10 Minute Rule

The much ballyhooed false Bowling Green Massacre really reminded me of how little the truth matters these days. I remember not too long ago there were senators openly explaining that it is more important what people think is true than is actually true. Finally I am coming around to accepting that as the new reality. It starts at the top. We have long held deep respect for the Office of the President. As such whatever he says, true or false, carries a tremendous amount of weight and support behind it. Lately Fox News has all but rebranded itself as a spin zone for the president they thought would never get elected.

People are about how they feel and the reality they choose to live in. To be more specific, they don’t care about a whole lot beyond the scope of their own lives and what protects the reality they’ve shaped. To that end, the truth is less useful to the modern individual than ever before. Why not swallow the lie instead?

One of my longstanding dreams has been to live in a warehouse or an old church. I’ve been spamming loopnet and a dozen other sites with searches for the prized unconventional living spot at a responsible price, but no luck yet. Bottom line: having a cool living space matters very much. There is a lot of creativity that goes into designing such spaces, and I believe that (once you deal with the inevitable bug drama) it could be a very good look for me as a person seeking creative flow.

Oh, and it is crazy cool. I’m talking hoop in the house kind of cool. What I truly envision is building out a school with live-in property on the campus, allowing me to engage in my business (said school) 24/7 and be able to interact with the students and staff in a way that reflects the family values nature of the facility. In fact, it could go so far as being a live-in facility itself–an academy in the vein of Charles Xavier… Okay I am getting quite carried away, but I think the discussion about building a school and living on that property has legs.

Then again, maybe I just want the property all to myself and my devious plans…

I am going to limit my interactions with the media for the same reason I stopped watching The Walking Dead. Doing so made me feel sad and powerless. Forget this juvenile argument about how every vote is equal, etc. That just is not true. Every electoral vote is equal and those votes rang in the presidency that has me straight up dumbstruck. I got close to understanding. I felt a flicker of awareness while reading The Chocolate War where it talked about how things always had been and how uncomfortable change made people feel–how those who’d been able to see where they were on the scale and clearly identify who was below them fought to maintain that status quo because it meant they weren’t slipping. I get that part of it.

What I don’t fully grasp is how the need for that type of ‘social security’ outweighs the clear awareness that our literal security in a nuclear globe is being harmed. Trump has a different set of ideas about what is and isn’t real. He is a spoiled rich kid who has never had to deal with the consequences of his actions and still does not. The man openly advised the ‘Nuclear Option’ when it came to a supreme court appointment just a day after there was a question of whether or not his appointee would be expediently confirmed.

Consider the language: Nuclear Option. That means end game politics. I fear that he is a man who believes in end game politics in every sense of the word. In other words, I believe that he lives by the old Autoduel philosophy of ‘The right of way goes to the biggest guns’. This is not a prudent leadership philosophy in a world where using said ‘guns’ will only result in a war of attrition that we are not built to handle. We learned this in both gulf wars. Now we want to start crap with every other dog on the block?

I told a colleague today to look at the bright side of this. If we fear the worst of this administration, we will only leave ourself room for happiness when they fall short of our expectations. I stand by the statement. It is gonna get worse. What really worries me is all of the doomsayers who thought Obama was going to bring us to the end of the world. They thought he was the antichrist. Well, what if Obama did bring us to the end of the world, but they stuck the wrong guy with the bill?

I didn’t post yesterday’s post, a nasty little bourbon infused rant about the presidency. I will do so, and I hope I do so quickly before it goes into that dark little place where all the Monday posts have been disappearing for a time. Fact is, I don’t do well with transcribing my writing to the digital realm. I’m not about that life. Lately I’m about hanging on and trying to manage things the best I can before they fall apart. If it sounds dire that is because it should be. I’m behind on grading, behind on writing, behind on cleaning, and close to the point where all of that seems like it ought to be swept under a rug to start fresh. Call it a life-management bankruptcy. The sad part is the workload is actually manageable provided a basic structure. The problem is I cannot seem to get myself to properly build that structure.

I’m trying. Still Still Still trying so very hard at this in a time where I feel like I ought to be paying less attention to the dozen balls I am juggling and more to the nonsense spewing from the mouths of our political leaders. I can say one thing about that: Hypocrisy is on full display. Anyone who bothers to listen to the Republican rhetoric from 2008 ought to see very clear parallels to how the Dems are behaving. Moreover, they ought to see how the Republicans who condemn said behavior displayed those exact behaviors back in the day and felt completely righteous for doing so and have before and will again.

It is Elephants and Donkeys all the way down.

It isn’t Wednesday and this is not about football, but i thought it might be nice to talk basketball for a few minutes. Now I will preface this by saying I am a Knicks fan. To hear the Carmelo trade rumors fills me with a sense of joy only matched by the realization that so many of the contracts are expiring. Could it be that Phil Jackson has once again worked his magic? I hope against hope for this to be true. I feel like the Knicks, like the Cavs, are teams owned and operated by people I find personally despicable. Liking them feels a little like being a huge fan of shrimp cocktail while also being allergic to shrimp. Its a conundrum. The Knicks are not their owner(s). Instead they are the embodiment of an era and an idea of a New York that never quite could be. I think they have a chance of being more, though. I think they are primed to become a legit trade/free agency destination once again.

All of this thinking in predicated on building a young core around Porzingas. It isn’t often you build a team around a PF, but he is the kind of big that you can do something with–especially once paired with a legit point guard. I’d hoped they’d get a vet, but that is not happening. They gotta go old school Yankee style and build from the farm up.

Here is the point: The beauty of NY sports is homegrown heroes. We want the kids who came in through the draft or worked up through the ranks hard to reach the top. We are gritty folk so we want gritty players in all of our sports. We don’t mind the flash, but we gotta know you can crawl down in the dirt and thrash a little.

Yesterday I drove the boys to Flagstaff in hopes of waking up in the morning to a glorious sledding day. The evening became a slow moving nightmare of tired youth and angry father. I worried, for quite a spell, that I might snap. I did not. At some point during the evening the boys approached humanity. This was temporary, of course. They went back to the follies of youth quite quickly and I was quite through with it all by noon the next day.

All things considered, I had a good time on the slopes. I learned inexpensive ways to get in solid snowplay. I also learned what we do (and don’t) need in order to have a really good time on a budget. By budget I mean far far less than what was actually spent on this particular trip. Final damages: Lost my favorite winter coat, spent a slew on second rate cold gear, three happy kids.

That last bit is what really matters when you boil it all down. One thing I learned: My kids have a strange attraction to 80’s styled music. I blame the Teen Titans. This song by BER was on crazy repeat the whole trip. That is, when they weren’t singing Black Beetles. Maybe I’m raising DJ’s after all…

The anger bubbling inside of me is layered with fatigue and disappointment. My kids are after all, kids. They’ve gotten better over the years but there are times when circumstances are way past reason and the kids become unmanageable creatures who ought to be put to bed…for at least a few days.

 

It started on the way out of the door. We’d long planned a trip to Flagstaff, AZ in order to see the snow. It finally came time and the boys were so beyond basic excitement that it was impossible for them to carry out simple instructions without devolving into giggles and or fights. This translated into the youngest arriving in Flag without his shoes. Yeah, no shoes. Despite three reminders and him telling me disgruntledly that he had them, no shoes.

 

I get excitement. It cannibalizes common sense, leaving a thrill zombie in its wake. By 10 pm that night all three kids were literally spinning in circles as they danced down the hall back to the room. There was no music save for the shouts I was forced to put down time and again before we made it to the room and long after.

 

It is a burden of parenthood to have children who occasionally act out. How you handle that is one of the defining moments of how your parenting is received. There is a razor wire separating good parenting and straight outrage. I am pleased to say that no child was harmed in the events leading to this blog.

 

Well, not yet at least.

I spent a great deal of my life wondering whether or not I mattered to people and actively trying to matter. I am not talking about, ‘what legacy will you leave’ mattering. I mean day to day, I benefit from having him in my life sort of mattering. Yes, this does sound like a God complex, but the truth is more…complex.. than that. This mattering need was grounded in a sense of not mattering and not being appreciated in any real way–especially by the women in my life. Because I did not matter in a significant way in my personal life (from childhood), I wanted to reach out into the world and build that layer of family around me, so that I could make up for all the years I did not feel that in my own life.

Mattering can be burdensome. You stretch yourself thin trying to be of value to everyone. I wound up overextended and often guilty of letting people down. I can honestly say that I matter–actually matter–to but a handful of individuals these days. I count my girlfriend, my kids, her kids, and my adoptive family as the ones who would be affected if I were suddenly erased from the planet. Others would take note and perhaps shed a reflective tear, but the circle of matter is very small. The cosmos would not ripple at my passing and that no longer leaves me sad. See, when you focus on less you can give that less much more, and I feel like I do so now.

I don’t know why I do it to myself, but I spend a silly amount of time reading about the nonsense Trump does. It actually began back after 9/11, 2001 when Bush made his historic ‘with us or against us’ speech sparking the war that eventually gave us Isis. I want to know what is true(ish) I suppose; to have a better grasp on what is being said vs. what is actually happening in the world. I feel like this is more of an issue during a ‘Republican’ presidency, because the truth and facts also seem to have alternative ‘truth’s and facts’ to be hotly contested.

In other words, facts are subjective in an authoritarian regime.

 

Some Thoughts:

1. Gradually developing slurred speech and clumsier hand movements. I do not want to consult dear old WebMD, because it will tell me I have something terrible and fatal.
2. Since making the pledge to write a chapter a week I have written less and less and procrastinated more and more, but my minecraft game is on point.
3. Speaking of which, I am doing the exploded build they published and doing it with the boys. I’ll write a review one day. I’m kind of excited about the build.

I told my students to write a chapter a week. I wasn’t expecting final draft level stuff. I wanted something slightly above word vomit–the core of the story put to page with room to improve in rewrite. I think I sealed the deal, because they all seemed like they were willing to try and because I promised I’d write a chapter a week myself. This is of course easier said than done. I know I have the core story in my head and ready to commit to paper. I just have to get my butt in the chair and get to a place where I am using the little time I have in a more productive fashion. A good deal of my time is lost to side projects and video games and video games serving as side projects. I want to limit those things and start taking better care of my mental health so I have the energy to create the worlds and landscapes I imagine.