10-23-13 - Baby Baby Baby

The Buddha was a baby abandoner.

His so-called quest for enlightenment started immediately after his first child was born, at which time he saw a future of changing diapers and not sleeping and saying "yes dear" and he got the fuck out of there. Yeah, I see what you did Buddha. I'm on to you.

Lots of the so-called "great men" of history have been baby-abandoners. Society has taught me that as long as you are famous, you can cheat on your wife, punch people, abandon your children, and just generally be a lout and nobody will care. In fact you will be celebrated for having "strong passions" or some shit like that. Hey, the rest of us have strong passions too, we just have some fucking morality and control, you scumbags.

There is a sort of panic that strikes many parents once you settle into life with baby. You feel very trapped. Not that having a baby is such a bad thing, it's not about that, it's not like "god this sucks I need to get out of here", it's just the realization that your life plan is now locked.

I, like most people I assume, have always had these fantasies that maybe I would drop everything and do something completely different with my life. Maybe I would quit my jobs and just go be a beach bum for the rest of my life. Or maybe I would go to wall street and work really hard and get rich. Or maybe I would try to be an actor. Who knows, all these absurd unrealistic fantasies in the back of my mind. But somehow it was comforting to think that even as I was grinding away drearily towards death in the life of a salaryman, maybe I could drop it all and go do these things. Baby puts an end to those fantasies. I can't ever drop it all now, I have to keep working, support the family, have to be responsible, and it's that prison of the future that creates the panic.

I know many dads that wouldn't mind having another baby; they love babies. The moms immediately say "awww hell no". These are clearly couples where the dad did not do much of the baby work.

Baby has gotten incredibly cute. She lights up and smiles when she sees us sometimes; it's like an instant kick in the stomach of happiness when the baby does that big smile at me, no matter how pissed I am at her it just melts away.

It's a good trick. It's so irresistable when someone just blasts a huge smile at you. I suppose that some adults use it to, like those really bubbly Southern Belle types that are just beaming huge smiles at everyone.

I think our baby has some kind of hyperactivity problem. I hope it settles down before she gets older. She's developing incredibly fast, she's super active, constantly energetic and engaged and needing stimulation. On the one hand it's encouraging (I'm glad she doesn't have brain damage) but god it's exhausting. We go to some baby play groups, and in comparison all the other babies are just sloths, they sit there and stare off into space. Our baby flops around smashing everything like a tiny Godzilla.

10-17-13 - My TV Bed

In my living room, I have a bed instead of a couch.

Everyone who comes in looks at it funny. Some ask "what's that for?". Most refuse to sit on it and wind up leaning against the wall or something instead. I suspect that they're afraid it's used for sex. Which yes of course it is, but if it was a couch that would be used for sex just as much; every surface in the whole house is used for sex, and hell some of the outdoors too. The fact that it's a bed doesn't really change that.

The primary purpose of the bed is to give me a way to watch TV without hurting my back. It's wonderful. It's really good for me. I have the TV mounted up as high as possible on the wall (*), so I can lie flat on my back, with my neck straight, not curled forward. In fact I use a little lumbar support to get slight lordosis. It's amazing therapy. You can't go and do 15 minutes of physical therapy and then sit at a couch in horrible posture for 2 hours and expect anything good to happen; back reform is about being in good positions *constantly*. Always always, never ever slouching or head-forward.

(* = it would be even slightly better to have the TV on the ceiling. I started looking into projectors that I could point straight up, but it turns out that projectors can't be tilted more than 15 degrees towards the vertical or something retarded like that. WTF.)

Anyway, Tasha hates the bed for various legitimate reasons, but I fiercely cling to it. It occurs to me that my love for it goes beyond just the comfort and postural benefits.

The bed has become a symbol for me of my non-conformity. I love that when we have other suburban moms over they're kind of freaked out. I hate how fucking generic and suburban I've become, how mild and normal.

I've always been so opposed to the idea of doing things because of fitting in. When someone tells me "you can't wear ripped jeans" or "you have to weed your parking strip" or whatever; why? why do I have to do that? Because some fucking suburban assholes will tsk-tsk me if I don't? fuck them! Let them get their panties in a knot if they want to, I'm not doing anything that hurts them. Sure I wind up conforming most of the time just because it's easier and I'm very lazy; I don't wear weird junk anymore because I just don't want the trouble of the interactions it creates, I prefer to dress like everyone else so I can just slip through the world un-noticed. But fundamentally I'm so opposed to doing anything just because "you're supposed to", because society has some fucking retarded ideas.

So I cling to the TV-bed as my fuck-you to what I'm supposed to do. It's the only way that my home is bohemian and free the way I really want it to be.

You want a hot tub in your living room? Great, sounds fun. You want a pile of bean-bags and throw pillows? Cool. You want to just draw on your walls with markers? Yeah. God everyone's home is so fucking boring, oo you're so good at copying the fucking magazines.

I realized there's a challenge/filter aspect as well. I like the idea of freaking out the uptight conformists because it lets me know right away that I don't like them. If you won't sit on my bed with me, you're no friend of mine. All through my youth I used various forms of challenge/filter. I would aggressively question people who were being irrational, and if they couldn't take the heat and stand up for their reasoning, then they're not for me. I would use curse words and mock religion. I would dress weirdly because anyone who judged me by my clothing was too superficial for me to bother with. (**)

Of course the result of all that was that hardly anybody ever passed my tests and all I did was alienate myself from society.

(** = advice to my children : don't try to be different. Nobody likes someone who's unique. Just try to fit it in, do what society wants. That doesn't mean that you have to just be a drone and conformist, but if you're going to stand out, do it in the societally approved ways. You can be a "bad boy" or a "rebel" which are totally conformist stereotypes; people like that, they want to be able to judge you and know where you fit. And it's much better for you, it will give you more friends, more lovers, more careers. Don't challenge people and be disappointed when they fail; know that everyone sucks but take what you can from interacting with them anyway).

I'm keeping my TV-bed.

10-17-13 - Drinks

I can't stand talking to sober people. Ugh, they're just so fucking boring, so phony. Oh yes everything is fine, life is great, I'm doing some home improvement and checking my property values; do you see this new gadget I bought? some horrible Hollywood move is out. Ugh. People trying ever so hard to be "clever" and "witty" and one up each other and act like we're all having such a good time. We're not.

I much prefer talking to drunk people. I like people in the "I love you man" stage of drunkenness, when you finally are allowed to touch each other (dear god, a man making physical contact with another man, we can't possibly clap each other on the back unless we're drunk or playing sports). Then a little bit of honesty starts sneaking out, you finally get to hear something more than the facade of "everything is okay". You get the "I hate my job / I'm afraid of being fired" or the "I think I hate my children" or "my wife is cheating on me and I wish I could watch" or whatever craziness. When a great song comes on will we sing along?

These days when I consider having a dinner date with another couple, part of my filter is "do they get drunk?". Will we sit around unhurriedly for a few hours and get progressively soused and finally open up and start to have fun? Because if they don't drink it's just going to be tense and awkward and boring. No thank you.