2010

How do you celebrate the new year when you have a baby, no friends in town, and one of you has to go to work the next morning? Like champions, that's how.

Sarah and I have a New Years Eve tradition of eating an ice cream cake from Dairy Queen. I guess I should clarify that... We don't actually eat the whole cake in one night. We tried doing that when we first began this tradition and the sugar seriously messed with us both. I woke up two hours later feeling like I was going to have a heart attack and Sarah was yelling in her sleep because she was having some messed up nightmares. And I don't even want to get into the gastrointestinal side of things with how that much sugar affects the body. Anyway. Now we just have some of the cake and save the rest for later (aka tomorrow). Seeing as how there don't seem to be any Dairy Queens within a reasonable distance of Durham, though, we made our own ice cream cake this year.



It was scrumtrulescent. Peanut butter cup ice cream with melted peanut butter and milk chocolate shavings piled on top = taste explosion.

And what should accompany such a classy dessert? Well, a classy beverage of course! So while other revelers consumed their mixed drinks and celebratory liquors, we both put on our most formal sleeveless t-shirts and drank Coke Zero from the finest crystal we own.



As with any classy/sophisticated/drink-from-a-can beverage, you gotta swirl it around to release the aroma.



It was a vintage 2009 which had been aged to perfection (read: packed with chemicals and preservatives in order to maintain its flavor through even the most devastating nuclear fallout).



We also spent the most blissful hour and a half of our night watching Matilda. It's the movie adaptation of the Roald Dahl book of the same name. I love it (despite the fact that it is meant for 12 year olds) and Sarah was kind enough to have given it to me as a stocking gift for Christmas.

She thought that I looked like one of the characters in the film. I disagree.



Notice my less than pleased expression and how my shoulders are slumped forward in disagreement. Sarah has no idea what she's talking about. This kid doesn't even have a beard.

Speaking of which -- I freaking love my beard. It's so long and bushy and luxurious. I want to keep it forever and ever. Or until Sarah decides to shave it while I'm sleeping some night. Anyway. Beards are the best.

So there it is. The best possible start we could give to a new year and decade. Norah slept through all of the festivities because she's a baby and that's what babies do. Oh well. As long as the world doesn't end in 2012, she'll have plenty of opportunities to celebrate New Year's Eve as she gets older.

Hope you all have a good night and that the new year is off to a good start in your lives. Each day, week, month, and year is a blessing from He who controls the clock. Don't take it for granted, dudes... Live it well.

Stay Gold!

MMK

Family Christmas

We had a lovely first Christmas of three.

...The stockings were hung by the kitchen counter with care:


On Christmas morning, we had Banana Nut Muffins and opened our stockings before we got ready for the day:


Then after some showers we were ready to open presents! Thanks to family for the thoughtful Christmas gifts. We'd like to say Norah really enjoyed her gifts too, but I have to admit she was more entertained by the wrapping paper. She had a minor melt down at one point due to sleepiness, but overall, we had a really good time.



Reading about the birth of Jesus, kid version:


A new i-run for Poppy:


We spent the early afternoon cooking while video chatting with MK's family. Once the food was prepared, we headed over to our friend's house. Their family also lives far away, and they have a little one who is a month and a half. We shared a meal and enjoyed each others' company. Having such great friends is a definite blessing.

Our family on Christmas (sorry, this is taken about 5 minutes before we started Norah's bedtime routine. She clearly does not look impressed):


Today I bought a Sterilite Ornament Box and took down the Christmas tree/decorations. It was a little sad, but I also received my last Christmas gift (yahoo!):


We love you all. Hope you all had a blessed Christmas.
Hugs.

What This Means to Me

My God was born weak and powerless despite His omnipotence. Impoverished and cast aside. Into a world of pain and suffering and perpetual back-stabbing. Of a humanity which has proven itself to be more of a destructive and corrupting force than benevolent one.

The fact that my God would leave His place on high to inhabit a place so low is almost incomprehensible. That someone so worthy would come to live among the worthless and, in the process, devolve into what I wish to evolve out of is beyond my understanding.

I worship a God who does not fit into my logic or appreciation of the way things ought to be, and for that I am thankful.

What a beautiful God there must be.

Stay Gold. Merry Christmas.

MMK

Booze: Part II

I have decided to take a strong stand against alcohol in my life. I'm Straight Edge -- a teetotaler.

My choice to live this way has very little to do with anyone other than myself. I did not make the choice to reject alcohol based on what my friends would or would not think of the lifestyle, nor did I think I was putting myself on some higher level of living by choosing to no longer imbibe. I just didn't want alcohol to be a part of my life anymore. The choice was entirely about my life and how I wanted it to be lived.

The funny thing is that a lot of other people somehow don't (or won't, or can't) understand that. Which is shit, really, because they expect me to understand them and their choices.

I have dealt with a lot of people making assumptions about my opinions of them after they hear that I refuse alcohol and think the substance to be entirely vile. The fact that I'm Straight Edge has probably been more of a barrier in my effort to build meaningful relationships with others than it has been a help. Granted, I do choose to use fairly strong language when I talk about alcohol (i.e. "entirely vile"), but then again, I use that sort of language when talking about all sorts of things. I'm a strong-language type of guy.

I guess I just don't understand why people can't understand that I don't judge others based on their choice to drink just because I have chosen not to. I don't understand the assumed dualism that comes with any strongly held viewpoint. For example, why is it assumed that I hate drinkers just because I'm not one? Or that I hate Republicans just because I'm a socialist? There's an assumed interpersonal conflict that comes with the adoption of strong opinions. If you're passive or apathetic, though, you're assumed to be "open" or "accepting." Perhaps even relativistic. But I think I can be all of those things and still be outspoken about my thoughts on alcohol. Having an opinion does not make me unable to appreciate people who don't share that opinion.

I'm comfortable saying that a large part of me is defined by my adherence to the Straight Edge because I know what that means. It's clear to me how I incorporate the Edge into my daily life and how I am influenced by its axioms. I guess I'm uncomfortable having other people define me by the Edge, though, especially if they are not Edge themselves. Because to them (and from the outside), it's not something that seems very inclusive. The whole idea of Straight Edge is the rejection of things which are common place in our society. The pushing away of detractors in order to live a more focused, directed, and pure life. Again, it's about me. My life. Not yours or anyone, nor the decisions you make. But, if you don't understand that, you're not going to understand that I can believe something for myself without necessarily believing it for everyone else.

Here's the deal -- I judge the substance itself, I don't judge people who choose to use it. Unless, of course, their use of the substance somehow negatively impacts someone else. In that case, I certainly judge the individual. But who doesn't? Even those who drink would judge that sort of behavior. For me, though, it's not about if others drink or not. What really matters to me is that we have this substance, alcohol, that plays such a big part in our society. That is overly prevalent (especially in high school and college) and has created a culture which pressures people into situations and relationships where the substance itself becomes more central to things than the people involved. It bothers me that alcohol seems to have become bigger than the people who engage in its use. Not to mention the role alcohol plays in hundreds of thousands of assaults, rapes, robberies, and deaths in this country every year. It just seems to me that alcohol is a substance which has become, on some levels, uncontrollable. Now if you think you can control it and use it responsibly, then I've got to trust that you can. But for me, even if I think I could use it "responsibly," I wouldn't feel right about using a substance which is so heavily correlated with irresponsible behavior. So I choose not to use it.

I get a lot of questions about Straight Edge from people who are less interested in hearing an educational answer than they are with asking a zinger, "gotcha"-type question. "Oh, so it's about living a pure life and trying to be healthy? Well why don't you stop eating fast food? Heart disease kills more people than alcohol..."

The point isn't that I'm ever going to be able to purge myself entirely of bad or unhealthy things. If I did, I wouldn't ever watch TV, use the internet, drive a car, or play a physical sport. All of these things have addictive or harmful potential, just like alcohol. The point is not that I think anyone who drinks alcohol automatically devolves into a date-rapist who drives drunk on his/her way to the raping. Some very important people in my life consume alcohol "responsibly" and in a way which I am hard-pressed to critically condemn.

I've simply chosen to purge myself of this one thing in life which I have seen abused so heavily by my culture that I can see no other way in which to deal with the substance that to reject it entirely. Some people refuse to eat fast food because they're concerned about their health and want to maintain a certain body image. Other refuse to watch TV because they say it doesn't stimulate their brains and they'd like to pursue something more intelligent. I refuse alcohol because it invariably interrupts the human ability to reason clearly and with focus, something which I consider to be essential to the human experience. The social statistics related to the use of alcohol in our society are simply supporting facts to this basic refusal, as are the issues I have with the over-pressuring culture associated with alcohol.

So that's where I'm at right now with the Straight Edge. It is and will continue to be a big part of my life and how I see the world, but it's never going to be a big part of the relationships I develop and maintain with others. The only relationship it does matter in is my marriage. But, since the vast majority of people in this world are not my wife, then it shouldn't matter to them whether or not I think alcohol is a waste of time. Get over it, dudes. Don't think you're special enough for me to waste my time judging you 'cause you decide to fuck your life up with booze.

If you think I'm judging you for drinking, you're probably not comfortable with your decisions about alcohol in the first place. My choice to live substance-free is less like a finger pointing and waving at the outside world than it is a mirror in which the rest of you can see yourselves and your choices clearly reflected for what they actually are.

Okay.

This is ramble-tastic and probably not worth reading anymore. Also, just to be clear, it's not really directed at anyone who actually reads this blog. This is not a passive-aggressive swat at any of you... Just some thoughts I've had for a few years that I finally decided to write down.

Oh well.


Stay Gold,

MMK

Booze: Part I

(I decided to write the following as a precursor to a commentary I'll soon be writing on the Straight Edge and how it affects my relationships with others.)

I've been Straight Edge for nearly seven years. I was a non-drinker for eighteen years before I chose to imbibe. My time as a drinker spanned my half of my freshman year and entire sophomore year of college -- a fairly short span within the bigger time line of my life, but an important span given the point in my life at which it came.

I didn't drink in high school because I didn't see the point of it. A lot of kids seem to think that "because I can" is a good enough reason to do things like that, but I never got that. Also, I respected my mom too much to do something that I knew would have disappointed her. We never had any alcohol in the house when we were growing up, so it seemed unnatural that I would want to pursue it outside of the house as I got older. I guess it was an unknown thing, on some levels, which I was fine leaving alone.

I started drinking in college because I got tired of telling my friends "no" when they'd ask if I wanted to "party" with them. Also, alcohol became less of an unknown once I got to college. I became something in which I have no explicit interest, but which I really couldn't escape given my living environment and the people with whom I spent my time.

My first drinking experience was odd. My friend Tim asked if I wanted any alcohol for the night. Initially I declined like normal, but later talked myself into thinking that I might as well go for it. I didn't know what I should drink, though. Tim bought me vodka and orange soda, which I mixed and drank from the two-liter soda bottle. Not a very manly drink, I guess, but what did I know?

It's important to note at this point in the story that although I've since turned my back on vodka and alcohol in general, I still love orange soda. That's probably not actually important to note, but I thought I'd throw it out there. Orange soda is my preferred drink when I choose to gamble. This is because casinos distribute soda for free and orange soda is not something I generally drink on a regular basis. Hence, it's novelty when gambling. I haven't been to a casino in five years, though, and don't plan on returning to one anytime soon. Perhaps I should find a new and different event with which I might associate orange soda.

Anyway. I got drunk on vodka and orange soda and started feeling all funny like drunk people do. I remember thinking "hey, this feels sort of weird, but I still don't really see the big deal." My friends all thought it was awesome that I was drunk, though. They made this point repeatedly the next day. It was the first time I was really able to participate on a non-observatory level in the "on man, I was so wasted last night" conversation which happens over 1pm lunches the day after a group of college dudes drinks together. So that felt sort of rad. So then I decided that I should keep drinking.

I should point out that I never drank after that because I enjoyed the taste of alcohol. I drank only to get drunk. I still didn't see the point of drinking otherwise. I have the sneaking suspicion that most college kids don't actually see the point of drinking, but that they make drunkenness the "point" in order to justify their choices. There is no point, really, but they create one because they don't have the sack to go against the norm. At least I was normal in that regard, I suppose. It's probably one of the last times I was "normal" in relation to the people in my social circle. I've generally been the outlier in one regard or another since then.

I decided to stop drinking because I grew up and realized that I had no real reason to drink. I remember sitting around a fire at my friend's house one night during the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college and drinking a lot of alcohol. I didn't feel drunk, though, and I was angry that I wasn't drunk. So, I stopped drinking for the night. Thinking over it the next day, I was sort of angry with myself for being so angry about not being drunk the night before. What right did I have to be mad about not being drunk when I didn't even really like alcohol in the first place? So then I decided that I should stop drinking entirely.

Some people have alcohol abuse in their families. Others have very traumatic experiences with alcohol which make them choose not to drink. My choice was not necessarily driven by either of these things (though both have inspired my decision to remain Straight Edge). More than anything, I guess my choice become Straight Edge was a result of my acknowledgment of the fact that I had been illogically choosing to drink for the two years leading up to my sobriety. It's one of the few "a-ha" moments that I can point to in my life and definitively say that I was more mature after that moment than before (in my own perception, anyway).

So now I'm Straight Edge and I will be until my life is over.

Hence... Stay Gold.

MMK

Silence.

I don't remember the last time I was this thankful for peace and quiet. The last 24 hours has been memorable but not enjoyable.

The three of us have been trading germs and fighting off the cold for the last week or so. Poor Norah has had a snot fountain for a nose the last 4 or 5 days. MK and I thought she was getting better. Last night we went through the normal bedtime routine, and Norah went down for the night without a fuss. However, much to our surprise, she woke up a couple hours later screaming. Most of you know...this is not normal for our little one. Norah will usually go down for the night around 7:30 and not wake until around 4:00 in the morning for a feeding. MK and I went in to console her. Norah's face was flushed and when I put my head against hers to snuggle I knew she had a fever.

Anyways, to make the story short, we are blessed to have a doctor who gives out her cell phone number to first time parents. She was very reassuring and calmed my nerves. The three of us didn't get much sleep last night. Norah would scream every time we tried to lay her down so for the first part of the night, we held her while she slept. Then we got smart and pulled the car seat out of the car. I'd say we are running on about 3 - 4 hours of sleep. Eeek. But we were able to take Norah to the Urgent Care Clinic this morning - she was diagnosed with an upper respiratory infection and an ear infection. Nothing too serious, but she's now on an antibiotic to hopefully clear up the ear infection. So I'm hoping...no, scratch that...I'm praying tonight is a better night (so far, so good).

Other news? MK and I aren't too great at waiting until Christmas to give/open presents. Per MK's suggestion, I opened up a present tonight. He got me a sweet new pair of kicks. Perfect for work! Thanks hubbs, you're the best!

Work is going great. My boss is super nice, I've connected with my shift co-worker, the tasks are easy, and the hours allow me to be a mom. What more could I ask for? I still struggle with the fact I'm not really using my degree or adding a ton of money to our savings account...but I know where I'm at right now is exactly where I'm suppose to be. And that, is such a great and welcomed feeling.

Oh, and the silence tonight is not only from Norah (actually) sleeping but is also from the residents being on winter break! HOORAY! I LOVE this time of year! Hubbs & Norah...get ready for massive amounts of family hang out time! :o) I'm excited for our first Christmas as a family of 3! We will definitely post pictures.

I'll leave you with one of me and the babe. I love her so much.

Warm Clothes

The recent downturn in temperatures here has us bundling up and trying to stay warm. It's also made Norah a snotty, cold-ridden mess. We've begun to employ her fleece winter sleepers during the night.

Great-grams Mabon sent this one last year after she found it at a post-Christmas sale. It's sized at "12 Months." Oi. Norah's huge...


A warm sweater made by Norah's Great Aunt Marcia:


Good stuff. You're all so appreciated for all of the things you have made and given us for Norah. Thanks for being such blessings to the three of us.

Stay Gold!

MMK

i am not a public display

The following was written by a good friend of ours:

"i received a text the other night from a friend telling me how Taylor Ryan, the tattoo artist working on my left sleeve, will be coming back to Iowa so i could make an appointment to get worked on. Over the past couple months i've sat down with company reps and discussed body modification with my boss and decided i wanted to turn my 3/4's sleeve into a full sleeve and continue it onto my arm, seeing as body modification is pretty accepted in my career, that is by most companies, but maybe not so many clients.

Two years ago i stepped foot into a tattoo shop not realizing that the minute i decided to tattoo my skin i would be losing complete freedom of my body. I cannot count the number of times i have had random strangers grab and twist my arms into positions they do not bend. I also do not enjoy the quiz questions i get that go along with my piercings and tattoos...."do they hurt"...i mean it is a needle so yes..."how long did it take"...i don't know i didn't time them..."how much did it cost"....quality not quantity...."do your parents know"...yes...."do they approve"...it's my body i don't quite care...etc, etc. I really love the question "does your mother accept the way you look", not realizing that i can't even tell you what my mother looks like, but as awkward of a question that is, i will purposely make my response just as awkward in hopes of making that person feel just as little as they tried to make me.

I really, REALLY, do not like when someone asks me to show them my tattoos. I do not ask to see you naked, or to take your pants off, or to lift up your shirt. my tattoos are apart of me, they are permanent. I cannot take my arm off of my body, and i cannot remove the ink that lays upon my skin, therefore i have the right to not show off my tattoos. my body is my body and i am not a public display for anyone to look at, twist in odd positions, and gawk over. favorite example of personal space, i bent over one day to pick something up, i had a lady say "are those hands?"...yes, i have a pair of butchered hands that are on my lower back and bleed onto my ass. after i told her that she proceeded to pull my pants down and lift up my shirt, HELLO PERSONAL SPACE. my ass is my ass, and i do not have any intentions of showing it off, especially not to some random asshole lady who cannot keep her hands off me in public. Of course, if i were to yell or swing i'd be a terrible person because those covered in tattoos are either thugs, drug dealers, drug addicts, sluts, demon possessed, or criminals. I'd love to tell someone who calls me a terrible person for my appearance that i am happily sober and drug free and i did not get my tattoos in hopes of finding men and i do not steal or so i sacrifice animals of any kind, thank you.

It is 2009, i feel as though it is quite sad that my appearance and the appearance of others with body modification can be "offensive". It is also sad that racism, sexism, homophobia, and all forms of prejudice still exist in 2009, but that's a whole different rant and story.

end of rant."

I can relate to the rant. I, too, have lost count of how many people have grabbed and twisted my arm just to see all of my tattoos. At one point, I even had an elderly woman grab my shirt and pull it down just to see more of my chest piece. AWKWARD. I felt so uncomfortable I don't even remember what she said to me...I just wanted to get away from her.

It's funny - most of the time I forget I have tattoos. As mentioned in the rant, the tattoos I have are on my skin, and they have truly become apart of me and who I am. When people point them out, I'm like, oh yeah...that.

Why have I chosen to be tattooed? A few different reasons I suppose...
1) I personally find them attractive or as Marshall would say aesthetically pleasing.
2) I value the opportunity to "wear" my faith. But don't be confused - this is more for me than for those who observe my art...but then, doesn't that benefit those around me?
3) To hold fast to my choices, decisions, and commitments. I am a wife. I am a mother. I am a daughter. I am an Iowan. I am a child of God. I am drug free.
4) I enjoy art. And I'm honored to have met such great artists (well, minus one...but that's another story for another blog).

Anyways. You don't have to like tattoos or agree with my decisions, but please...just respect me and my body.

Please and thank you.

Seven Months

Norah turned seven months old a couple of days ago. As is our custom, we took some birthday photographs...

Reading what it's all about:


Waving to people back home:


Annnnd losing it entirely:


It was a solid day overall, I'd say.

If you can't tell from the pictures, she's looking more and more grown up every day. She sits up on her own, can turn around while sitting without falling over very often, picks things up, intentionally reaches for and rolls to get to things she wants, babbles to herself, mimics sounds we make, and laughs a lot. Still no teeth, but she's eating all sort of soft foods and baby cereals. I processed some green beans the other day and she's been eating one or two bean cubes with some apple sauce for her nightly meals lately. We're trying to get her to drink water out of a sip cup instead of a bottle, but she's yet to take too heartily to either the cup or the water without any formula. All in due time, I suppose.

More pictures from the past week:







That's it for now. You're welcome America.

Stay Gold,

MMK

All the Trees of the Field Will Clap Their Hands

And Norah will now, too. On command. It's pretty awesome that we can just say a word and she'll register its meaning and act in response. Like she's a real person or something.



She'll be seven months old tomorrow. It's hard to believe that it's gone this quickly.

Oh well.

Stay Gold!

MMK

The Genius of the Crowd

by Charles Bukowski -


there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at murder are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love

beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average

but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you
to kill anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect

like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest art