As written to Pennie

Well, it's 5:38, Adam's off to get burgers, Baz is passed out, the dogs are quiet for once, and I'm listening to Enya cause I'm a little hippie like that. I've started Happy Hour early. I'm pretty stoned. I needed it. Now Baz is waking up: "Mommy! I want the blanket!" You're wearing it, kid. Do not MAKE me leave this chair.

Silent treatment

I've never believed in it. It's one of the most hurtful things (potentially hurtful, at least) you can do to someone. From Psychology Today:

Basically, the silent treatment is a passive-aggressive behavior by which an abuser communicates some sort of negative message to the intended victim that only the perpetrator and the victim recognize through nonverbal communication. It can be explicit or subtle, in private or public, recognizable by others or not, and usually coexists with other forms of abuse.

Read the entire article here. 

5 am bullet-point thoughts

In no particular order:

• The amazing women in my blogging group have dubbed me Dr. Melfi.
• There are always ways you can move forward to be a better person -- for you and for the people around you. If you've fucked up, own it. Then decide how you're going to be better.
• Sometimes you don't realize something until it's too late. The good news is that it's rarely too late.
• A little bit of self-awareness goes a long way.

Read My Mind

Listening to The Killers' classic, the one that got us to Tokyo. It's part of the Baby List: the Spotify playlist we made to welcome Baz into the world.

My God, I've been such an asshole.

Paul Gauguin on art

Art is either plagiarism or revolution.

Cited in this great dharma talk.

Done with Berkeley

I've lived in and around Berkeley for the better part of two decades. Now, as we look at another move, I'm ready to leave this town. It costs a fortune to live here and the bullshit you have to put up with is ridiculous. Sorry, Berkeley -- it's not me, it's you.

The indie rock band cover

On relationships

In the end there doesn't have to be anyone who understands you. There just has to be someone who wants to. - Robert Brault

Far too many people are looking for the right person, instead of trying to be the right person. - Gloria Steinem

Fall in love with someone who makes you glad to be different. - Sue Zhao

There is no love without forgiveness, and there is no forgiveness without love. - Bryant H. McGill

I love you the more in that I believe you had liked me for my own sake and for nothing else. - John Keats

Oasis, "Champagne Supernova"

How many special people change?
How many lives are living strange?
Where were you while we were getting high?

Slowly walking down the hall
Faster than a cannonball
Where were you while we were getting high?

Someday you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne supernova in the sky
Someday you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne supernova
A champagne supernova in the sky

Wake up the dawn and ask her why
A dreamer dreams she never dies
Wipe that tear away now from your eye

Slowly walking down the hall
Faster than a cannonball
Where were you while we were getting high?

Someday you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne supernova in the sky
Someday you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne supernova
A champagne supernova

'Cause people believe
That they're gonna get away for the summer
But you and I, we live and die
The world's still spinning 'round, we don't know why
Why, why, why, why?

How many special people change?
How many lives are living strange?
Where were you while we were getting high?

Slowly walking down the hall
Faster than a cannonball
Where were you while we were getting high?

Someday you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne supernova in the sky
Someday you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne supernova
A champagne supernova

'Cause people believe
That they're gonna get away for the summer
But you and I, we live and die
The world's still spinning 'round, we don't know why
Why, why, why, why?

How many special people change?
How many lives are living strange?
Where were you while we were getting high?
We were getting high
We were getting high
We were getting high
We were getting high
We were getting high
We were getting high
We were getting high
We were getting high
We were getting high
We were getting high

As seen on Facebook

We learn our children. The sound of their breath, weight of their footfalls, curve of their smiles. We memorize the arc of their closed eyes in sleep; we know exactly how their tousled locks will feel under our palms. We witness their joy, their pain. We understand the passage into adulthood. We take that trip with -- but not for -- them.

I looked good pregnant

Harry Chapin, "Dancin' Boy"

When your daddy plays guitar,
You dance without a smile.
Kid you may not have great rhythm,
But you sure got style.
Just four years old and still it seems,
You've got it figured out.
When daddy sings, and then you dance,
The people clap and shout.

Cause, you're my dancin' boy,
And it's so scary how you trust me.
Just one look from you,
And I come pouring out like wine.
Dancin' boy, I'm sure by now that you must see,
Your dancin' means much more to me,
Than any dream of mine.

Yes, I'm so proud when you are with me,
That my heart digs in my throat.
And when you stop to strut your stuff,
My eyes go all afloat.
And when I have to leave you home
As sometimes it must be.
I feel that with my leaving
I leave far too much of me.

Yes, you're my dancin' boy,
And it's scary how you trust me.
Just one look from you,
And I come pouring out like wine.
You're my dancin' boy,
I'm sure by now that you must see,
Your dancin' means much more to me,
Than any dream of mine.

You know the time will come my dancin' boy
When you're dancin' days are done,
And when daddy and his dancin' boy
Will have dwindled down to one.

You know the world will've taught you other steps
To match the march of time,
So you'll have to keep our dancin' days
Dancin' in your mind.

Yes, do your dancin' , boy,
Cause it's so scary how you trust me.
Just one look from you,
And I come pouring out like wine.
Do your dancin' , boy.
I'm sure by now that you must see
Your dancin' means much more to me,
Than any dream of mine.

Harry Chapin, "I Wanna Learn a Love Song"

I come fresh from the street
Fast on my feet, kinda lean and lazy
Not much meat on my bones, and a whole lot alone
And more than a little bit crazy
The old six string was all I had
To keep my belly still
And for each full-hour lesson I gave
I got a crisp ten dollar bill

She was married for seven years
To a concrete castle king
She said she wanted to learn to play the guitar
And to hear her children sing
So I'd show up about once a week
In my faded tight-legged jeans
With a backlog full of hobo stories
And dilapidated dreams

She said, "I want to learn a love song full of happy things."
She said, "I want to learn a love song; won't you let me hear you sing?"
She said, "I want to learn a love song, I want to hear you play."
She said, "I want to learn a love song before you go away."

So I tried to teach her a couple of chords
And an easy melody
But it always turned out she'd rather listen
To my guitar and me
I could hear her old man laughing in the den
Playing stud poker with the boys
While I sang so soft in the living room
Too scared to make much noise
I came one week and the den was dark
And she met me at the door
And we sat on the couch and we sang and talked
Till I could not sing no more
The silence kept on building
Her eyes grew much too wide
And I could hear both of our heartbeats
But there was no place to hide

She said, "I want to learn a love song full of happy things."
She said, "I want to learn a love song; won't you let me hear you sing?"
She said, "I want to learn a love song, I want to hear you play."
She said, "I want to learn a love song before you go away."

Well, I guess you know what happened
God, I never been so clean
Yes, I feel like I'm working in a Hollywood movie
Or living out a good bad dream
And all them pinup girls in that tinsel world
Never touched me like she can
It took another man's wife in the real world life
To make this boy a man

She said, "I want to learn a love song full of happy things."
She said, "I want to learn a love song; won't you let me hear you sing?"
She said, "I want to learn a love song, I want to hear you play."
She said, "I want to learn a love song before you go away."

I guess you know I stayed

The fam

Happy 10th, Jack and Maizie!

Bari Weiss's NYT resignation

I've been worried about the state of free speech for some time now. This stokes that fear. I don't give a damn about Bari Weiss's politics. I care about the First Amendment. Can the Woke people say the same?

I mean, shit. Read this:

My own forays into Wrongthink have made me the subject of constant bullying by colleagues who disagree with my views. They have called me a Nazi and a racist; I have learned to brush off comments about how I’m “writing about the Jews again.” Several colleagues perceived to be friendly with me were badgered by coworkers. My work and my character are openly demeaned on company-wide Slack channels where masthead editors regularly weigh in. There, some coworkers insist I need to be rooted out if this company is to be a truly “inclusive” one, while others post ax emojis next to my name. Still other New York Times employees publicly smear me as a liar and a bigot on Twitter with no fear that harassing me will be met with appropriate action. They never are.

Bullying. Through and through.

On positivity

In a quiet mind, the attitude of yes makes room for greater well-being. - Gil Fronsdal

Today's writing

Steak tartare doesn’t last. When it turns, it turns quick. There lay my fear: a relationship gone sour, a meal languishing unwanted, uneaten. I was nearly a virgin when we started dating, a veteran of aborted connections based more on moments than milestones. I was 30; he was 26. Our first date wended its way back to my place, where I sat on my threadbare couch and flipped open a slim volume of Pablo Neruda. I didn’t give a damn about love poetry. I was terrified of him putting his hands on my body. He wasn’t subscribing to the fear or anything I did to slow the situation. Instead he took the book, placed it face down on the thirdhand coffee table, and walked me back into the bedroom.

By the time we took our first trip to Europe, love received nicknames. I could try to explain the acronyms, but instead I’ll tell you that I cried in London. Several times I’d visited and still I couldn’t make any sense of the Tube. He, who had never been to Europe, got it on first sight, taking us from Heathrow to Kensington after circumnavigating the city only once on the Circle and District Line. The damn tears started before we even checked in. They were born of competitiveness and jealousy, of wishing I could be like him in certain ways: logical, composed. It hurts to envy the one you love. It is emotional schizophrenia; you cannot block or manage the conflicting voices.

Joni Mitchell, "The Last Time I Saw Richard"

Man, this song gets me. I know I've posted it before. I don't care. It has meaning beyond anything I need to share here. Have a listen.

Transitioning

My career has quickly turned from freelance writing to teaching and coaching. I'm thrilled about it. I'm keeping my hand in the writing, but only taking a few select projects. Meanwhile my students are amazing. I couldn't ask for more.

Today

First day without Adam or Baz at home. I have to get Bazzy in a few hours, but right now? The silence with noise only of my own making? Can you say addictive to any degree? Oh yes, you can.

The Lumineers, "Cleopatra"

But I was late for this, late for that

Late for the love of my life

And when I die alone

When I die alone

When I die

I'll be on time.

Relief

When you wake from a bad dream and you realize that's all it was. That feeling. In this dream, Adam and I were in marriage counseling and he was screwing around with the therapist. Then he clung to the car screaming as I drove away at the speed of sound. Definitely a relief to arise.