On weathering the Sh*t Storm

I don't know if I blocked it out of my head after my daughter was born but how can so much shit come out of something so tiny? As my son hits one month old I have to marvel at the sheer number of diapers that we have gone through in this short amount of time. I have been thinking of advising my wife to just strap the diapers directly to her breast and skip the middleman or, should I say, middlebaby.

I have had this kid poop three times in the middle of changing one diaper. Let me paint the picture for you (insert brown paint joke here): The boy is either finishing eating or sleeping quietly after a feeding. And let me just add, does he ever stop eating? (I see a correlation!) You suddenly hear the sound of his diaper filling (well, not quite filling, but you get the point.) At first my wife and I pretend like we didn't hear it, hoping the other will take care of it. In this example, I decide to cave first and take care of it, because I am just a nice guy (and my wife is much better at pretending nothing happened than me... haha, just kidding!) I get the boy and slowly peel back the diaper, let some air hit the little guy's little yellow water cannon, so it doesn't turn into one. Once the coast is clear, I put the new diaper underneath, and quickly pull out the dirty one. Then I wipe the bottom and in mid-wipe, more poop starts coming out. So I wait and give it a minute or so. Then get another diaper, wipe again and toss the dirty diapers away and seal the new one. Then I go ahead and zip, button, screw, velcro, snap, whatever is required to get his clothes back on and pick him up. He looks at me, gives me the middle finger and unleashes another fecal storm into the new diaper. That's when I scream, then cry a little bit and leave him in a messy diaper for the next three days just to teach him a lesson. Just kidding, I only left him in the messy diaper for two days. Just kidding again (my son cannot give the middle finger yet and I would not leave any baby in a dirty diaper for very long... the scream and the tears--100% true.)

Now this scenario does not happen every time but it has occurred, unfortunately, more than once. And while I am talking about poop, I remember the first time with my daughter there was definitely a lot of concern about the shape, size, color, texture of every poop that she created. They even gave us a chart on what different poops signified. Though they did not give us a chart this time, we were still required to do poop augury. My daughter had wonderful, Dijon mustard colored poo for most of her first months, yet my son's has been greenish. Uh oh.... to the Internet!

Let me just go off on a little tangent and say that the worst thing any new parent should do is look for answers to medical questions on the Internet. You go to one of the big MD sites and type in your symptoms, or concerns and you get, the most probable causes, which is good... but then you make the mistake of continuing to reading. At the bottom of the list of possible issues are the rare one-in-a-million-chance diseases that are placed there to scare the living crap out of you (especially when your child has all of the symptoms!) But then again, you also tend to start Jelly Bellying the situation. This is a term that I use for when your mind starts making up stuff based on an implanted suggestion, for example, someone hands you a Jelly Belly jelly bean candy and asks you what flavor it is. You chew, and chew and can't figure out what it is... until the person who gave you the candy says what flavor it is and you instantly taste the flavor. You start seeing symptoms that aren't there and you slowly head down that road to panic and wasteful doctor visits. (Unless your child has the crazy rare one in a million disease... then I am just an ass.) Enough of this, back to the poop!

The green poop (according to both the Internet and poop charts--yes, they are out there, just Google newborn poop chart and see what you get) we believe is an allergy and my wife is pretty sure it is dairy based. God help her (she is a better person than me) since she has decided to cut all dairy out of her diet. I will say, that since she has stopped, the poop has gone to Dijon mustard color (and it was mucusy as well, but that cleared up too) so my wife was/is probably right (am I surprised?) I know that she really hopes that she is wrong, because she is really dying for some cheese, real half and half for her coffee, and lots of other dairy-based foods that I will not describe in detail. (after all, she does edit these posts for me so that would just be cruel.)

I know that the shit storm will eventually end and my son will start pooping normally. Normally will, however, be a double-edged sword. Less diapers, awesome! We will save some time, money and sanity.  But as the frequency of downloads decreases, the smell will start to increase. Right now all of our garbage cans are quickly filling up with dirty diapers, but there is no smell. Hooray! Like all storms, this one will die down and eventually end. I know my wife and I will get through it, as we are an excellent team and work well together, and besides, we have done it before. Though, to be honest, despite my whining, at least the poop does not have the range of his pee. After a couple of near misses, he finally got me this morning, a glancing blow on the hand. Could have been worse!

On doing it one last time!

I have been away from the Blog for a while so let's try to jump right in. My wife and I just had our second child and all I can say is... what the hell were we thinking? Do not think for a second that I regret the decision or that I in any way do not care for my shiny new son, but as I rapidly approach the 44th anniversary of escaping my mother's womb, I have to say I have a lot of concerns.

Let me state again that I am going to be 44 years old. (Wait, let's throw an exclamation point on that.) 44 years old! Now, I do not think that I am in any way some ancient relic fathering children (like Michael Douglas?) But being 43 right now, it does feel like I should have been out of this game a while ago. People I went to high school with are sending kids to college (some even have grand kids) and I am just starting out again with a newborn. But that is what you get when you get re-married later in life (and an attractive wife). 

To be honest, I feel fine now and my trepidation is not about the present. I sometimes find it hard to believe that I am in my forties. It is just I keep fast-forwarding in my head to 15 years in the future, seeing myself trying to play basketball with my kids, and being worried about throwing my hip out. I picture me cheering on my kids at a sporting event, waving my little four-legged walking stick with the tennis balls on the feet. When my daughter turns 18 years old, I will be 58 years old. That means I will be over 60 when my son turns 18. I know these are just numbers but my side of the family is not known for its longevity. My dad died at age 45, but the one thing I have on him is the fact that I have gone regularly to the doctor over the years and have been taking care of my health.

I know I am being ridiculous but these are the thoughts that I have. They do not weigh me down and I am not fixated on them, but they do sit at the back of my mind. Everyone says that kids will keep you young, and I do believe this, but this seems like it can only work for so long. It will get to the point where no matter how old you "feel," your body ages normally. You can only put it off for so long. I just want to be around long enough to see my kids grow up and be happy.  

Now that I have got my whining out, let me contradict everything I just wrote, because despite the bitching, I am very glad that we decided to have one more child. Part of this may be because my ex-wife decided to pick up and move to Virginia (me being in upstate New York, on the off chance that someone who doesn't know me personally actually reads this), so my three children from my first marriage, who were once a tornado of energy in my house every other weekend, are now just a twice a week phone call (this will be a complete other story for another time). The new baby has helped fill a large whole in my life that the other kids left when they moved. This isn't to say that my three-year-old daughter is chopped liver (if you enjoy that sort of thing), but the new baby has been a major distraction, especially with how much direct care he requires.

My three-year-old has always been special to me in that she was the first child that I had a direct hand in raising (and the first that I got to go through the entire pregnancy with). My first three children were adopted and as I have mentioned in other posts, my ex really treated me like the fourth child so I didn't really have a large hand in raising them (or at least I didn't feel that I did). After the divorce, she made an even greater effort at keeping me from interacting with the kids, but again, that is a whole different post. Now I have a new child to raise with a woman who values and respects me, which is amazing.

Also, it is very nice to have a matching set of kids. We got the boy and the girl now, so there is balance in the house. It will prove to be more expensive, as now we cannot take advantage of my daughter's hand-me-downs, though maybe I should use them anyway. No need to start asserting gender roles on him.

My daughter now has someone to grow up with as well. Being someone who grew up with a sibling that was close in age (my brother is one year older than me), I know the value of having a playmate throughout your life. (And of course, there will be no fighting or competition or anything negative like this... lol.) My three-year-old will also have someone to boss around, and with the older kids moved away, no one to boss her around. I think she might make out the best in this deal.

No matter how much I worry about the future, I will not let it affect the present. I now have a new beautiful baby boy that I will shower with love and attention--a brand new kid to try and turn into a powerful nerd like me, and yet another child to take care of me and my wife when we get older. Now that my wife has gotten her tubes tied, he is also the last child, and I'm okay with that (and so is my wife!)

On Disney and the Movies that Never End, Tangled Edition

I have very mixed feelings about this Walt Disney fellow. Not only did the man create, but also, because of his success/vision/financing(?), allow to be created, some of the greatest family movies and cartoons of all time. Disney, and now Pixar, are mighty companies, designed to delight children of all ages (and delight their shareholders as well). Disney owns theme parks, cruises, TV networks, Broadway shows, and so much more. They have even acquired two entities that I love: Marvel and Star Wars. Despite what I think of the company's marketing/merchandising machine and my concerns over what will happen to the my beloved Star Wars franchise, the most important thing for me right now is that my three-year-old daughter has been sucked into that machine.

It started when my wife and I decided to put on Cinderella for my youngest. My daughter has never been a huge TV watcher, primarily because we don't watch a ton of television. When she did watch TV, a lot of it was music based (i.e. Barney) and never any full-length movies. We put Cinderella on thinking she would just watch for 10 minutes, if that, and ask for something else or move on to some other activity. That girl sat through the entire film, eyes glued to the TV. She laughed, she asked pertinent questions and said "Oh no!" at the appropriate moments. My wife and I were stunned. And then came the words I dreaded to hear... words that brought back repressed memories from when my three oldest children were younger.. my daughter looked me in the eye and said "Can I watch that again?" Aaaaargh! It was starting!

"Can I watch it again?" How can children watch the same movie (or TV show) over and over again? I mean, what pleasure can they possibly get from it? Einstein once said that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. My daughter watches movies over and over again and somehow seems surprised that everything turns out all right in the end. She is only three, but still... she's insane, right?

Just as an aside, she did watch TV shows over and over but usually there were enough episodes in a season to keep it at least a little fresh. Also, as I mentioned above, when a show has a lot of music in it, the TV almost becomes more like a radio.

Unfortunately I find myself watching these same movies over and over again and then my insanity kicks in. No, I don't expect the outcomes to change but I start picking apart the movies, analyzing them and wondering things that are best left un-wondered. Some of you may be understanding exactly what I am saying, others may be scratching their heads wondering what the hell I'm talking about. Well, for the latter, let me show you what I am talking about.

My daughter's current obsession is Tangled (I know it should be Frozen, but hey, kudos to her for not jumping on the band wagon.) For the last month or so she has wanted to watch it in the mornings before going to day care and also when she gets home from daycare. She knows it so well she is quoting scenes, and singing along to most of the songs. I have watched the film over and over as well and I am left with all sorts of questions.

First off, I don't believe that anyone could be stuck in a tower for 18 years and never go outside. Especially when you have a big window overlooking your secret valley. Rapunzel let down her hair so her "mother" could come and go as she pleased yet she never, before her 18th birthday, lowered herself down to step on the ground. I don't care what kind of psychological abuse one uses on their hostage; it seems highly unlikely that someone would not, at some point even step a foot on the ground below the tower. This would slowly turn into a steady exploration of the valley, and then curiosity would take them outside the valley. Nope, not Rapunzel. She just stared out the window and pined.... I say bullshit!

Next, the movie tries to portray Mother Gothel as this evil woman who stole a baby for her own selfish designs (immortality). Yes, she did steal the child from its birth parents, and yes the primary motivation for the act was to keep her fountain of youth, but Rapunzel grew into a fairly intelligent, well-mannered and lovely woman. I feel some of her behavior (and art talent) could be attributed to birth, but a lot of her development must have been taught/learned. The only person to interact with Rapunzel was Mother Gothel. Therefore, there must have been a level of love that Gothel had for Rapunzel. She may have even reached the point where she thought of Rapunzel as her own daughter.

I think it is wrong to assume that there was nothing but selfishness and evilness behind the woman's actions (at least before the events of the movie). There must have been love of a sort between them. "Stockholm Syndrome", I hear you thinking; sure, maybe that would explain Rapunzel's side of it. After all, she did reach out a hand to try and catch her fake mother as she tumbled out of the window to her death. However, this doesn't explain why Rapunzel was not just locked in a room and ignored, except for "magical youth giving" time. Like I said, Mother Gothel must have developed some sort of love for Rapunzel.

Next, there is a series of little things that I noticed and feel the need to mention.

I know Rapunzel never wore shoes, so her feet must have toughened up a bit, but she was walking on stone floors and rugs in the tower. Running outside in a world full of rocks, twigs and other sharp foot-piercing stuff seems a bit far fetched. Yet Rapunzel puts on a huge dance number in the valley.

At one point during the movie, Flynn Rider and Maximus (the palace horse, who happens to be chasing Rider, who made off with the crown of a certain lost princess) fall from a tree into a very deep gorge. The fall is hundreds of feet yet they just land with an ooof! In real life, there would have been two shattered corpses on the valley floor.

In the bar scene, where Flynn and Rapunzel are hiding from a group of guards who are hot on their trail, Maximus enters the search and is practically a bloodhound. The horse sniffs out an entrance to a secret tunnel out of the bar in under 5 minutes. Yet in an earlier scene, Maximus is no more than two feet away from Flynn, who is blocked by a thin wall of vines, but doesn't detect the rogue. This almost annoys me as much as the Ring Wraith in Fellowship of the Ring. The foul beast is two feet from Frodo and can't find, sense or smell the ring. Hey Sauron, maybe these aren't the best candidates for a Ring recovery team! But, I digress...

Later in the film, when a group of the song and dance ruffians arrange a Flynn Rider rescue operation, the piano playing thug places Flynn on the end of a cart. Another one jumps off a second story landing (2 stories! Broken legs anyone?) onto the cart catapulting Flynn a tremendously large distance to land exactly on the back of Maximus. I am not even going to guess the distance both vertically or horizontally but, it is absolutely ridiculous. A Chinese circus act would have to train years to get that to work (including the death or dismemberment of countless acrobats) and these guys pull it off first try. Not friggin' likely.

After watching Tangled as many times as I have, I am also convinced that most of the royal guards are clones. The majority look exactly alike. And I also might add, they shoot as well as Storm/Clone Troopers from the Star Wars movies as well.

Let's jump right to the end, which I have to say was very reminiscent of Beauty and the Beast (hero gets stabbed in the back, villain dies by extreme gravity, and hero brought back from the brink with a tear from their beloved). Flynn, on climbing the tower to save Rapunzel, gets a knife to the back from Mother Gothel. Rapunzel agrees to stay with her fake mother (knowing that she is the lost princess) with no resistance, if Gothel lets her heal Flynn with her magic hair. In an act of supreme sacrifice, Flynn cuts Rapunzel's hair, freeing her from the control of her wicked abductor. All I have to say to this is... how stupid is Flynn Rider? The sacrifice is nice and all, but he could have cut Rapunzel's hair after she healed him. Nope, not Flynn. Maybe deep down inside he realizes he doesn't want to settle down and get married and figures this is the best way out. Probably not, but you never know!

Was I also the only one that thought that if Flynn wants to live forever, all he has to do is be a jerk to her (or marry her, that seems to make a lot of women cry)? Apparently her tears still have the magic healing power, since it was Rapunzel's tear falling on Flynn that healed him. If Flynn could bottle up those tears and force her to sing, he could stay young forever. And he wouldn't even have to use force--she obviously is susceptible to emotional control.... okay, that last bit is getting a bit dark, but it just helps bring home my point.

I have watched this film too many times. If the over-analyzing of the film wasn't enough, the fact that I find the songs popping into my head randomly throughout the week proves it. The sad thing is, is that this is just the beginning. Today it is Tangled, tomorrow it will be something new. A new movie will be placed on repeat. Then my daughter will not just want to watch the movie but she will want the bed sheets and the curtains and the cups and the play set and the dolls and the trading cards and on and on and on. I guess that is just one of the hardships we as parents have to bear, and to be honest, if this is one of the hardest, with all the shitty stuff that can happen to a child in the world today, I say "Let it go, Let it go, Can't hold it back anymore..." (Okay, that was from Frozen, but dammit, that is the movie she should be fixating on!)

On all these Damn Facebook Things

I have been Facebooking for several years now and often have discussions with non-Facebookers on the value of the service. People who don't Facebook bring up numerous arguments for why they do not participate.

Many people feel it is a security risk to put all your information out there for anyone to read. Nay nay I say (That was a little shout out to John Pinette---may he rest in peace). You have control over what you put on Facebook, just like anywhere else on the internet. So if you feel the need to share stuff that you don't want anyone else to see it, maybe you shouldn't put it on Facebook. Just saying...

Some people also tell me that they choose not to get on Facebook because they don't want to get sucked into its world. This is something I can understand. When I first started on Facebook I was obsessively playing games (in particular Mafia Wars) and constantly changing my status with riveting updates such as what I was eating, whether I was having a particularly challenging bowel movement and other even more interesting things. Apparently these constant status updates are what Twitter is for. I shouldn't make fun of Twitter, though. It would be nice to be interesting enough to have people actually care about every trivial thing that I was doing every minute of the day. Eventually, I got past this phase of hyper-Facebooking and just settled into using it to let family and friends know what is going on in my life (and to plug the Blog, of course). By the way, you can all stop sending me game requests. I'm done with them.

People have told me that Facebook is just stupid and pointless and I can't always disagree with them. There are things I really love about Facebook and things I absolutely abhor. It is a wonderful way to reach out and stay in contact with family and friends. When something terrible happens, it is so much easier to blast a post to the whole family as opposed to making individual phone calls. (Okay, there are always people you call. I would never post on Facebook about the passing of a loved one before calling the immediate family first. How crappy would that be? Status: "Mom Died today. And I had a burrito for lunch." <Picture of Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellan with Burritos on their heads>)

Facebook is a great way to organize events and activities with your friends. My 25th High School reunion is in the works and I am trying to help, so I created a page for it on FB and only got about 17 people to join. Even though that was 17 people of about 40-ish (not the biggest school), I found myself getting annoyed. It would be son much more simple if the whole class were on Facebook. We could have everything organized in a couple of days. I actually had a friend (well, we're still friends so forget the past tense) who did not want to join so I created a fake Gmail account and then made a fake Facebook account for him, just so that I could have an easier communication system with my gaming group. He actually uses it now and it sure does make things easier for me.

But with the good comes the bad, unfortunately. Facebook has changed a lot since I started. Advertisements are taking more and more space. Ads are appearing in our feeds. Constant changes to the layout are annoying. Posts to other people's walls are showing up in my feed and sometimes it is something I don't think the writer is intending for other people to read (awkward!) Worst of all is what other people post.

I'm not saying everything that people post is bad. I have gotten a good laugh out of some things and have been educated on various subjects through articles my friends have shared. I enjoy seeing people on vacation (though I am often jealous, especially when the people are somewhere warm and sunny while I suffer through another cold winter's day in upstate New York), and I like seeing family photos. It is nice to keep track (not in a creepy, stalker way) of how everyone and their families are doing. It is heartbreaking to see people dealing with adversity, but it makes me feel closer to them, even though we may hardly ever talk or see each other (especially when so many of my friends are spread across the globe.) This all being said, there are plenty of things that people post that drive me crazy!

I hate when people share political stuff. Well, I should say, I hate when people post political stuff that I disagree with. Someday I will share all my political views, but until then, much like Donny and Marie were a little bit country and a little bit Rock and Roll, I am conservative on some things, and liberal on others. Whether you are a hard-core conservative or a hard-core liberal, I don't want see 20 posts a day, sharing articles that support your viewpoint. I will block your feed and I have blocked feeds from people because of it.

I also hate the "Like, Comment, or Share if you love/hate  <Fill in the Blank>" posts.  I don't care what the Blank is, whether it is Jesus, or your daughter/son, or Herpes, or GMO's, or Nickelback--I am not going to do it. This does not mean that I don't love/hate whatever the Blank is; it just not how I choose to show my support/aversion to something/someone. Along the same vein, I hate the passive aggressive "most of you probably won't share this" posts. Your right: I'm not going to re-post it. Maybe I should call it the psychic post.

Some people don't like Vague Booking, the time honored tradition of putting up a post, almost demanding someone to comment "is everything all right?" I personally have no problem with the practice. I don't usually do it, but can't swear that I have never done it. I think we all get to the point where we just want to blast out some frustration without telling everyone the whole story behind it. Besides, many of us have people on Facebook that are close friends and family, and some people whom we barely know. Usually the post is not that vague to the people in your inner circle. (And sometimes, the post is about one of the people in your "friends" list.)

I'm sure there are a lot of trends/fads that have risen and fallen during the time I've been Facebooking, There was/is Grumpy Cat, just to give an example, but the one that is currently driving me crazy is the stupid quizzes. The "What kind of <Fill in the Blank> are you?" ones. Oh my goodness. Enough! I don't care which member of the Partridge family you are or what toe you are. Stop! Stop! Stop! There is no way answering 6 simple questions can do much of anything, let alone give you great insight about yourself. I wish I could find it, but, I saw a post where someone famous took a quiz that they were in and didn't get themselves. It's stupid and ridiculous, so enough! And in case you were wondering...
I am....
Joey Gladstone (from Full House)
Artemis (from Always Sunny)
Andrea Zuckerman (BH 90210)
I'm destined to win the Amazing Race
Stu Pickles (from the Rugrats)
Dan Humphrey (from Gossip Girl)
Sara (from Orphan Black)
Ross (from Friends)
Apple Jack (from My Little Pony)
Rose Tyler (from Doctor Who)
The Office is the TV Workplace that is right for me
House Baelish (from Game of Thrones)
Eric (from True Blood)
Star's Hollow is the TV town I should live in
Yoda (from which 80's alien are you)
Maury Ballstein (from Zoolander)
The Bride (which bad ass Tarantino character)
John McClane (which 80's action hero)
Miracle Max (Princess Bride)
I am Divergent (Which faction are you)
The Beast is the Disney Prince that is my True Love
Kermit (which Muppet)
Ichabod Crane (which Johnny Depp character)
Iron Man (which Avenger)
Josh (which Clueless character)
Iago (which Disney Sidekick)
Mystique (which X-men character)
Gatsby Leo (which Leo DiCaprio character)
Ursula (which Disney villain)
Sulu (which Star Trek character)
Geordi La Forge (which Next Generation character)
Rex (which Toy Story character)
Luke Skywalker (which Star Wars Character)
Tiana (which Disney Princess)
Ron Weasley (which Harry Potter character)
Brick Tamland (which Anchorman newscaster)
A Hobbit (which magical Tolkein creature)
Haymitch (which Hunger Games character)
Princess Ella (which Movie Princess)
Tweedledum and Tweedledee (which Alice in Wonderland character)
Damian (which Mean Girl character)
Valley Girl Cage (which Nicolas Cage character)
Bertram Weeks (which Sandlot character)
Bane (which Batman Villain)
The Mandarin (which Marvel Movie Villain)
The 80's Fantasy World I should live in is Florin (Princess Bride)
Chunk (which Goonies Character)
Frodo (which Lord of the Rings character)
Alfalfa (which little rascal)
Chas Tenenbaum (which Royal blah blah)
Nala (Lion King character)
The Scarecrow (which Wizard of Oz character)
Ferris Bueller is my 80's Movie Boyfriend
Velociraptor (which Jurassic Park dino)
Anna (which Frozen character)
Super Speed is the Super Power that is right for me
28 Days Later is the Movie Plague that killed me
Anna (which Downton Abbey character)
Fall/Autumn (what season)
I will live to 106 years old
Pig (what farm animal)
Enlightened (what type of person)
Octopus (what ocean animal)
True Neutral (what alignment)
Impulsive (what one word describes you)
Serious/Creative (What personality)
Flirty (Ideal Clothing style)
American Apparel (what corporation)
Oldies (what music style)
Boxing (my fighting style)
Oyster Mushroom (what mushroom)
Orange (my aura color)
Hazelnut (what nut)
Seafood (what food)
Paul McCartney (which Beatle)   75
Smell of a Lilac Flower (what smell of spring)
Snake (what pet)
Barbados (what Caribbean Island)
Hamburger (what type of burger)
Couch (what furniture)
Thumb (which finger)
Jet Plane (what vehicle)
Star (what shape)
A Saint (what were you in a past life)
Storm Cloud (what cloud)
A Rubber Duck (what toy are you)
Flexible (what is your brain good at)
Low Key Fun (what kind of fun)
Judd Apatow (which director)
Ice Wine (what wine)
Passionate Kisser (what type of kisser)
George W. Bush (what president)
Black Sabbath (what classic rock band)
Loyal Best Friend (what type of best friend)
Thunder (are you thunder or lightning)
Pickup Truck (what type of car)
Daernerys Targaryen (what Game of Thrones character)
Chocolate Cupcake (what flavor of cupcake)
The Ghostly Hitchhiker (which Urban Legend)
Shao Yang Body (what is your Chinese Body Type)
Comedy (what movie genre)
Pablo Picaso (which artist should paint your portrait)

Ps. Bitstrip... not a fan.

On My Autobiography

As I have mentioned before in earlier posts, I listen to a lot of audio books at work. Because I borrow a lot of them from my sister, there is quite a bit of variety in my selection. If I had my own library, it would be mostly Sci-Fi and Fantasy. Because of my sister, I have delved into everything from The Hunger Games to Fifty Shades of Grey to Atlas Shrugged. I was recently thinking about some of the autobiographies I had come across in my listening: the first was Tough Shit: Life Advice from a Fat, Lazy Slob Who Did Good by Kevin Smith; second was American on Purpose by Craig Ferguson; and the third was Bossy Pants by Tina Fey. All were good books, and I enjoyed them very much, but I find autobiographies usually make me react in two ways.

Firstly, autobiographies give me brief spurts of creative energy: I get momentarily inspired and work furiously on a project for a week or so. Then my well runs dry, I lose focus (or life ends up running me over) and the project I was working on gets abandoned (until my next inspirational surge). I keep hoping I can ride one of these spurts of energy to greatness, but soon realize that success does not come instantaneously. The people who wrote these books tell tales of struggle and accomplishment and I seem to forget about those pesky struggling parts. There is also the sense of time that is missed. When Kevin Smith says that he worked hard to get the money, talent, equipment and the time to shoot his movie Clerks and it is told on two or three pages, one can lose sight of the fact that it was accomplished over many months, if not years. No one achieves fame or success overnight, unless their step dad is Bruce Jenner and they are "caught" on a sex tape,and then it's all reality shows and non-stop media coverage. (Hmmmm, a sex tape... yeah no, this will never happen!)

Secondly, I find that autobiographies make me feel absolutely pathetic. I read/listen to the author tell how they had a dream and then proceeded to make it happen. There were usually trials and tribulations along the way, but despite it all, they persevered. I think that I am supposed to be inspired and run out and try to make my dreams a reality, but it usually backfires and just makes me feel worse about my life.

Let me say before I go on, that I have few regrets in my life, and I am by no means unhappy with my life at the present. I have an amazing wife, awesome children and it seems that things are only getting better with each passing year. I can't even say that I regret my first marriage, although granted, it certainly wasn't the best time of my life; but I ended up adopting 3 awesome kids whom I love very much, so how could I could I ever say that I truly regretted it?

When I say these books make me feel worse about my life, I mean my professional life. I have always been a dreamer and that has manifested itself in many ways. I have always been interested in art. My mother told me that when I was in Kindergarten I drew a picture that the teacher had shown her of an Indian (I'm sorry, Native American) village, or something like that. The teacher was impressed by the details I put in the picture, including the blood dripping out of the arrow wounds of the little stick people.

As I got older I became a doodler and took a couple of art classes in high school, probably the mandatory ones. I don't remember any art teacher ever saying, "Hey John, that's pretty good," or giving me any other encouragement, so I certainly did not think of art as anything but a fun hobby. I would not give art a second thought until I was a sophomore in college, where I was bitten by the Walt Disney bug. That is the phrase that I apply to that delusional moment when you say to yourself, "Why, you can do anything you want in life, as long as you work hard and follow your dreams."

Maybe delusional is not a fair statement, some people know exactly what they want to do with their lives and doggedly pursue their dreams. Most people don't make it, but some do, and then write autobiographies about their accomplishments. For goodness sake, Justin Bieber has an autobiography, and he is only 20 years old.... isn't this a bit premature? He obviously knew what he wanted to do at an early age and went for it. To be honest, I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up, and I am 43.

I started college with the intent on taking computer programming, because that seemed like it would be something that I could make some good money with later in life. After getting a 2.5 in my first semester class and a 2.0 (my lowest grade ever) in the second class, I decided I needed to shift my focus. That is when the Walt Disney bug actually bit me. I always enjoyed doodling as a kid, even tried to make some comic book characters (I still remember one of my heroes was Tsunami Man--though, with the disasters of the last few years, maybe that would not have been the greatest Superhero name.) so I thought I'd give art a shot. I did pretty well and my grades improved dramatically and I was actually enjoying my classes. I even made the Dean's List 3 of my last 4 semesters.

Then I graduated and got accepted into grad school at the Memphis College of Art in Memphis, Tennessee. Unfortunately, I got married before I started (I will tell this tale in detail at another time) and ended up dropping out halfway through the first semester. That was probably the last time I really did any art. There was a brief time when a good friend recruited me to help with a project that he started. I was very excited about it but the project ended up falling to the wayside. I really wasn't in a position to help that much; between a demanding wife and three active kids, free time was at a minimum. I got a few sketches to him but that was about it. Besides, for me, art is something that needs to be kept up with and one can't expect to not draw anything for a decade and jump right back into it. (I am happy to say that the work he did turned into his first novel. I have plugged it before and I will again: The Daedalus Incident by Michael J. Martinez. He has also turned out a novella called The Gravity of the Affair and book two of the series, The Enceladus Crisis, is coming out May 6th, Order it now on Amazon. He didn't even pay me for that plug!) So for now, the dream of becoming a great artist/illustrator has been set aside.

I have always loved stand up comedy as well. In high school I listened to Andrew Dice Clay, Sam Kinison, Eddie Murphy, Bill Cosby and whatever comedy albums I could get my hands on. I would dream about getting up on stage and performing, even going so far as writing some bits up. My classmates voted me class clown and everyone always complimented me on how funny I was. Unfortunately, I grew up in a small farm town in upstate New York and was nowhere near any comedy venues or open mic nights. Besides this, I was incredibly shy. Around people I was comfortable with, I could say whatever I wanted and act however I needed to in order to get a laugh. The thought of doing the same thing in front of strangers was terrifying.

When I got to college nothing really changed, except I had access to actual live comedy shows. The school had a comedy series and would regularly get comedians to perform at the school. I went to as many shows as I could, watching, taking in their acts, wishing I had the guts to do the same thing. I never did. We did have a little talent show for two years in International House, the place I resided for most of my college career. One year I sang a duet with my good friend Jalal, who sadly is no longer with us. We sang Ram it Down by Judas Priest, a capella. There was no real preparation--we just agreed to do it and read the lyrics off the cassette jacket, with fist hammering motions. It went over well and we got some good laughs. I cannot sing, which is why it was probably entertaining to watch.

The other year at the talent show I decided to show off my juggling skills. I talked while I was juggling and it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. I know it was just a little thing, but the adrenaline rush I got and the energy I got from the crowd was awesome. But, it was not enough to get me to try it again. Where the people in the autobiographies would have used the experience as a catalyst to their future careers, I just went on living, never trying to achieve more. Then I left school, got married, and just let the dream of becoming a stand up comedian fade away as well.

Another dream I have had (and still have) is becoming a writer. I know this may be a surprise, as you read my blog (that was sarcasm, by the way), but I would love to write something someday. My brain is constantly bombarded with story ideas and I have started numerous projects. Unfortunately, I pretty much blew off English classes in school, never having the slightest interest in writing until maybe the last 10 years or so.

English and writing were the furthest things from my mind when I was in college; I guess my brain has only so much dream capacity. When I got out of college and my other dreams seemed to be unattainable (not that they really were in actuality, I just wasn't mental/spiritually capable of making them happen-- in other words I was too much of a coward to take a chance), I started thinking about writing.

I frequently have had story ideas pop into my head. I think part of it comes from all the fantasy roleplaying I do. Constantly coming up with adventures to run my friends through really gets the creative juices flowing. For those unfamiliar with fantasy roleplaying, basically it is creating stories that your friends take an active part in. You create a story with an open plot and the players, who take on the roles of the protagonists, interact with the setting you have created and try to resolve the mystery/adventure/whatever the story is about.

I have actually written a book, but it currently resides in two one-subject notebooks, that I am now very slowly rewriting and getting into an electronic format. I have tried writing a couple of screenplays and have several movie ideas bouncing through my head which I hope someday to get down. This dream I haven't "abandoned" yet.

There are other projects I have started: I tried to develop a card game and often think of coming up with my own roleplaying game or system. But, this post is now getting waaaay too long, so I will not go into any other dreams I have had. Let me get back to the main topic--if you remember, it was about autobiographies--so I can wrap this up.

All I know is that I have been writing this blog since last May--believe me, I am stunned I haven't given up on it by now. It's amazing how much more you can achieve with a supportive wife. (And one who does understand how the English language works. I should publish a post that she hasn't edited and you will see how bad my grammar is.)

As I reread this blog, I realized that I did little more than whine about how I haven't really followed any of my dreams. All I have to say is, not yet! I haven't given up; I still have plenty of years to turn this around and I am going to do it! In fact, this post has nearly inspired me to write my own autobiography. Why should famous people have all the fun? Instead of tales of inspiration from those who have traveled the road to success, you can hear the tale of a chubby kid with low self-esteem and high hopes, who grew into a chubby guy with low self-esteem, working a dead-end job. A guy who found the courage to leave a bad marriage after 15 years and ended up reconnecting and marrying an old college friend he hadn't talked to in over seven years. A girl who makes him feel like his dreams are attainable and who is more of an inspiration than any book I have ever read or listened to. This, by the way, is just a cheap ploy to get her to continue editing my blog, but don't tell her that.

On Organized Sports

The Super Bowl has come and gone and I'd like to say, in the immortal words of Robbie Hart (Adam Sandler's character in the "Wedding Singer"), "Whoopity Dooo!" I do not say this because I want to diminish the achievements of the Seattle Seahawks this season, or incur the wrath of their fans; I am merely expressing the fact that I am just not that into sports.

I am by no means a sports hater, In fact, I was a sports lover for most of my youth. I do still catch the occasional sporting event on TV, but what I guess I am trying to say is that I am not really a fan of organized sports. I will happily shoot hoops with someone, throw a football around or even jump into a hockey game... well, maybe not hockey, seeing as though it has been over a decade since I strapped on a pair of skates and I would probably end up killing myself or some other unsuspecting participant. (Or more likely, strain muscles that have not been used in a looong time.)

When I say that I don't like organized sports, I mean that I do not follow teams or really care who is winning or losing a particular game, set, match or whatever. I wasn't always so indifferent about sports. When I was a kid I was a huge Yankees fan (I liked Graig Nettles in particular). I also rooted for the Montreal Canadiens and was proud to say that I was a Patriots fan, at a time when saying it out loud was met with scorn and ridicule (I was a huge Steve Grogan  fan!) I collected baseball cards (which I endlessly sorted and re-arranged) and would watch sporting events on TV all the time. Part of this love probably came from my father.

My father was definitely a sports fan. He loved the Bills for football (my brother was a Dolphins fan so there was a lot of smack talk during football season) and I'm sad to say I'm not sure who he favored in the other sports. In addition to his love of organized sports, he was always a part of my school sports. He coached little league, went to my basketball and soccer games and was really supportive of all my sporting endeavors. He would take the family to local sporting events: AHL hockey games and minor league baseball games, and he even took me and my brother to the only professional sporting event I have ever been too, a Montreal Expos game in Montreal.

Unfortunately my interest in organized sports started to wane as I got older. As other interests increased, my love of following teams diminished. In fact, by the time I got out of college, I couldn't have cared less what the Yankees or my former beloved Patriots were up to. I did not watch games on TV, unless there was nothing else on, and I really didn't care who was in the World Series, Super Bowl or Stanley Cup.

Let me stop for one second and say that I have never, ever had any interest in watching or following basketball, whether professional or college. Maybe there was a time that I would root for the Lakers, but overall, there was no interest. I think the Lakers were just a programmed response for when/if someone asked who I liked based on their success at that particular time. I was never interested in college basketball and now I pretty much hate it, primarily because it makes my current job harder once March rolls around.

Just because I do not follow sports teams does not mean I would never go to a sporting event if invited. There is something amazing about being at a live sporting event: the sights, the smells, the people, the energy, the food, it's wonderful... and there are no commercials! (Well except for the fact that everything that can be labeled with a corporate logo usually is.) There are also no annoying commentators, endlessly spouting off stats to fill in the spaces between the action. Commentators are why I can't even watch baseball games anymore and why I still do enjoy an occasional hockey game on the TV (there is no time for silly stats as the action is virtually non-stop.) In college I would go with a group of friends, which included several women (my wife being one of them) and had an awesome time. When it came right down to it, however, I didn't care where our school team finished each season or if they lost that night. To be honest, I was much more interested in the girls that we went with than the hockey game.

I will confess that of all the sports out there, I can understand following football more than any other. The fact that the season is so short and there are so few games, it makes each game very important. With hockey, baseball or basketball, considering the fact there are 5,000 games per season, there doesn't seem to be a need watch until the end of the season. And I also must confess, I do check up on the Patriots throughout the season, just to see how they are doing. But unlike my youth, I am not upset for days following a heartbreaking loss.

Sports fans come in a variety of flavors. You have the casual follower, who has a favorite team, and tries to catch a game every now and then. They usually know whether their team won their last game or not and probably know where their team is ranked, but that's about it. At the other extreme is the total sports fanatic. They know stats about the team and the players and have been to an actual game or two (if geographically/ economical possible). They own multiple pieces of clothing with their sports team on it and their mood is affected by the performance of their team for days after the last game. They may have even been responsible for hate mail/threats of violence to referees/officials after a loss. They may even hold a grudge for years and years after a particularly painful defeat.

I would never criticize the super fans out there. (Well, I'm sure there are a few out there who deserve criticism...) We all have our obsessions/ things we are passionate about. Some people collect guns, others are into comic books and some people are into "My Little Ponies" (they are out there... they are called Bronies. There is a documentary about it... who knew.) I personally devote many hours in a week, whether it is writing adventures (mini-stories) or just doing prep work, for my weekly pen and paper Role Playing Games. (If you don't know what this is, then it will take too much time to explain. Just know that it's pretty high on the nerdiness scale.)

To wrap this up, let me say that I am not in any way condemning the sports fans out there. You love your sports and that is cool. I have things I am passionate about and that is cool. We can all co-exist. Do not push your sports loving agenda on me, and I will not try to get you all to start playing Dungeons and Dragons. I was one of you once, so I understand you. I have stayed up late to catch the end of a game. I have cried after a crushing defeat (Remember, I was a Patriots fan, lot of tears back in the 80's). I rode the high of a World Series victory. I get the passion, the love of sports, the need to follow a team. The only thing I can't understand, the one mystery that eludes me to this day, is the love of NASCAR. It's not a sport, people. Calm down!

On Creativity in the bathroom and passing it on

As one can tell from the title of my blog, I spend a lot of time in the bathroom. That's not to say that I suffer from some sort of lower intestinal problem--it's just that when I have to go number 2, I like to take my time. Being someone who tries to be efficient, I try to make the best use of my bathroom time whenever I am in there. Life is so busy, especially with a 2 year old, that it's not very often that one gets to sit down and have 10-30 minutes of alone time. That is why the bathroom is a logical place to get some shit done, literally and figuratively. (Sorry to work blue... or brown.... I better stop here...)

And let's face it, when you're on the toilet it's your time. People tend to leave you alone when you're in the bathroom (well, except for kids) so you can do whatever you want... within reason. That which brought you in there usually doesn't take up too much of your attention, unless you're having a really rough go of it, so it is truly your own private time. Nice and quiet, sometimes a bit smelly, but very relaxing. Thank God Lay-z-Boy doesn't make a toilet, I'd never leave!

The three "extra" activities I most commonly engage in while on the throne are writing, reading and using my laptop. I do a lot of writing in cheap one subject notebooks and have tons of started projects all over the house. There is almost always a notebook within easy reach as I walk (and sometimes run) to the bathroom. The bathroom is a wonderful place to just get ideas and stories onto paper. Since the trip usually ends with paper, it is good for the sake of continuity.

In terms of reading, there is usually a book at both of our toilets, just in case the need to read comes upon me. If I am actually reading a book--which doesn't happen as much as it used to, being a devout audio book listener--I have been known to take unnecessary bathroom breaks, just to get more reading time. You know a book is good when you take 10 bathroom breaks a day and each time you finish, your butt and legs are numb.

The most recent, and now primary bathrooming activity, would be using the laptop. The computer gives me the ability to do many different activities. Whether it is playing a game, checking my Social Media or writing, the laptop is now something that usually is my bathroom companion. I even have a little table in the downstairs bathroom that I set the computer on so I don't overheat my lap. (If you're perverted and your mind has gone there, feel free to insert an internet porn comment here.)

I mention all of this to make another point. Sometimes, as a parent, I truly forget how much influence we have over our children. They sit and watch everything we do, the good and the bad. How many times, for those parents out there, have you heard your child use a phrase or a word and said to yourself "Where in God's name did he/she hear that?" Then you realize it is a phrase you have used your entire life and just never noticed. Some parents forget that children have ears and despite the other twenty activities they are currently performing, they are listening to every word you say. That's why you should really wait and run down your family to your spouse after the kids are asleep. That's some free advice! It will save you some embarrassing moments at the next family picnic.

In addition to copying language, children also mimic behavior. Why does my daughter pick her nose constantly? (I say this with my finger first knuckle deep in my nose.) We are their role models and what we do--there is a good chance they will do it as well. We all hope our children will pick up the good stuff and not the bad but usually it is mixture of both, especially for children under 5. I don't know if it is a good thing or not, but my daughter has definitely developed my need/love to spend quality time on the toilet.

I posted on my Facebook account a couple of weeks ago how, when my daughter announces she has to go to the bathroom, it turns into a scene from the movie "The Jerk." It's the scene after Steve Martin loses his fortune and is writing checks out to pay people back who bought his glasses thing. After a conversation with his girl, he says that he doesn't need anything and starts grabbing random items from around the house, and saying "except this thing". My daughter does something similar, without the dialogue (and without her pants around her ankles.) She just starts grabbing random toys and items as she works her way to the bathroom. The other day she had a cup, a comb, a doll, a notebook and pen. She'll bring a snack. She'll bring a book. Whatever she was doing before the need to go hits her, comes along with her to the restroom.

She grabs whatever she can and marches to the bathroom, arms full. If she can't carry it all she will ask whoever is accompanying her to lend a hand. Once in the bathroom she piles the stuff on the little table/stand we have set up in there. Then she asks me to snug the table up to the toilet so she can play.

The thing that she does the most on the toilet is draw. I have a bunch of scrap paper that I bring home from work and she grabs a couple of sheets and her crayon container and heads in. She'll be in there so long that the kids seat we have set on it toilet leaves grooves on her butt, yet she doesn't seem to mind. It has been amazing watching her squiggles turn into recognizable things. Granted, she is primarily drawing smiley faces, but still I'm impressed.

I don't know if it is wrong or not, but I feel a little bit of pride every time I walk past the open bathroom door and see her so engaged in whatever she is doing. I feel I have opened up the First Stall of her bathroom creativity and hope someday a masterpiece/great discovery of some sort will arise from her porcelain throne. Maybe my daughter will find the cure for cancer during a particularly slow bowel movement. Perhaps she will write an Oscar-winning screenplay or a Grammy-winning song after a Mexican feast gone wrong. All I know is I would love to hear her on stage some day accepting her Nobel prize/Oscar/Grammy and thanking not only her mom and dad, but also Sir John Harrington, the inventor of the flush toilet.

P.S. Don't be creeped out that I have so many different pictures of my daughter on the toilet. I just happened to have the camera handy and was cracked up by what she was doing.