Weekend

Well, This weekend was fun. I visited my grandparents. My mom and I drove up to spend the weekend convincing my grandfather to make good on his promise to take care of the "situation" at our family's lake house.

First order of business: I feel it necessary to define a term. I may at times use cottage and lake house interchangeably. The reason is that cottage is the colloquial family term for a place in Northern Wisconsin that is, in my estimation, far from a cottage. Don't get me wrong. The place is not palatial. In fact, right now it is a sad state of disrepair.

To me, cottage evokes an image of some quaint sea/lakeside bungalow; a log cabin set back in a mature mixed-hardwoods forest; or even an old farm house, lovingly maintained but not modernized. I suppose for the majority of my family this is a semantical argument. For them (living their day-to-day lives in major metropolitan areas) the cottage may well fit the bill. However, for me (also logging hours in metropolis) a place with satellite TV, an internet connection (albeit a miserable dial-up) dishwasher, laundry, etc. is not a cottage.

I will leave my cottage rant for another post ( when I have about five hours to really get it out).

Long story short...My grandfather accepted some of my suggestions and most importantly he agreed to look at a proposal to develop a family website. I am considering taking on the project. Like I don't have enough shit going on. I want to see this happen and if I don't do it no one else will.
Although the development will most likely take months and require 100-500 hundred hours (for my family to agree that is probably a low-ball), I will donate my time and resources.
I see the site as a full-function media/communication portal (think .Mac) for the entire family. I realize most of them will only use the email (email alone would be worth it. I am so sick of all the random emails my family uses. I don't get it. Most of them use a full-featured email client at work/school. But at home it's yahoo or msn; some shitty, free, spam collecting junk). But a calendar, chat client, discussion board and photo/video page are the main features I want. We shall see.

All for now. More on the weekend later.

Tech Blows

OK, so I can't make the Dem. Now link work to save my ass.

It kills me.

Go check our Democracy Now.

Please.

Amy Goodman is a journalistic hero. She rocks; end of story.

Lazy-ass Me

I have been devoting too much time to other blogs/ projects. I really want to focus on this blog. I created it as an attempt to force myself into self-centered writing. Instead I am forever getting sucked back into my political/media work (and of course my "real"job).

I really like the simplicity of Blogger. I am a pretty huge fan of everything Google. I don't want to turn this into a .com site. I want to keep it as straight forward as possible: Just my personal rambling. An electronic journal left open on the bedside table of the web for all to see.

It's hard. I have a hard time forcing myself to write freely; no AP, no CMS. But I am going to revisit this project once-and-for-all. Also, I think I am going to pull down all but a few previous posts. Just start anew. Focus on free-form, unedited babble.

Sounds good.

And where have you beem young man?

It's been awile. I know, I know. People who don't update suck. However, I did warn that I would be gone for awhile...

...Phone call: Must go pick up my sweetie. She has just finished drawing class and needs transportaion. I will post in-depth in an hour or so.

1985

Claire: Look, I'm not going to discuss my private life with total strangers.
Alison: When you grow up, your heart dies.
Bender: Who cares?
Alison: I care.

When the above dialogue was spoken on the big screen I was 12. Back then in took months for a movie to get released on video[tape]. In my neck-of-the-woods it was about six months until it hit the local video store shelf (this was pre national chains). So, I was no older than 13 when I first saw the Breakfast Club. It was mind-numbing. Truly challenging for my young, naive psyche. Most important: It was trendy. I haven't seen the film recently but I remember some of the references, the dialogue and the fashions. Very Eighties. I grew up pretty quick and it wasn't too long before I was some awkward amalgam of these characters. Part stoner, part jock, part art-kid, part manic-depressive, part nerd.

Point being?

Fast forward:

My cousin graduated from high school this weekend. I cried. Big, fat, real, happy tears ( I don't do this nearly enough). My family is tight. My cousins are very close to my heart. I have been told it is unacceptable to compare our relationship to that of "traditional" brothers and sisters but I don't really know any other way to give feeling to my emotional connection to these kids. I say kids because, with one exception, they are all 18 or younger. None of them are stand out trendy (which is good). They are all pretty quirky. All pretty much into being themselves.

The graduate is 18. She was born very premature. Two pounds and a few ounces. She lived her first few months in the hospital. The majority of her time was spent in an incubator. Her parents have images of her asleep in their palms. She was so tiny (she is still tiny). The unfortunate effect of her premature birth was cerebral palsy. She has suffered from a lack of fine and gross motor coordination, slight emotional sensitivity and maybe, maybe a little cognitive delay. She has suffered most from severe sheltering and over-protectiveness.


A is an intelligent, strong, creative, witty and imaginative woman. Her parents, and one aunt in particular, treat her as if she was a fragile, incapable imp. They coddle her at every turn.

She is capable of doing whatever she wants. She could write the great American novel; she could travel the world solo; she could win the Noble Peace Prize; she could graduate Magna Cum Laude in any field she choose; or she could sit on her ass, watch TV and waste her time in some half-assed technical college that has "special needs" programs. They need to cut the cord. She needs to spread her wings.

I need to think without cliche.

There is nothing to say to the parents. I have tried numerous times to convince them to cut her loose on the world, to put her in school (abroad would be best), make her get a job (shit job preferred; something that would send her kicking-and-screaming into college). No luck. They are so afraid of... Who fucking knows what they are afraid of. Suicide, poverty, ungodliness (most likely in the forms of sex, drugs and rock-and-roll; things they know all too well), failure.

Ah, failure. The big fear of all parents. She might just fail. So what? Most of the truly meaningful stuff-of-life comes from failure; just pure, unadulterated, abject failure. It is evolution kicking you in the head saying, "Buck up chumpy. Life doesn't care if you succeed, I don't care if you succeed, but maybe you should. Because nobody else is going to take care of you forever".

On a positive note. One of her graduation presents is a trip to Las Vegas. The trip includes her sister, who is very cool and as-far-as-I-can-see ready to take the world by storm. Maybe this trip could be a turning point. She has never been on a trip without her parents, and while the mothering aunt is sponsoring this trip, she will be faced with many new challenges. I can only hope for the best. While I happen to think Vegas is a monument to the stupidity of American culture, I would even be happy if she fell in love with place and applied to UNLV. It would at least be far enough away from home (unfortunately, the aunt has home in Vegas) to facilitate some personal growth. Also, truth be known, the aunt's daughter really, really wants to transfer to UNLV. She is treading H2O at UWM and is ready to get out herself.

We got her a digi camera. It isn't exactly the camera I would have chose, but I wasn't really in a position to force my will on the gift. I would have chose a more pro-level weapon. (It is my only issue with the digital movement: If you're going to point it, mean it. Shoot like you care). But she loves it. And it will serve her well for what she does with a camera.

I have so many memories of this woman. I have cried, laughed, hoped and feared for her. I will do so for as long as I live. Most importantly I will believe in her. I will watch her grow and I will support her evolution. I am not overly concerned with what path she takes, how she gets where she is going or who she spends her time with. I just want to know that she has lived life like it matters, because it does.

Rewind:

I never officially graduated. I was such a rebellious punk that nobody was going to tell me that school was worth anything. I got myself booted from two traditional schools, one alternative school and one private. It didn't matter. Needless to say, I bailed on college for awhile (that story is being held onto for the novel). When it was time to return, I took the tests, got a GED (no one even bats an eyelash, even though I sometimes feel like I should be ashamed); took the entrance exams, walked into college and never looked back. It didn't matter one bit. High school was a joke. Everything I learned, I learned the right way: experientially. I drank, smoked, ate, smelled, felt and thought my way through. I made some many "mistakes" I couldn't even begin to illustrate them all. I still make mistakes. I fail constantly. In fact I just typed this sentence with many errors. I will have to spell-check this whole post.

Who cares?

I do.

"Prepare the children for the path, not the path for the children".

Degas' Little Dancer

14yrolddancercrop
Originally uploaded by entropicmyopia.

While the MAM curators assumed this was/is the piece we all came to see, they are wrong. It is "the" sculpture. Google Degas sculpture and guess what you'll find. A 14-year-old ballerina. It is good and the mythology behind its in-and-out of the Impressionist shows (pulled from five exhibited in six) is intriguing. It's still not representative of Degas' overall vision (in my humble opinion). His work seriously questioned the morality of the day. His portrayal of woman having the audacity to comb their hair or bathe in front of an observer ( we won't even consider how terrible it would be if that observer was a male).

I don't think it's too much to ask for the MAM to put a little more substance into their exhibits. Art should challenge our assumptions. It should make us stop in tracks and say " Damn, are you sure? I need to think about that for awhile". But then again I'm just some hick from Wisco-proper.

Back from the Dead.

Two day recovery time. I am pissed at myself (sort of).

All-in-all it was a really great Birthday. Languid morning with good coffee, lunch at a new restaurant, afternoon drinks and eventually ENRON documentary. We drank wine. We smoked. I was content.

To fully appreciate this year's observance I have to include the days surrounding my birthday.

Sunday: Great breakfast at my favorite restaurant, Beans and Barley. How could I describe this place to someone who has never been? Post-modern diner; Vegan friendly; convenient market for quick pick-me-ups and such; appealing decor; etc. Obviously, I have an affinity for the B&B. If you ever want to take me out for an informal meal, this is the place.
After breakfast we went out to the community garden we are participating in this year. After two years of living on a farm (hobby, not production), we just couldn't give up a garden. K truly shines in the garden. It is her environment. She is the definitely the project coordinator. I am a bit more passive about it. Growing up with a large, organic vegetable garden most of my young life I approach it a little different. It still smacks of work, wasted Saturdays (ask any teenager made to weed instead of hang-out with friends). I do love having a garden and living in the heart of Wisconsin's largest urban center won't keep me from getting my hands dirty. I'll get into my perception of gardening in a later post, after this new gardening experiment starts to take root (Ha).
After the garden we came home showered, spent a little time together and then I went out with my mom. Point of reference: My mom is not really a mother, she is more like a friend/older sibling. We stopped living together when I was in third grade. We still spent a lot of time together; vacations, extended weekend getaways to the family lake house, trips back-and-forth to her house etc. But we never really bonded in a traditional way. She always has, and probably always will, shown her affection through stuff. She buys me things. Even as a grown man she still "takes me shopping" for my birthday. I have tried to break the cycle, tried to just ignore it. She is persistent. Even when I lived out west she would send things, order from local stores or send money. It's not that I don't appreciate the gifts but sometimes just a nice quiet diner, drinks and maybe some adult, non-work/weather conversation would be good. I think this pattern gives her power. She feels needed and I guess I can do that for her. I just want her to see me as an adult, treat me like a peer and come clean on her humanity. I don't think she's Wonder Woman and I never will. She can still be my mom. And my friend. I want that to be enough.
Anyhow, the stuff.
This year my combined haul ( from all gifters, not just mom) include:
5.1 digital surround sound home theater system for computer.
AirPort Express to torment K with the ability to wirelessly play music in any room in the Apartment. After a third party download I can also play any audio ( DVD, Streaming video etc.), anywhere.
A new suit (still being tailored).
A new sweatshirt (It is a special sweatshirt, more later).
A new Bodum French press.
Money.
However, one of the coolest gifts I got was from K's Mother and Step-father. They ordered me some REALLY good tickets for a Milwaukee Brewers game. I'm not really an overly sporty kind of a guy but this has special significance.
1) I am interested to see a game inside Miller Park. I've never been so it will be kind of cool.
2) The game is versus the Washington Nationals. New team, I'm sure it will give me something to talk about with the sports-minded people in my life.
3) The reason they picked this particular game is for the giveaway. Baseball teams give away crap to get people in the seats. The real money in sports is merchandise and concession sales. I want the thing they are giving away. It is a bobble head doll of a player who was very popular when I was a kid.
4) Most important: They paid attention when I was talking about this "toy" over diner the last time we visited them. That feels great. Her parents ( at least this set) pay attention to me. I am a part of their family. It feels good. I can drink a little wine, start rambling on some geeky topic (like collectible bobble head dolls) and they are cool with it. A present with thought is much cooler than any expensive gift or elaborate party.

Enough on gifts.
My birthday included the on-air debut of the Low-Power FM radio station that I worked to develop. While I am no longer officially connected to the project ( well, not true. I got a call needing some help with some final details), I was very moved to hear them go live. I poured myself into getting that station up. I will post on the station later. It will be a mouthful.

Yesterday, as a continuation of my birthday, my mom took my cousin and I to the Milwaukee Art Museum to view the Degas sculptures. The exhibit travels soon and I have been procrastinating going. I can see the museum from my Apartment and I just don't get there enough. In fact I missed a show I really wanted to see earlier in the spring. Oh well, I saw this and wasn't overly impressed. The work was great but the curatorial decisions were a little odd. I am almost late for a meeting so I will pick this thread up later...