Since becoming the father of two, I'm finding that more and more of my priorities have changed. My family has always been the most important thing in my life, but now fatherhood is forcing other old habits and desires out the door.
First is gaming. I used to be, until recently, quite the hardcore online gamer. I tried to play as much as possible and to be the best, most accurate, fastest player I could be. I devoted a significant number of hours a week to an online gaming 'clan,' and was quite focused on it. I even went so far as to shell out a few thousand dollars to build a top-of-the-line gaming computer.
For a year or so, I really enjoyed it. But now...I just have completely lost interest. Having given away my CPU when building another computer, I don't even have the desire to buy another one to resurrect the slumbering silver behemoth. Its neon blue eye may never again open on the world.
My former best friend, who at one time told me I was like a brother to him, has stopped conversing with me since I've cut my presence online. I guess that shows how good of a friend he really was. All he ever posts about or emails me about are things concerning either computer parts, overclocking, or website issues. Not even so much as a word of congratulations on the birth of my daughter. I expected more, and perhaps that sense of mislaid importance is helping drive my departure from online gaming. That and total apathy.
I just find it odd, because ever since I can remember, I have loved computer games...losing myself in them for hours. Now, I find myself immersed in working in photoshop and wanting to get back into writing more.
I barely have the mental fortitude to even visit the clan website...it's more of a chore than it is fun anymore. I'm done with it, really. I just am finding it hard to tell anyone that. I'll get around to it. I kind of think the best way for me to go about it is just not even bother to visit the site and let myself disappear. At least I'd avoid confrontation that way, and be free to go on with my life not having to even think about it.
Away with you, games. Bring on fatherhood.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Migraine Vehicle Administration
This has been the most stunningly unproductive day I've had in quite a while. Littered with all the elements of a tragic comedy, it is in fact proof of God's sense of humor.
Let's take this from the top. Last night as I was closing my eyes to go to bed, my 14 month old son started to cry. Not much, just enough for me to know he was awake and wanted me. I let him cry for a few minutes, thinking he'd soothe himself and fall back to sleep. In the dark I waited, and just when he had quieted down, and I had closed my eyes in anticipation of sweet escape...he cried again. Louder this time, and more insistent.
I hate to hear my little guy cry, so I got up and went into his bedroom. He stood there in his crib rubbing at his runny nose and his sleepy eyes. I scooped him up and took him into my arms, sitting down in the glider rocker with him. He rested his little head on my shoulder, and I felt a little hand clutching my arm.
For about half an hour, all was well, he was quiet and calm, so I put him back in his crib and went back to my room. As I closed the door, the wailing started. Not just cries, but pitiful howls of desperation. Again, we sat in the rocker for half an hour, and again, as I lay him back in his crib, the cries started again.
I couldn't ignore them, or let him cry it out. These cries would have woken the whole house, and probably the neighbors. Not to mention, they broke my heart. I once again cradled him, and crawled into bed, laying him face-down on my chest. He tucked his hands down between my arms and abdomen and held on. We drifted together for what had to be nearly an hour, and I was confident he would go to sleep. Again I put him in his crib, and again, within minutes, he was screaming.
My wife, who was asleep with our newborn daughter, volunteered to trade 'duty' with me so I could get some rest. I reclined on the sofa next to the bassinet at 3:36, and was asleep in no more than a few seconds.
At 5:30, my daughter began to cry, wanting to be fed. I sat up with her, fed her, cradled her, and whispered to her as she gazed out the window at the gradually brightening sky. We sat together until about 6:45 am, when she fell asleep again in my arms, and I returned her to her bassinet.
I then woke up at 8:40, and was supposed to be at work at 9:00, a good twenty minute drive. I scrambled to get ready, say my goodbyes to my wife, whom I'd had to awaken, and rushed out the door.
Getting to work at 9:15, I immediately had to head back out to the Motor Vehicle Administration to get license plates. After a half an hour wait and a grumpy receptionist and emotionless teller, I was told that I needed a bill of sale for the car, and ushered on my way. Driving back to the officeI realized I'd left the office keys at home so I made the 20 minute trek back to the house to fetch them. Then, 20 minutes driving back to the office. I retrieved the bill of sale and headed back to the MVA. Suddenly, my gas gauge dropped from full to empty and the low fuel light came on. I knew the gauge was faulty, but from experience, I reckoned I had nearly 80 miles of gas left. I was wrong.
Within a minute, the van was jumpy and unresponsive. I pulled into a parking lot and the engine died. Another half hour getting gas...then, I finally made it back to the MVA. I stood in line for half an hour, only to be told my insurance information was not correct, despite the policy I held in my hand stating the opposite. This time, I wasn't even given a magic number to see the teller. By this time, I was getting increasingly agitated. On top of not having slept last night, I now ended up wasting every moment between 9am and 12:30.
I want to go home.
Let's take this from the top. Last night as I was closing my eyes to go to bed, my 14 month old son started to cry. Not much, just enough for me to know he was awake and wanted me. I let him cry for a few minutes, thinking he'd soothe himself and fall back to sleep. In the dark I waited, and just when he had quieted down, and I had closed my eyes in anticipation of sweet escape...he cried again. Louder this time, and more insistent.
I hate to hear my little guy cry, so I got up and went into his bedroom. He stood there in his crib rubbing at his runny nose and his sleepy eyes. I scooped him up and took him into my arms, sitting down in the glider rocker with him. He rested his little head on my shoulder, and I felt a little hand clutching my arm.
For about half an hour, all was well, he was quiet and calm, so I put him back in his crib and went back to my room. As I closed the door, the wailing started. Not just cries, but pitiful howls of desperation. Again, we sat in the rocker for half an hour, and again, as I lay him back in his crib, the cries started again.
I couldn't ignore them, or let him cry it out. These cries would have woken the whole house, and probably the neighbors. Not to mention, they broke my heart. I once again cradled him, and crawled into bed, laying him face-down on my chest. He tucked his hands down between my arms and abdomen and held on. We drifted together for what had to be nearly an hour, and I was confident he would go to sleep. Again I put him in his crib, and again, within minutes, he was screaming.
My wife, who was asleep with our newborn daughter, volunteered to trade 'duty' with me so I could get some rest. I reclined on the sofa next to the bassinet at 3:36, and was asleep in no more than a few seconds.
At 5:30, my daughter began to cry, wanting to be fed. I sat up with her, fed her, cradled her, and whispered to her as she gazed out the window at the gradually brightening sky. We sat together until about 6:45 am, when she fell asleep again in my arms, and I returned her to her bassinet.
I then woke up at 8:40, and was supposed to be at work at 9:00, a good twenty minute drive. I scrambled to get ready, say my goodbyes to my wife, whom I'd had to awaken, and rushed out the door.
Getting to work at 9:15, I immediately had to head back out to the Motor Vehicle Administration to get license plates. After a half an hour wait and a grumpy receptionist and emotionless teller, I was told that I needed a bill of sale for the car, and ushered on my way. Driving back to the officeI realized I'd left the office keys at home so I made the 20 minute trek back to the house to fetch them. Then, 20 minutes driving back to the office. I retrieved the bill of sale and headed back to the MVA. Suddenly, my gas gauge dropped from full to empty and the low fuel light came on. I knew the gauge was faulty, but from experience, I reckoned I had nearly 80 miles of gas left. I was wrong.
Within a minute, the van was jumpy and unresponsive. I pulled into a parking lot and the engine died. Another half hour getting gas...then, I finally made it back to the MVA. I stood in line for half an hour, only to be told my insurance information was not correct, despite the policy I held in my hand stating the opposite. This time, I wasn't even given a magic number to see the teller. By this time, I was getting increasingly agitated. On top of not having slept last night, I now ended up wasting every moment between 9am and 12:30.
I want to go home.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
The Cauldron
Why is it that some people are soothed by anger? Sometimes I wonder if chance and circumstance have hardened me into one of those sorry lot who feel at ease enraged. Having never noticed this in myself until somewhat recently, I can only surmise that it's a relatively new occurance. I do have my theories on its origins, given the nature of those who are by default, omitted from its wrath.
This demon in my head never rears itself to be directed at my wife or children; but others are not so lucky. I sometimes wonder why I'm not slower to anger at things or people, or even why I anger or even notice the things that set me off. I seem, somewhere over the course of my life thus far, to have lost the ability to throttle my temper. It's either on, or off. I no longer get angry or frustrated, I fly into a tempestuous rage, that even startles me with its ferocity.
Yet, somehow, I seem to have made peace with this monster. I find that occasionally, I will incite someone to drive me to it, almost like a drug. It's so common for me to feel like that, I am almost more comfortable with it boiling in my gut.
I don't like it, and I'm not crazy. I can understand most of what I perceive to be the causes, and am taking actions to resolve them so this slinks back into the depths of my soul never again to show itself.
Taking pride in, and revelling in anger is not who I am, but rather what I feel some people have made me become. It is, however, my responsibility to fix it.
This demon in my head never rears itself to be directed at my wife or children; but others are not so lucky. I sometimes wonder why I'm not slower to anger at things or people, or even why I anger or even notice the things that set me off. I seem, somewhere over the course of my life thus far, to have lost the ability to throttle my temper. It's either on, or off. I no longer get angry or frustrated, I fly into a tempestuous rage, that even startles me with its ferocity.
Yet, somehow, I seem to have made peace with this monster. I find that occasionally, I will incite someone to drive me to it, almost like a drug. It's so common for me to feel like that, I am almost more comfortable with it boiling in my gut.
I don't like it, and I'm not crazy. I can understand most of what I perceive to be the causes, and am taking actions to resolve them so this slinks back into the depths of my soul never again to show itself.
Taking pride in, and revelling in anger is not who I am, but rather what I feel some people have made me become. It is, however, my responsibility to fix it.
Monday, February 14, 2005
Immortality May Be Closer Than it Appears
My daughter was born this past Wednesday, hence the lack of updates. Not that anyone notices but myself, but still, I didn't want me to think I wasn't going to follow through with this.
She is the most beautiful little thing I've ever seen; so small and fragile, with such delicate little features I'm amazed she's even real. My wife may remember this past nine months, but to me it's a blur. I'm still in shock it's over and she's here, only 14 months after her brother. She's got a lot to live up to. Her brother is the sweetest, cutest, best behaved little boy I've ever seen.
I'm inclined to believe the similiarities won't stop at their looks. I can tell already she's going to be a true sweetheart. She craves her mother's touch. She hates her bassinet, much preferring the warmth of her mother. She's asleep most of the time, which is only normal, but for those few minutes when she opens her little eyes and peers at me, I feel like the most important person in her world. My son is the same way, when he smiles at me with those bright, perfect eyes, and tiny little teeth beaming, all seems right in the world.
It's truly amazing that just a few days ago, I'd never seen my daughter except on a songram screen. Now, when I hold her, I feel like I've known her forever, and loved her forever. The fact that one little person can inspire so much love gives me hope.
Life isn't great right now for my family, mostly because of my in-laws. We simply do not work well as a team. However, one glimpse of my son's smiling face, or my daughter's tiny eyes, and all the things that are unpleasant don't really matter anymore.
For the first time since my son was born, I think...I know I can make things right for us. I have to. I owe them. They are my gift to this world, and God's gift to me.
She is the most beautiful little thing I've ever seen; so small and fragile, with such delicate little features I'm amazed she's even real. My wife may remember this past nine months, but to me it's a blur. I'm still in shock it's over and she's here, only 14 months after her brother. She's got a lot to live up to. Her brother is the sweetest, cutest, best behaved little boy I've ever seen.
I'm inclined to believe the similiarities won't stop at their looks. I can tell already she's going to be a true sweetheart. She craves her mother's touch. She hates her bassinet, much preferring the warmth of her mother. She's asleep most of the time, which is only normal, but for those few minutes when she opens her little eyes and peers at me, I feel like the most important person in her world. My son is the same way, when he smiles at me with those bright, perfect eyes, and tiny little teeth beaming, all seems right in the world.
It's truly amazing that just a few days ago, I'd never seen my daughter except on a songram screen. Now, when I hold her, I feel like I've known her forever, and loved her forever. The fact that one little person can inspire so much love gives me hope.
Life isn't great right now for my family, mostly because of my in-laws. We simply do not work well as a team. However, one glimpse of my son's smiling face, or my daughter's tiny eyes, and all the things that are unpleasant don't really matter anymore.
For the first time since my son was born, I think...I know I can make things right for us. I have to. I owe them. They are my gift to this world, and God's gift to me.
Friday, February 4, 2005
Fahrenheit 51.8
No, this isn't a reference to that slovenly liberal 'film-maker's' trash piece, or the Bradbury novel of the same name. Said filmmaker should be shot for appropriating the title of such a great work. Interesting though that he ripped off the title of a science-fiction story; it kind of puts his work in a new light when you think about that.
No, this is a reference to the gorgeous day outside. Yesterday was gray, foggy, dreary, and filled with snow. Large, slow-falling snowflakes were the order of the day. Not today though, at 51.8 degrees, the snow is melting like mad, the streets are dry, and the sky is crystal clear.
The sun seems a little extra bright today; and it's warm enough to go without a jacket. At least for me, that is; though I usually go without a jacket unless it's so bone-chillingly cold that one could mistake the ambient air temperature for that of Pluto.
It's just one of those days where being outside just makes you glad to be alive.
No, this is a reference to the gorgeous day outside. Yesterday was gray, foggy, dreary, and filled with snow. Large, slow-falling snowflakes were the order of the day. Not today though, at 51.8 degrees, the snow is melting like mad, the streets are dry, and the sky is crystal clear.
The sun seems a little extra bright today; and it's warm enough to go without a jacket. At least for me, that is; though I usually go without a jacket unless it's so bone-chillingly cold that one could mistake the ambient air temperature for that of Pluto.
It's just one of those days where being outside just makes you glad to be alive.
Wednesday, February 2, 2005
Somniac
I don't understand; I can't remember when it changed. When did I lose the ability to stay up until 4 am, crash for three hours and go a full day without being tired? I can remember doing that most of my life but for some strange reason it just doesn't work. I'm not old, I'm 27, so that's not a factor. Anyone, incidentally who claims 27 is old, can go take a long walk off a short pier.
Sure, daily life is stressful and hectic, but it's not fair. It's not right. It's not...cool. I have always viewed sleep as a rather unwelcome intrusion into my life, and perhaps never moreso than now. Now that I have websites to design, and things to write, and time to do it and I find myself unable to focus, and needing to collapse into the abyss known as sleep.
It feels somewhat like a switch gets flipped...my brain goes into screensaver mode, and I can feel the energy level inside my consciousness scaling back and shutting off to conserve itself. I hate it. I hate it all and I will fight it. With caffeine and cold water to the face.
I warn you fatigue..back off. You got your 7 hours in last night, and you're going to get less tonight. We'll see who's going to win this one.
Sure, daily life is stressful and hectic, but it's not fair. It's not right. It's not...cool. I have always viewed sleep as a rather unwelcome intrusion into my life, and perhaps never moreso than now. Now that I have websites to design, and things to write, and time to do it and I find myself unable to focus, and needing to collapse into the abyss known as sleep.
It feels somewhat like a switch gets flipped...my brain goes into screensaver mode, and I can feel the energy level inside my consciousness scaling back and shutting off to conserve itself. I hate it. I hate it all and I will fight it. With caffeine and cold water to the face.
I warn you fatigue..back off. You got your 7 hours in last night, and you're going to get less tonight. We'll see who's going to win this one.
Tuesday, February 1, 2005
Ex Post Facto Deja vu
I suppose that now would be as good a time as any to post a little something as to the reason this little spot on some webserver has been siezed for my own nefarious purposes. To be honest, I don't really know.
I've always been fond of journaling, but spotty about doing it. At least for more than a day or perhaps a week. The desire is there, but for whatever reason, the follow-through hasn't been. Attribute it to laziness, improper motivation, whatever you will. After several false starts here in the blogging medium, I thought I'd give it one more chance to see if I could in fact, keep this going for more than a portion of a month.
I suppose that this will come into its own as a way of chronicling my thoughts, dreams, creativity, whatever I happen to be in the mood to post at any given time. Hopefully this will cut down on my almost fetishistic need to horde notebooks and pens in the futile hope they will be used for this same purpose. Maybe I'll have better luck here; I guess we'll see. Or perhaps only I will, as I'm likely to be the only person who ever sees this blog.
If anyone else happens to stumble into it, well, welcome, and I hope that maybe something I say makes you think. Entirely too few people do that anymore.
That being said, mentally I'm smashing a bottle of Dom Perignon over the side of my monitor, christening this site, and wishing it well as we sail into this adventure together. Metaphors are great, aren't they?
I've always been fond of journaling, but spotty about doing it. At least for more than a day or perhaps a week. The desire is there, but for whatever reason, the follow-through hasn't been. Attribute it to laziness, improper motivation, whatever you will. After several false starts here in the blogging medium, I thought I'd give it one more chance to see if I could in fact, keep this going for more than a portion of a month.
I suppose that this will come into its own as a way of chronicling my thoughts, dreams, creativity, whatever I happen to be in the mood to post at any given time. Hopefully this will cut down on my almost fetishistic need to horde notebooks and pens in the futile hope they will be used for this same purpose. Maybe I'll have better luck here; I guess we'll see. Or perhaps only I will, as I'm likely to be the only person who ever sees this blog.
If anyone else happens to stumble into it, well, welcome, and I hope that maybe something I say makes you think. Entirely too few people do that anymore.
That being said, mentally I'm smashing a bottle of Dom Perignon over the side of my monitor, christening this site, and wishing it well as we sail into this adventure together. Metaphors are great, aren't they?
Random Creations from Inappropriate Locations
Sky cannot contain her
broken wings can not hold
this angel in freefall
for when all is told she is not
what she seems, her veins run cold
with blood spilt by rage and her murderous ways
she corrupts and destroys with contempt
upon a stage only visible
to her and only as an infinitesimal blur
as she crashes to earth her terra forsaken
absorbs and consumes her, her life taken
in soil she slumbers
broken wings can not hold
this angel in freefall
for when all is told she is not
what she seems, her veins run cold
with blood spilt by rage and her murderous ways
she corrupts and destroys with contempt
upon a stage only visible
to her and only as an infinitesimal blur
as she crashes to earth her terra forsaken
absorbs and consumes her, her life taken
in soil she slumbers
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