My wife is an artist. A really good one.
She sold a set of nesting dolls on the internet last week, and she just completed them yesterday. The boys and I took a look at them, and then we reported to the living room to tell her how awesome they were.
My 15-year-old leaned over to me and, playfully, whispered so that everyone in the room could hear, "Hey, your wife is a really great artist." He leaned over to his mom and loudly whispered, "Hey, you're a really great artist." I leaned over to him and loudly whispered, "Hey, your mom is a really great artist." He leaned in to me and loudly whispered, "I know." In the middle of this playfulness sits my wife, smiling hugely, rightfully proud of her work and warmed by the adulation of her family.
That was a good thought I had just now.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Gun.
Yesterday I had a desire to buy a gun.
I'm a pretty big pacifist-- Gandhi is a rather large influence in my life-- so recognizing the desire to own a handgun was a pretty big shock.
I guess I'm still feeling like buying a gun. If they were any cheaper than they are, I might actually get one. And there are two children in my home. There are so many reasons not to own a gun. And yet...
I found myself feeling like the world was coming to a head-- where people were unwilling to accept that there were other people on the planet, other points of view, other ways of looking at something. And when you apply pressure to an environment that will not flex or accommodate or adjust to changing conditions-- even to ACKNOWLEDGE that other conditions might exist-- it makes for a volatile situation. And I imagined the streets filled with mob-mentality crazies, eagerly shooting anyone they could and eating their flesh. Looting their houses. Then shooting more people. And then raping them, and shooting them again. And my boys' father (reportedly) has a small arsenal of semi-auto and full-auto guns, and that man is crazy. Like dangerous-crazy. And he's not alone in this state. Everyone here has a gun and they're more than eager to use it on anybody. My state legislature passed a law making it LEGAL for licensed concealed gun owners to carry their firearms on college campuses. I live in a place that desperately wants to return to the days of the Wild West, where it's ok to shoot people in the streets. I live in a place filled with dangerous, fundamentalist, gun-owning psychopaths. Gun owners want to kill.
So here I am imagining my family being attacked by crazies with guns. And I suddenly became really protective. And I felt stupid. If I'm able to see into this possible future, why would I not protect my family as best I can against this threat. If I do nothing, when the crazies gun us down it will be because I didn't want to protect us enough. I did nothing because I wanted to stubbornly stick to my beliefs that people can talk about their feelings, and that will be enough to resolve any conflict. But I don't really believe that. I believe when you get a whole bunch of rednecks who don't believe there are any correct thoughts other than their own, and they are ready and willing to kill people, I don't think they would slow down even for a second if I tried to reason with them. They have no reason.
There was a part of me that hoped this desire would go away with time.
It was only yesterday that I wanted to buy a gun.
It's today and the feeling isn't gone.
In fact, I went so far as to ask my gun-loving 15-year-old his personal opinion about the gun that I have in mind to buy: a Glock 19C.
Accepting that I'm a pacifist as he has, his face crinkled with worry as he asked me why I wanted to know, but then said it didn't really matter why, and told me that the Glock 19 was generally considered a good gun: reliable, durable, accurate, easy to handle, and 9mm guns are often thought to be overall better than .45 caliber guns, as a .45 can be unwieldy and tough to shoot and hold, whereas a 9mm has almost as much stopping power as the .45 without the size, bulk, weight and recoil. I could see the concern on his face when I asked, so I didn't pursue the conversation at all after he finished talking and we both let it drop.
That look on my boy's face is another reason not to get a gun.
And yet...
I'm a pretty big pacifist-- Gandhi is a rather large influence in my life-- so recognizing the desire to own a handgun was a pretty big shock.
I guess I'm still feeling like buying a gun. If they were any cheaper than they are, I might actually get one. And there are two children in my home. There are so many reasons not to own a gun. And yet...
I found myself feeling like the world was coming to a head-- where people were unwilling to accept that there were other people on the planet, other points of view, other ways of looking at something. And when you apply pressure to an environment that will not flex or accommodate or adjust to changing conditions-- even to ACKNOWLEDGE that other conditions might exist-- it makes for a volatile situation. And I imagined the streets filled with mob-mentality crazies, eagerly shooting anyone they could and eating their flesh. Looting their houses. Then shooting more people. And then raping them, and shooting them again. And my boys' father (reportedly) has a small arsenal of semi-auto and full-auto guns, and that man is crazy. Like dangerous-crazy. And he's not alone in this state. Everyone here has a gun and they're more than eager to use it on anybody. My state legislature passed a law making it LEGAL for licensed concealed gun owners to carry their firearms on college campuses. I live in a place that desperately wants to return to the days of the Wild West, where it's ok to shoot people in the streets. I live in a place filled with dangerous, fundamentalist, gun-owning psychopaths. Gun owners want to kill.
So here I am imagining my family being attacked by crazies with guns. And I suddenly became really protective. And I felt stupid. If I'm able to see into this possible future, why would I not protect my family as best I can against this threat. If I do nothing, when the crazies gun us down it will be because I didn't want to protect us enough. I did nothing because I wanted to stubbornly stick to my beliefs that people can talk about their feelings, and that will be enough to resolve any conflict. But I don't really believe that. I believe when you get a whole bunch of rednecks who don't believe there are any correct thoughts other than their own, and they are ready and willing to kill people, I don't think they would slow down even for a second if I tried to reason with them. They have no reason.
There was a part of me that hoped this desire would go away with time.
It was only yesterday that I wanted to buy a gun.
It's today and the feeling isn't gone.
In fact, I went so far as to ask my gun-loving 15-year-old his personal opinion about the gun that I have in mind to buy: a Glock 19C.
Accepting that I'm a pacifist as he has, his face crinkled with worry as he asked me why I wanted to know, but then said it didn't really matter why, and told me that the Glock 19 was generally considered a good gun: reliable, durable, accurate, easy to handle, and 9mm guns are often thought to be overall better than .45 caliber guns, as a .45 can be unwieldy and tough to shoot and hold, whereas a 9mm has almost as much stopping power as the .45 without the size, bulk, weight and recoil. I could see the concern on his face when I asked, so I didn't pursue the conversation at all after he finished talking and we both let it drop.
That look on my boy's face is another reason not to get a gun.
And yet...
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Cigarettes Quiet The Retardo-Noise
I suddenly had a really strong desire to smoke a cigarette.
I haven't had a cigarette in over 6 years. I quit cold turkey and haven't had any serious problems staying smoke-free. Often I will remember smoking. I'll even go through the motions of miming smoking a cigarette. But when I start to think about it, I start to remember the negatives, primarily that the last several cigarettes I smoked didn't taste good at all. That was the big turn off for me-- they used to taste great, and when I actually decided to quit, they started tasting like shit.
My strong desire isn't a craving. It's not anything I'm really worried about. But when those moments arise in my life-- the moments where I think that I want a cigarette-- it makes me pause to wonder what it is that has made me want a cigarette.
I wonder what it is that is making me want to smoke today?
Maybe it's all the stupid people in my state that I'm dealing with on a daily basis. Or maybe it's my inability to focus on the non-stupid people that get drowned out by the constant Drone Of Stupid emanating from the mouths and minds of the Retarded Masses I teach and work with every day.
Maybe it has nothing to do with any of that.
Maybe, as my wife loves to say, it's because I'm tired.
...I'm going with the Stupid People Theory...
I haven't had a cigarette in over 6 years. I quit cold turkey and haven't had any serious problems staying smoke-free. Often I will remember smoking. I'll even go through the motions of miming smoking a cigarette. But when I start to think about it, I start to remember the negatives, primarily that the last several cigarettes I smoked didn't taste good at all. That was the big turn off for me-- they used to taste great, and when I actually decided to quit, they started tasting like shit.
My strong desire isn't a craving. It's not anything I'm really worried about. But when those moments arise in my life-- the moments where I think that I want a cigarette-- it makes me pause to wonder what it is that has made me want a cigarette.
I wonder what it is that is making me want to smoke today?
Maybe it's all the stupid people in my state that I'm dealing with on a daily basis. Or maybe it's my inability to focus on the non-stupid people that get drowned out by the constant Drone Of Stupid emanating from the mouths and minds of the Retarded Masses I teach and work with every day.
Maybe it has nothing to do with any of that.
Maybe, as my wife loves to say, it's because I'm tired.
...I'm going with the Stupid People Theory...
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
"Game Over, Man! Game Over!"
I teach acting classes to adults. I encourage them to contact me outside of class with any questions they have. I tell them I have a Facebook page, and they can contact me through that site if they would like.
The more I friend my students on Facebook, the more I realize I'm teaching a group of people who love to shoot guns and use the term "Obamacare" without embarrassment.
It's sorta like joining a social club, only to find out later that you've become a member of the KKK. And what's even more awkward, you're black. And you're getting paid by them.
I now know what the landing party from Aliens was feeling when their motion sensors told them that they had been completely surrounded by creatures and were about to die.
The more I friend my students on Facebook, the more I realize I'm teaching a group of people who love to shoot guns and use the term "Obamacare" without embarrassment.
It's sorta like joining a social club, only to find out later that you've become a member of the KKK. And what's even more awkward, you're black. And you're getting paid by them.
I now know what the landing party from Aliens was feeling when their motion sensors told them that they had been completely surrounded by creatures and were about to die.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
I Want To Help You vs. I Want To Hurt You
I might be missing something, but if I want to help somebody, it's different from saying I want to hurt somebody else.
For example, if I say that I would like to see everyone in America have affordable health care, I'm not saying that I want to take away health care from those who already have it. Or that I want those who are providing health care to suffer or go without payment so that others can have affordable health care. They're two completely different thoughts.
Which leads me to this thought--
"I don't want you to free the slaves! If you do that, then who will harvest my cotton?!"
Seems to me, the only time you're going to be offended or threatened by helping another human is if you've enslaved that other human and you know you shouldn't.
For example, if I say that I would like to see everyone in America have affordable health care, I'm not saying that I want to take away health care from those who already have it. Or that I want those who are providing health care to suffer or go without payment so that others can have affordable health care. They're two completely different thoughts.
Which leads me to this thought--
"I don't want you to free the slaves! If you do that, then who will harvest my cotton?!"
Seems to me, the only time you're going to be offended or threatened by helping another human is if you've enslaved that other human and you know you shouldn't.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Today's Pictures of My Life
And yet......with all this work stress...
...I still seem to find the time to browse the internet at work, looking for pictures of how stressed I am at work...
...i'm fucked up...
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Juvenile Jokes
Last night, my 11 year old says, "Say Idaho in syllables."
It's been a while since I was an 11 year old, and I'm trying to figure out what he wants me to do, so I follow the instructions to the best of my understanding.
"Idaho, in syllables."
"No," he says, smiling, "say Idaho in syllables."
It takes me a second, but I eventually catch on. I smile back at him.
"I. Da. Ho."
[for those of you who still don't get it, he was having me say the phrase, "I'm the ho." A "ho" is a shortened form of the word "hooker". So, he was making me say that I was a hooker. Ha. Ha. Ha.]
He giggles. I giggle. My wife giggles. My 15 year old giggles, despite himself, and says (trying to sound as adult as possible), "Dude, you're so stupid." But he's laughing, even though he doesn't want to. My wife tells him to relax, and we all continue to giggle at being juvenile. My 11 year old continues. "Say 'happiness' in syllables." I smile, knowing what he's asking this time around.
"Ha..."
He grins at me.
"...Pe..."
He grins bigger.
"...cock!"
He explodes with laughter, as does my 15 year old and wife.
I think about telling my joke that's in the same vein that I picked up in college: you ask somebody to bend over and spell the word "run" three times loudly and quickly. While they're bent over, you position your self behind them as if to simulate anal sex. Then, when they spell "run", it sounds like they're shouting the sentence, "Are you in? Are you in? Are you in?!" And people laugh because they got duped into having anal sex with me.
I think about telling this joke to my family for, let's say, two seconds. I, ultimately, decide to keep it to myself. I'll say "cock" in front of my kids, but I won't tell them how to humorously simulate anal sex in joke form. Even I have my limits.
It's been a while since I was an 11 year old, and I'm trying to figure out what he wants me to do, so I follow the instructions to the best of my understanding.
"Idaho, in syllables."
"No," he says, smiling, "say Idaho in syllables."
It takes me a second, but I eventually catch on. I smile back at him.
"I. Da. Ho."
[for those of you who still don't get it, he was having me say the phrase, "I'm the ho." A "ho" is a shortened form of the word "hooker". So, he was making me say that I was a hooker. Ha. Ha. Ha.]
He giggles. I giggle. My wife giggles. My 15 year old giggles, despite himself, and says (trying to sound as adult as possible), "Dude, you're so stupid." But he's laughing, even though he doesn't want to. My wife tells him to relax, and we all continue to giggle at being juvenile. My 11 year old continues. "Say 'happiness' in syllables." I smile, knowing what he's asking this time around.
"Ha..."
He grins at me.
"...Pe..."
He grins bigger.
"...cock!"
He explodes with laughter, as does my 15 year old and wife.
I think about telling my joke that's in the same vein that I picked up in college: you ask somebody to bend over and spell the word "run" three times loudly and quickly. While they're bent over, you position your self behind them as if to simulate anal sex. Then, when they spell "run", it sounds like they're shouting the sentence, "Are you in? Are you in? Are you in?!" And people laugh because they got duped into having anal sex with me.
I think about telling this joke to my family for, let's say, two seconds. I, ultimately, decide to keep it to myself. I'll say "cock" in front of my kids, but I won't tell them how to humorously simulate anal sex in joke form. Even I have my limits.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)