Month: November 2018

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personal

Fiddlesticks

Random conversations with the Gymgirl and my son

Gymgirl: Man, you look good.
Me: I was just thinking the same thing.
Her: (smiles)
Me:…I do look good.

Feeling a bit run down cause the boy is waking me up at all hours of the night for no real reason.

Need to get some rest cause the Gymgirl and I are traveling together again, which reminded me of a conversation we had while we were staying at that hotel in Boston and I had forgotten to pack some earplugs for the trip:

Hotel representative: (on phone) Yes, Gymgirl’s an elite member, we’ll send that right up.
Me: Great, thanks! (turning to Gymgirl) You’re brilliant! Cm’here…
(5 seconds pass)
Hotel representative: (on phone) Um, I’m still here. You guys didn’t hang up.
Gymgirl: (bursting out laughing) Write this down for your blog!

Speaking of conversations of the inappropriate stripe, I used to say goddammit a lot for obvious reasons. But the kid was copying me so I stopped. The stopping has helped to a limited degree.

Me: Say, “Oh, fiddlesticks!”
Him: Oh, fiddlesticks!
Me: Great!
Him: (10 minutes later) Goddammit.
Me: Noooooooo! Fiddlesticks!! Fiddlesticks!
Him: (laughs) That’s funny.

A very limited degree.

He’s been staying over my sisters or mother-in-law’s at least half the weekends so hopefully that’ll help.

Gymgirl: We’re keeping him this weekend, right?
Me: Well, legally, I have to keep him for the next 16 years.

Still, the hope is that – at least linguistically – we’re all a good influence on him moving forward.

Gymgirl: OK, dude, I’ll be ready in five minutes.
Me: You’re sticking with “dude,” huh?
Her: Yeah, dude.

Well, that’s the hope, at least…

Location: my desk in the bedroom
Mood: tired
Music: no, there’s nothing not to love about me

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Only go up(side down)

Visiting inVisibleNY

Him: Every restaurant is all you can eat if you keep paying.

I’m continuing to sleep well so I’m gonna try and enjoy it for as long as I can.

Might’ve mentioned that I met the Gymgirl through my cousin so we see her and her fella a lot these days.

She has her own Friendsgiving get-together with her high school friends once a year and invited us along out in Long Island, which was fun. One of her friend quipped the above.

Later on that weekend, the Gymgirl told me about #inVisibleNY, which is/was a pop-up art installation in SoHo.

So we hopped the train, went down to Chinatown so I could get a cheap haircut and walked over to it. It was designed like a cell phone repair shop but didn’t actually fix phones; they just had these cool scenes where you could go in and take pics.

The young lady at the front desk played a very dour and irritated clerk but she was really quite nice.

Woman at desk: Are you really here to fix a phone?
Gymgirl: No.
Her: Great! (hands us a token) Have fun!

We actually did have a lotta fun.

Although most of our fun is really the conversations we have with each other.

“Fun” is a relative term.

Me: I don’t want your mom to hate me.
Her: Oh, don’t worry…she already does.
Me: Waitwhatnow?
Her: (dismissively) Look at it this way: You can only go up.

Of course, we know, there’s always room for more down.

Location: yesterday morning, running outdoors in slippers with a pecan pie
Mood: productive
Music: I have loved you like a fool
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Computers and peanut butter

Things could be so much better

Me: I want to have some dessert but I need peanut butter to eat with it.
Pac: !#$#, I don’t have peanut butter. !@#$!#$, !@#$!#$!#! $!@#$!!
Friend: Hey, I think I have some peanut butter in my purse.
Me: Wait, whanow…?

I hack most things in my life, cause lots of things can be improved upon.

Case-in-point: Whenever I eat something sweet, I eat (a crapton of) peanut butter with it because peanut butter (a) has a low glycemic index of 14, which modulates the overall impact of other, more unhealthy foods because of its density of protein, fat, and fiber, and (b) it does so more inexpensively and conveniently than other options.

At the Friendsgiving, we had our choice of ice cream, Magnolia cupcakes, and pumpkin pie for dessert.

I had all three and was hoping for some peanut butter to go along with it but Pac didn’t have any. However, my friend had some in her purse, which I was both appreciative of and pleasantly surprised by.

Clearly, I need to keep these friends or get a purse.

As suddenly as it came again, the insomnia went away again. Well, the worst of it, anywho. There are reasons why but that’s a post for another time.

This woman wrote this amazing comic where she perfectly described her anxiety and depression; when they went away, she felt an incredible need to be productive.

Replace anxiety with depression with insomnia, and that’s how I feel.

Still sad and pensive but clearer-headed than I’ve been in a while. I feel my teeth again, you see.

Put on a suit, my fave cufflinks, went to the office, met with some clients, made a crapton of phone calls, negotiated a few deals, and then hit the gym.

Giving another lecture in January to boot.

Unfortunately, there are some downsides to this as well; I keep a tiny computer in my living room to record television and stream videos and the fan noise on it – which has always been a dull hum in my head all these years – is now driving me nuts.

Under load, it sounds like a hair dryer. No joke.

Imagine that: A hairdryer just running constantly in your living room.

So – even though I knew it’d throw off my sleep – after the kid went down, I googled how to fix it and found a guy that put in a replacement fan.

Once I got a replacement fan, I cracked open the computer, ripped out the old fan, spliced the wires from the old interface to my new fan, zip-tied it all back together, and shoehorned the whole thing into a universal junction box.

When I have some more time, I’m planning on either 3D printing a proper case for it, or using a Dremel to cut open the old case like the OP did and make that work.

Anywho, I then drilled a large access hole into the back of my media console and strung it all through. It went from sounding like a hair-dryer to not sounding like anything at all. Nothing. Dead quiet.

Unfortunately, I may have kick-started my insomnia again. Spent the other night editing a buncha videos for my coach.

Eh, worth it. It feels good, getting stuff done.

Location: in the living room, enjoying the silence
Mood: accomplished
Music: Vows are spoken to be broken
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Nights out and Friendsgiving

In it, but not part of it

The Gymgirl and I went out to one of her co-worker’s birthday parties.

Girl there: I think you’re the same age as my dad.
Me: He must be awesome.

It was at this Italian joint in Little Italy called Pugliao, which I’d been to twice before. Super loud music and average food but it was fun enough.

A little while after that, my eating group went over to Pac’s place in Queens for a Friendsigiving celebration. Spak managed to turn off the gas at his own pad and also cook some killer food.

I made some traditional Chinese Thanksgiving guacamole while my friend Halfman made some mac n cheese and cornbread but these pics are all from Pac:

Him: If you’re gonna post this in your blog, gratuitously mentioning that I’m single would be dope.
Me: Done. Also, do people still use the word, “dope?”

I’ve been trying to balance my nights at home and out-and-about.

The weather’s getting cold and dark and I don’t want to do much but stay home and do stuff around the house. Try to sleep.

But the holidays are when people invite you places and I’ve got a full social card again.

Work’s picking up again, too. Like before.

My friends the Halfmen drove me and the kid home. He put on Uptight and kid sang most of the song.

When he got to the line that goes, She says, “Baby, everything is alright,” I broke down a little but recovered quickly enough that I don’t think the kid or the others saw.

I feel like I’m faking so much; being involved in the world but only enough to get by.

I’m in it, but not part of it.

Well, not part of the things that don’t really matter, at least.

Me: We’re home!
Boy: I like being home.
Me: There’s no place like it, right kid?
Him: (laughs, sings)

Location: home with the boy
Mood: full
Music: Blow all my friendships to sit in hell with you
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Everything has a place

Most things, anyway

Her: I don’t think that there’s a way to keep those monitors on the desk safely, Logan.
Me: (looking at them) Dammit. You’re right.

I’ve not been sleeping again.

My last entry, wrote about how well I’d been sleeping. I took this new med and it was, like all the other times, a miracle drug. Was able to sleep like a brick for six or seven hours a night for almost three weeks.

And then it just stopped. Like all the other times.

Of course, there are other things involved. Last week was three years after Alison first collapsed.

That went even worse than I imagined it would for a number of reasons that we don’t need to get into now.

And then a comment from a dear friend from the mother’s group made me re-analyze the pad.

See, Alison and I set up one room as a nursery/home office. To this end, there were two huge 27″ monitors in the front room that wasn’t a danger to the kid when he wasn’t walking around.

But he is now. And grabbing everything.

So, with the Gymgirl’s help, I moved Alison’s old desk from our bedroom to the office and vice-versa. I kept it together as best I could but I think the Gymgirl noticed all the sighing.

Gymgirl: You ok?
Me: Yeah.

It’s hard. And to top it all off, the Gymgirl and I are also not really communicating.

It’s like she speaks Russian and I speak Chinese and we can’t make ourselves understood to the other. Ironically, I’m actually one of her few boyfriends that speaks English well.

Well-ish.

But we can’t seem to get through to each other. Which also makes me sad because when we do actually communicate, it’s amazing.

Gymgirl: Tell me about her.
Me: You don’t mind?
Her: Never. What was the most special thing about her?
Me: She organized my home by giving everything a place. She had a place for everything: pillows, tape, forks, everything had a place in the world. And now, I wonder where things are. Where I am in it all?
Her: Maybe I can help.

I suppose that will work out however it’s supposed to.

In any case, remember when I told you that this used to be my favourite time of year?

How long ago that seems.

Everything’s different and I wish it wasn’t.

Location: A white desk in a pastel bedroom.
Mood: tired. so tired.
Music: I don’t like walking around this old and empty house

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Dear Son… 003: Rain happens

Bearing the weight

Boy: Papa, it’s raining.

Dear Son;

As I write this, you sleep in your room. You’re almost three. I’ve written you twice before. I should write you more.

I’ve been sleeping better lately. I dream a lot but I’m a terrible sleeper. Your mother didn’t have this problem. I hope, in this regard, you take after her.

There are things that I hope you’ll take from me, and things I hope you’ll take from her.

The most important thing I want you to take from both us is the ability to bear the weight of the world.

If you ever read through this blog, I want you to tell you two things:

  1. Papa probably made up most of it; and,
  2. I talk about bearing things, quite a bit.

I always thought I could bear more pain – emotional and otherwise – than most. Then I met your mother.

She was, and remains, the bravest and strongest person I’ve ever known. I’ve never met anyone who bore as much as she did.

I hope never to meet another, because to watch it is soul-crushing.

The first time your mother and I spoke on the phone, she was unkind to me. But she immediately called me to apologize and ask how she could make it better.

I told her, “You get points in life for being brave.” I think I loved her at that moment. There is nothing more attractive than bravery.

You’ll meet a lot of people in this life that have all the trappings of bravery: They yell the loudest, act the craziest, threaten the most. They are many things, but they are not brave.

The truth is, we are made in our sleep and by our lonely. Bravery is quiet and happens when no one looks or notices.

And bravery requires you to bear things you don’t wanna: Disappointment, pain, ridicule, and loss.

We’ve lost so much, you and I.

There will be times when you can’t bear it any more and you’ll want to cry.

I want you to remember that rain happens when clouds can’t bear the weight they carry.

Likewise, tears happen when people can’t bear the weight they carry. So put it down and cry for a bit.

It’s ok to cry. Papa cries a lot when no one looks or notices. Papa carries a lotta weight, you see.

Anyway, once you’re done crying, you pick up the weight again. Because life is nothing if not bearing the weight of the world.

The world will teach you things like anger, greed, hatred, and cruelty. I’m sorry for that. I’m so sorry. I wish so many things were different.

But here – in the four walls of our small Manhattan apartment – I’ll try and teach you curiosity, patience, and kindness. With those things and bravery, you’ll be able to bear the world.

And always remember that you get points in life for being brave.

Love,

Pop

Me: Yes. The clouds can’t bear the weight anymore. But it’s ok. They will again and then it’ll be sunny again.
Him: Sunny again… I like the sun. (thinking) Papa doesn’t like the sun.
Me: (laughing) That’s not wrong.

Dear Son… 001
Dear Son… 002: Wait and wish
Dear Son… 003: Rain happens
Dear Son… 004: Understanding is gold
Dear Son… 005: Language is telepathy

Location: home with the boy
Mood: heartbroken
Music: I love you oh so well

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