so well that I almost slapped myself for not guessing the truth. And the piz-dance? Yikes? My favorite line came from Mac. Paraphrased: I can't go to the Frat party because all the glitter came off my porn-star top. They won't let me in! But don't worry about her, she substituted nicely with an "ask me about my STD" t-shirt.

The Truth, She is a Bitch

Recently, it seems the theme of my life has been "Facing Unpleasant truths." Here are some things that I've learned:

I am not as smart as I like to think I am. I am not even as smart as other people think I am. ON most days, I am not even the smartest person in my own house (this will come as no surprise to anyone who knows my wife). Yes, this includes days when it's just me and the bunny and the cat. I may be smarter than the fish, since they accidentally ate the little sucker fish that was cleaning up after them. I stress the word may.

Despite the persistent fantasy I have of competing, If I actually were a contestant on The Amazing Race, I would get so hopelessly lost that Phil Kheoghan would not even be able to find me to Philiminate me. This would probably happen on the way to the airport. During the first leg, when I was still in the U.S. and could actually read the road signs.

In spite everything I may say to the contrary, I am a person who needs order and cleanliness around me in order to function. However, because of various issues (thanks a bunch, brain chemistry!) I am incapable of creating or maintaining it for myself. This keeps me in a constant state of freaked out.

Yes, I know I am too old to watch Anime and read comic books. No, I am not going to stop.

The cute barista girl at Starbucks? The one I always think is flirting with me (yes, i flash the ring, honey)? The one who told me I look "like the guy on CSI" who I choose to believe is Eric Szmada and not William Peterson? Yeah, she just wants a good tip. The guy who works the window on alternate days? Same thing.

My personal style, the one I like to think of as a fusion of earthy-crunchy and alternative hipster? It's really just whatever's on clearance at Old Navy and a couple of t-shirts from Hot Topic. And hair gel. Lots and lots of hair gel, because i have thick, straight hair and it will do NOTHING else.

That is all. I go to cry now.

not. dead. yet. (think I'll go for a stroll!)

I am posting only to assure you I am still alive. It is november, which means it is NanoWriMo and I am doing basically nothing but writing and working. 50,000 words in one month, which means about 1600 every day. I don't know if I'll make the full 50, but should get close. The book may actually be done this year, if I keep on it, which is great because I would love to start developing the next one. I am such a masochist!

Also, go see Stranger than Fiction! It may actually be my second favorite movie of all time! (of course, nothing will ever beat Serenity.)

That is all.

Stuff and Nonsense

I have several more substantial posts coming, but for now I wanted to get something posted. So, inspired by Kim, I decided just to talk about things that are going well right now, so ... here are 5 things that are making me happy today.

1. Soon, I will be unstoppable!

Ok, so, maybe not, but the other day I ran an entire mile while the treadmill fluctuated between a 5% and 10% incline, and I actually did not die. For someone who's always been so unathletic, it felt pretty good. And my flat mile (well, I usually run at 1%) is way under ten minutes. I think it's at something like 8 minutes now. For someone who started doing this stuff 2 years ago and weighed 200 pounds, I feel pretty good. I also, will probably not die of a heart attack at age 40, which was a distinct possibility, giving my own personal and family cardiac issues. Yeah for not dying!

2. Eating the Elephant

They say you can eat an elephant one bite at a time, and I have kept taking the bites. I've made all deadlines in September and October, and next month is NanoWriMo, with the goal of writing 50,000 words in the month, which may take me really close to the end. Yes, it is still trying to kill me, but I probably deserve it. I actually sent an excerpt to my best friend, Jennie-Fred (who, yes, is an even more important thing about Indiana I miss than the leaves. sorry.) and her response was, "this is well-written, but what the hell?" which was perfect! I will be really glad when it's done.

3. Go Pirates!

Actually, she's not a pirate anymore, but VERONICA MARS IS STILL ON THE AIR! Tuesdays at 9:00 on the CW. Just doing my part, Rob Thomas. This is my favorite show right now, and it's been on the brink of cancellation every single year, but it's still going. Imagine a young, female Philip Marlowe starring in sun-drenched California Noir crime stories. It's just about perfect in every way. But ignore the CW's advertising campaign. They don't get the show, and they make it look lame.

4. Now is the season of ... something

It continues to be fall. The weather, though it has warmed up in the last few days, remains cool. I love the way it's just cold enough to really need a coat in the morning, but it is sunny enough for short sleeves in the afternoon. I'm actually really looking forward to the rainy season this year, but I'll take this for now. It's good hiking weather (as if I have time to go hiking).

5. But what if it is Baroque? Should I fix it then?

I recently found the last two books of Neal Stephenson's Baroque Cycle on remainder stacks. So, two hardcovers for $10. Yes! Now all I have to do is find the time to read them. Maybe when the book is done.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (but not Betty)

My favorite season is here! Fall! No, it's not the leaves. We don't really get the whole autumnal leaves thing in the same way the midwest does, and which is the only thing I miss about Indiana. Of course, there, the colors are a harbinger of the blinding-white winter, so I can live with the trade. No. The fall TV season, because I, of course, am an overly obsessed TV dork.

This year, however, I am not watching as many new shows as before. Because last year, armed with DirecTiVo, I over-sampled, and tried to love shows not worthy of it (I'm looking at you, Supernatural) and ended up canceling many, many, season passes. So, this year, I was more selective. So, what did I try?

Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, Heroes (of course!), Jericho ... and is that really it? Wow!

So, how did they rank?

Unabashed love for Studio 60. I love the Matt Albie character, and I usually loathe the portrayal of writers on TV. I love that he makes fun of christians while is simultaneously in tortured love with one of them. I love that they've included a sympathetic christian character who acts like a person of faith while also being smart, talented, and funny. She's not a cliche, which is incredibly refreshing. They really need to make the actual skits from their fictional show be funnier, but that is my only complaint. My favorite part? The giant red-lettered l.e.d. countdown clock of deadline doom that hangs in Matt's office. I so need one of those!

As for Heroes ... well, I watched the first episode, and I have the rest waiting. I like it. I'm intrigued, but the first episode took itself so god-damned seriously. I know its going for an Unbreakable Vibe, but there can be moments when characters crack a smile. I'm hoping the addition of Greg Grunberg to the cast helps it out, because so far ... i guess it just needs to develop. Need to work on the cringe-worthy dialogue as well.

"What did you do at school today?"
"I walked through fire... and I didn't get burned."
"wow, honey, that's deep"

Gack!

Jericho, I'm still finding oddly compelling despite the fact that many of the characters act like idiots, and the people who I'm supposed to find sympathetic, I don't. The kids are smart. They should run the town. I'm with Strega, from Television Without Pity, who is hoping for an army of zombies ... it could happpen.

My biggest problem with the show, is that the main actress, set up to be the love interest, is the most annoying character. She's bratty where she's supposed to be tragic, stupid where she's supposed to be kick-ass. She's clearly going to be who OUR HERO (who is still a cipher, but that's a separate issue which may ending up being part of the point so I'll give it to them for now) is going to end up with, but I'm really hoping he hooks up with the plucky teacher who knows her way around engines. The main girl? I hope she drinks some fallout and has all her skin bubble and peel off before accidentally blowing herself up trying to light a kerosene stove. Could happen! It's a Lana Lang problem from Smallville. You're supposed to love her because she's PRETTY! but she's actually a twit.

later I may post about returning shows I still love (WATCH VERONICA MARS!!!!!!!!), and the ones I dumped (Smallville!) And we kind of wanted to try Ugly Betty, but couldn't because Thursdays at 8:00 are full, with Survivor: Race War and the Earl/Office combo, so sorry, America Ferrera. We love you, but you need to move.

The Unbearable Blogness of Being

I've been gone a while. Sorry. Not gone, as in sent to rehab or some sort of mental rehabilitation center (although, after the last entry, I can see why you might think that), just busy, with work and writing and family and other stuff too boring to mention. Plus, the new TV season has started, so OF COURSE that must become a priority. (Watch Veronica Mars! Especially if you have a Neilson Box!) But here are 3 random things that I offer for your edification.

1. In Memorium.

Phoebe died today. Phoebe was my old ibook, and she was named Phoebe because she was white like the moon. (no, she was not named after Lisa Kudrow.) This was a catastrophe beyond comprehension, made only slightly better by the fact that I had, strangely for me, had the foresight to back up all of my important files on the school server last week. There were only two important files not there, and these I was able to rescue, by performing CPR on her until I was able to transfer them onto a flashdrive. But she is gone.

And she's seriously gone too. The screen flashed and she started vibrating and making weird noises, and then the screen scrolled for no apparent reason and then the entire computer went still. All the scene was missing was smoke and demonic laughter. I might poke the corpse a bit and see what other files I can salvage, but I really don't think there's much hope of a resurrection.

If anyone's interested (Phil, I'm looking at you) I'm having a memorial service tomorrow in my classroom about 11:00. Bring tissue. I'm also going to need someone to sing "My Heart Will Go On."

2. Tell me you don't have a driver's license. Or Vote.

I have not been following The Lost Experience over the summer, but have heard from people who have, and who pointed me to the YouTube video that revealed the secret of the numbers and of Alvar Hanso. Pretty cool stuff, actually, I was happy that actually paid off in an interesting way. Of course, it invoked the apocalypse, so I was immediately in (see also: Jericho).

What's scarier? The dorks on the message boards saying "Hey, this isnt real? whaaaaa?" Someone actually posted like three pages proving that it was all a hoax, including links to the imdb pages for the actors playing Persephone/Rachel Blake, Mittelwork, and Alvar Hanso. They were outraged, OUTRAGED I SAY! to discover that it wasn't real. Umm ... dudes ... tie in to a TV show, k? step back from the edge. And put away the car keys, because obviously ... yeah. (No, I don't think xnickerx was one of them. she's had other things going on, what with making cream of wheat profile picks. don't ask.)

3. What would Warren (Ellis) Do?

I met every deadline I set myself in September for the book. Yes, I fucking rock, thank you very much. I wrote a Chapter every 10 days, and each chapter is between 6000 and 10,000 words. Hopefully, the book will be done soon. In September I hit 100,000 words, and yestderday, I hit 300 manuscript pages (trust me, you don't need to know the details of the conversion). So, I'm feeling pretty good about that, and about carving out the time to work every day at 5:00 a.m. Not only do I rock, I am also tired and grumpy. But we all must sacrifice, right honey?

I'm happy with the book so far, even if it has tried to kill me on several occasions, and I think it really did kill Phoebe (am now working on Hera, my wife's laptop, who I think likes me better anyway) and I have come to the unfortunate knowledge that the theme of this book seems to be turning out to be, "You know, everyone really would be better off if you'd just kill yourself."

I am not hoping for inclusion in our school library. For several reasons.

What do the chickens know?

Weird stuff has been happening lately. I'm not really sure how to explain it, maybe it's always been happening and I'm just noticing it now. I will share a couple of incidences with you and let you be the judge.

The last several times I have visited my in-laws, we've had to stop the car because there were, I shit you not, chickens crossing the road. Yes, chickens. The first time, I just looked at my wife and we both chuckled a little and she said, "well, are you going to ask them?" The Red Tornado, who is seven, didn't understand why it was funny, so we explained it to her and now, every time it happens, she starts yelling, "It's the joke! Look, it's the joke!" His dudeness just gets excited because, hey, chickens! And for the record, no, I have not asked them yet, for the simple reason that I am afraid that if I ask them, they will tell me. Who needs that kind of responsibility?

One thing many people don'tt know about me is that I am obsessed with the end of the world (ok, nobody report me to the school district now, PHIL) and the main reason for this is that when I was a young teenager I began to dream about it. I do not know why, maybe it was the apocalypticc Baptist sect preaching about the END TIMES! Gah! That I grew up in (for a detailed explication of this philosophy, see the Left Behind books), or the fact that I grew up in the tail end of the Mutually Assured Destruction Era, but I have dreamed about the end of the world for a long time. Not necessarily about Nuclear war, but about endings, madness, etc. It's infused my writing, even, to the point that there's s an apocalyptic bent to it, which is probably something worth examining someday. In therapy, but whatever. But after an absence of about ten years, the dreams are back, and they are weird. Everything just shutting down. Storms. Disease. Weird, helmeted, super-villain-esque armies in orange jumpsuits and black motorcycle helmets. You know, weird. I know the psychologists are saying this is happening a lot because of 9/11 and the whole terrorist thing, but still. It makes every day seem a little surreal.

And it makes me wonder, what do the chickens know? Maybe I should listen to their cackling as they move across the road, maybe it's a song "So long and thanks for all the seed."

And perhaps the weirdest thing, which is apocalyptic in its own way: my wife called me at school the other day and said that she had to bring the kids by right at three because she had to take her grandmother to the doctor because , and here is a sentence I never thought I'd be typing, in any context, she'd sat on a needle and now couldn't find it, so had to go and get her butt x-rayed. Yes. And then, when she'd had her butt x-rayed and they'd reported, "hey, no needle!" she made them do it again because she wanted to make sure They'd compensated for her fake hip. I'm just going to leave that one as it is, because really, what more could I say?

I am, however, reasonably sure the chickens had nothing to do with that one. Reasonably sure ...

All Your Brains are Belong to Us!

Well, it's here, and surprisingly, it does not suck. I know that may seem like damning with faint praise, but seriously. Being back at school does not suck. I have good classed, a good schedule, only one subject to teach now. I'm looking at my friend phil whos is teaching english AND history AND leadership AND drama AND nuclear physics AND sex ed AND beach volleyball AND the bible as history AND working as the campus computer tech and i feel very lucky. As i should, he will probably tell me.

His Dudeness and the Red Tornado have started school as well, and HD has not even done me the favor of crying, just a little bit, when i drop him off in the morning. It's like, seeya ... why are you still here? and I go off morosely to the car while he attacks a dog pile of four year olds with wood blocks and dinosaurs.

So far, i'm ok, even if I was suffering with post-migraine syndrome today and was stumbling around like a drunk person. My students, of course, have already come to view me with that mix of bemusement and fear that it usually takes them months to develop. The job that eats your life has started up again, and i guess I'm glad. But I'll be even more glad at the end of the month, when the cash drops into the bank account.

You're On Notice!

go to the url on the corner of the pic to generate your own list. Kim, Phil, XNICKERX, I Challenge you!