Continued (aliens)

I never heard back from Mike. I’m starting to think that maybe he was on to something. I mean, he seemed to be pretty serious (about the aliens) and then never got back to me.

He just moved to San Francisco a couple of weeks ago from here in Cincinnati and I’m not too sure how screwed on his thinking cap is right now. I just hope he was reading as I was sending my messages to him even though he wasn’t typing back. Maybe he didn’t want to slow me down. Sometimes I get going pretty fast. I was using my computer and those go pretty fast. Even to San Francisco. I like to call it ‘Frisco, but that really makes people who live there mad so I only do it real quiet. And never on the bus. I think they have a thing there called BART. I wouldn’t say it on BART either. Just ’cause it goes real fast doesn’t mean they won’t get mad.

I wonder if he had time to try the garbage disposal, or if he even had batteries in his boombox.

I liked Mike.

But that’s what happens when a kid from Ohio goes to California: More often than not he gets eaten. I know. I’ve been there. I always take my boombox and plenty of spare batteries just in case. You never…ever…know.

Yours,
Tim

What if you heard a strange noise?

Mike: I just had a strange thought. What if you heard a strange noise from outside your window. You moved closer to see what it was as it got louder and louder. You couldn’t put your finger on what it quite was. Then you realized ugly alien beings were invading.

Mike: That would be freaky as shit.

Tim: What would you do?

Tim: They would probably want to mate with you. or experiment or something. Most likely it’s eating you that they’re interested in. Or something worse.

Tim: Maybe they would be nice. But they might not be. Can they run fast? How about climb walls or fly? Breathing our air may be tricky for them so be sure not to get near water if that’s what they breathe in. uunless water kills them or something like in that one movie, in which case get in water. But then there’s breathing problems for you. You will have to come up sometime.

Tim: When you do they will try to take off your head. When they come down to do this (if they are flying) then you can splash them to kill them.

Tim: But if they are not harmed by water this won’t do any good so you will have to try something else. Maybe they are afraid of certain sounds. Try a crying baby first. Lots of people get freaked by this sound. But it might just make them hungry if they eat people, cause if they do then they would probably like babies best and this would be a bad way to try and frighten them.

Tim: Another good sound to try is a garbage disposal. They are hard to carry around and need electricity so you will need a backpack to carry it in and also a battery pack. Or maybe a recording of the sound that you can play on your boombox (you’ll need batteries for this too) would be better.

*** Auto-response from Mike: I am currently away from the computer.

Tim: Maybe it’s a sound that would not be very obvious to you or me. Maybe the sound of a doorbell. Or cruching leaves. If you want, you could put a bunch of these on a tape for the boombox you are carrying in your backpack and try a bunch out to see what works best. On the other hand, if I were an alien I think that sounds would not be too scary so you might want to try something else. And plus, what if they don’t have any ears?

Tim: Did you think of that already?

Tim: You should forward these instructions to lots of other people and let them know in what order you plan on attempting them. Then when the first few don’t work and you get killed by the aliens, others will not waste time trying the same things (you know, water or sounds) that you did and just die needlessly.

Tim: They may not have any way of knowing how far in the process you got exactly but at least they won’t start at the very first one and waste too much time before getting to one that might work.

Tim: So what do we have so far?

Tim: 1. Air

Tim: 2. Water

Tim: 3. Sounds

Tim:    a. Baby crying

Tim:    b. Garbage disposal

Tim:    c. Doorbell

Tim:    d. Drunching leaves

Tim: Feel free to add some more and let me know. I’m going to send these on to some friends of mine who know about aliens to see what they think too. Good luck Mike.

Tim: Mike?

*** Auto-response from Mike: I am currently away from the computer.

Tim: OK. Write back when you get a chance.

*** Auto-response from Mike: I am currently away from the computer.

Totally Wired

I’m all wired. Not in the normal geeky way, mind you. Not in the excited way, and not in the too much coffee way either. I’m all wired in a totally new and supremely annoying way: via a Holter Monitor.

You see, my heart has started doing this really irritating thing where every minute or so it seems to…ha ha, get this: stop beating for a second and then beat once really hard and then just keep going like nothing happened. Y’know? I mean, what the fuck? Really!

Now normally I wouldn’t really mind, but I’d been thinking that I’d kind of like to start doing drugs on a semi-regular basis again and this may throw a real crimp in my plans. Well this, and the kids. OK, so I really had no real plans to find me some really quality mescaline and go lay in the back yard all night. I hadn’t even thought for a second about how much more I like Scary Monsters by David Bowie when I’m all twitchy on acid. And believe you me, the thought of doing a little X and climbing a tree hasn’t crossed my mind for years. Honest!

So now I’m sitting here at work, all wired up, boxy thingy hanging from a necklace holster, electrodes firmly stuck to five or six spots on my chest (fuck me if that ain’t gonna hurt to take off), and every single iota of my attention focused on every single beat of my heart.

I mean, I’m not really worried. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. I’ve taken really good care of my body over the years. Oh wait, that wasn’t me. That was someone else. Oh well. Here’s hoping for the best.

Prescribed, meet proscribed (the scribe)

Control Loop (Feed-back Diferential)The adventure of a lifetime…my first experience with legitimately prescribed stimulants.

I’m still not sure if this methylphenidate stuff is doing the trick but I’m riding it out. I started at 5mg in the morning and 5mg around lunch and graduated after four days to 10mg each. In a week or so Ill up to 15mg and well see whats what. I’m still trying to detect what, if anything, these little green pills are doing.

I think that I occasionally feel “stimulated” but havent noticed anything out of hand. I think that Ive been more able to focus – or at least to not procrastinate quite as much – but its hard to say. My experiences with drugs (back in high school mostly) were along the lines of: “take some and wait a half hour. If you have even the slightest feeling that reality has not been completely obliterated, take more. Wait another half hour and repeat if necessary. Oh heck, why wait a half hour, just take it all…youre young.”

So that’s where it gets strange for me.

I’m taking a controlled substance EXACTLY as it was prescribed by my doctor. I went in and was totally honest about my symptoms, I took a battery of tests (WAIS and some other ADD and memory specific tests), and this is what has been determined: I’ve got Attention Deficit Disorder.

What I’ve learned about this condition would tend to explain a lot of the trouble I had in school before I wised up enough to drop out. But then so would being completely bored and more interested in life as a rock star than re-writing an English essay.

Its hard to say, I’m not totally convinced that I have ADD, but somethin has to explain the cotton-eating weevils (see previous entry). Furthermore, I’m not totally convinced that, if I do have ADD, this medicine will do anything for me. I’m willing to give it a shot though. Ill let you know how it works out for me.

A decent docent doesn’t

The jumble is what I’m used to.

It’s like cotton. Packed in tight.

Sometimes it gets itchy, but most of the time it’s not so bad.

It’s like a big box of old toys, mementos, shirts, thoughts. It’s like the box is packed tight with cotton.

It’s safe (we can assume) since being so tightly packed, the contents of the box won’t have been damaged all those times that the box was dropped. But what’s the use of even having the stuff in the box if it’s so tightly packed that you can’t find that one thing (your keys) that you just put in there? The problem is that when you put something (that phone number) in the box, it doesnt’ stay at the top. It could be anywhere. There’s no organization. The more you (I) dig, the harder it is to find anything. It’s the fucking cotton. It’s just in the way of everything. But at least it’s soft.

So now I hear that maybe there’s a way to get the cotton out. A way to make the searches for things (keys) go easier. A way for the things placed in the top of the box to stay there. For them to be as easy to find as they seem to be for other people to find in their boxes.

It sounds great, right? I mean, who wouldn’t want their box to be more useful? To be more organized?

But what if all that stuff packed tight at the bottom of the box hasn’t been kept safe and sound by the cotton?

What if there are weevils way down there in the box and they’ve been eating?

What if some of those things (toys, shirts) are gone forever? What if they never really got put into the fucking box in the first place? What if there’s been so much cotton in the box for all these years that things (keys) that I put in the box didn’t really ever find a place? Maybe it will be like Geraldo and the empty tomb.

If that’s the case. Well, is cotton really so bad?

But the weevils. I worry about the weevils.

Not a Neighborhood Guy

So apparently weather like this means one thing for men in my neck of the woods: wash your car. I never got the memo. Luckily I picked up on what was going on through my amazing powers of observation and did ours too. Whew! Almost found me out. It’s bad enough that I don’t know a damn thing about cars and don’t really care. To be the only guy on the block not out scrubbing it to a painful shine in a bright sunny day…well I’m really not sure what they’d do to me.

Who would have seen it coming?

In what I can only imagine to be a hilarious and nearly tragic chain of events culminating in a grand crash and a kind of splash, I rushed to the dining room to witness the following scene:

  • Demon #1 (4 1/2) with one foot in a toy dump truck and the other halfway to a dining room chair.
  • Demon #2 (19 mos) standing with one of his sister’s dress-up dresses on, completely drenched, a little too freaked out and surprised to even be screaming yet. Just sort of whimpering.
  • Four Foot high stereo speaker (until recently the home of a fish tank) rocking back and forth.
  • Goldfish flopping around on a floor completely covered with water and little blue gravel.

I think everyone is ok now. The fish is in new water. The kids ate better lunches than they have in forever (probably ’cause they’re still in shock). The floor is completely mopped and most likely cleaner than it’s been in months. I’m ready for a nap or a bath. I hope J comes home soon.

Uncle Me

I’m an uncle for the first time. She’s beautiful. I want to go see my little sister and her new baby so badly. Soon. Maybe three weeks or so. Beautiful.. Both. Just beautiful.

I’m off from office work this week. I start the new job on Monday and last Friday was my last day at the TV station. I’ve been taxiing kids around this week while J tries desperately to finish collecting data for her dissertation. We’ve been meeting at 5 for dinner the last few nights just because if we don’t we won’t see each other all day. We leave the house at 8am and see each other for an hour for dinner and then she teaches until 9 or so. It’s great that she is getting so much work done. Her shit is always the first to get put to the side because it doesn’t bring in the immediate reward of a paycheck and that sucks. I mean shit…her work actually means something. She is the one that is doing good work for the world…trying to make a difference in some way. I’m just a web drone, like a million other web drones. I like the work fine, it’s just not doing anything to make the world a better place. I wish I could get a gig as webmaster for some really great activist web site.

Here’s a cool one: http://axisofjustice.com

Kick Ass Mama

I have a deep and strange love of kung fu. I’ve just started studying again, after a four year break to have my two children. I have been back to kung fu for 1 month now. And, here’s what I’ve discovered – you should not mess with a woman who has given birth.

I started studying kung fu when I was in my early 20’s. I was the weakest link in my class; my classmates cheered the first day I was able to do 20 push-ups. They had all done the required 100 the year before. I did break someone’s glasses once, but only because he stepped the wrong way when I punched him (poor big-ego boy). Over the years, I developed good skills, though I never got very strong.

Then, I took a break to have kids. My first birth was scary. Labor was only two hours, and very intense. There was an asshole doctor and a midwife in serious need of assertiveness training. I spent 3 hours of being stitched with no painkiller, fantasizing about kicking the doctor in the head (he was, after all, right between my legs), but the proximity of his needle to my most sensitive zones deterred me. Wicked pain, yes, but I survived, and learned a little about assertiveness.

My second birth was everything we didn’t expect. Rather than being even faster than the first, it required 8 hours on pitocin (a labor inducer) to happen. It HURT. It lasted what seemed like forever, and I couldn’t have made it a single second longer than I did without medication.

The room was full to the brimming with supportive friends and childbirth helpers. This is important. There were WITNESSES, and lots of them. They were reverent, supportive, calming, and utterly silent in the moment’s of my son’s birth. Since that time, they have all spoken to me about what they saw, and how they experienced my strength.

When my son reached 6 months old, I was desperate to study kung fu again. I found a teacher and a school, and I get to go (a measly) two times per week. In those few hours per week when I am in kung fu class, I am a changed woman. Where I used to punch, and feel pain in my hand, I now punch and see the punching bag (full body size and weight) jerk backward. Where I used to kick and see flexibility, I now kick and see the bag actually lift off the ground. I feel superpowered.

Am I really superpowered? I don’t think so. I’m sure the folks in my class are still stronger than me. I’m not a muscular person, and I don’t think childbirth has changed that. But, the other day I had my first two hour class. After an hour, I thought I wasn’t going to make it. I was fatigued, and thirsty, and thinking of my babes at home waiting for me. But then, I thought, ‘I built and birthed two babies. This is nothing compared to that. Bring it on!’ I kicked harder, I punched harder, I moved faster. I made it through the second hour with finesse.

Now, when I’m getting weary in class, I not only think about my children, but I also think about my friends who have built babies. We are invincible. Take my friend who built two nearly 8 pound babies at once, and birthed them vaginally with half an epidural. Don’t mess with her. And my friend who birthed her second child in her shower – accidentally – with only her partner in attendance. And my friend who arrived at the hospital minutes before her child’s birth, and who walked right past triage and gave orders (that were followed) to all medical personnel in the area. And my friend who carried a child in her belly for 9 months and found it so easy she was nonchalant (until the home birth, in which she cussed a lot and demonstrated phenomenal strength). And, none of my friends are the exception (well, okay, exceptional in some of the details); every person you meet was built and birthed by a woman. Every mother you meet is super-powered.

Don’t mess with me. Not only do I have the power to build a person, but now I’m also conscious of what kind of strength it takes to do that. My body can do and take more than I ever imagined possible before I had children.

Many people say that you quickly forget the pain of childbirth because “the end result is so worth it.” I don’t want to forget. I won’t forget. And, when I look at other mothers, I’ll remember then, too.

And, if you’re a nasty, evil person, beware – the next person you try to victimize may be a Mama, like me.

Dear Husband

why does it have to be so very hard to leave the house? i’m going to use disposable diapers, just for today, since the diaper bag is already packed. don’t you think our new kitchen will hold one of those fancy restaurant ovens? the freezer was open all night. i’m really tired and woke up with a headache again. and, we’re running to late to advertise for a mother’s helper. what’s wrong with that picture? why is it all like this?

your “wife”

Dear “wife”,

I love you. Hang in there. Things will get better.

Yes our new kitchen will hold one of those restarurant-style ovens. I’ll order one today.

Are you worried at all about having so many headaches? Is it stress?

It is all like this because we are trying to do things the right way in a world that only knows wrong ways. This makes the right ways much harder.

Life would be easier if you dropped out of school and devoted all of your time to cleaning the house and taking care of the kids. I’ll take night school courses in Business Admin and get an MBA in a couple of years.

After working my way up the corporate ladder either at Scripps or Procter & Gamble, I will start having an affair with some bimbo at the office because the life I decided to lead turned out to rob me completely of my soul. You won’t care too much because you will have already decided that I’m a total asshole.

After trying for a couple more months to socialize with our real friends (the ones with passion, and values, and vision),
you will have determined that it is too much work and that PTA shit only takes a couple of hours a month. You will meet some other mainstream moms there and take up smoking because there’s no reason not to. The only social life you will have will be comparing which stores have the best prices.

You will soon forget entirely that you once had a personality and passion.
You will get drunk at lunch one day with one of the other soccer moms and tell her that you used to call yourself a witch. She won’t really know if you are serious but will laugh uncomfortably anyway. At least you don’t have to worry about the environment any more: Your minivan getts pretty good mileage.

We will continue to have sex every once in a while, but only because if we don’t want the other to realize that we don’t really like them very much anymore. One bonus: It will continue to feel good to have an orgasm. The guilt and self loathing comes after, but during the actual orgasm things will seem pretty good.

So hang in there. Things are really going pretty well. Now, if we can just figure out how to stop spending money…

xxxooo,
Your “Husband”