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I’m back.

In an effort to write more, I have decided to awaken this seven year old blog. I think it’ll mostly be a journal. Replete with metaphors, I love metaphors, despite what Jack Nicholson’s character said in As Good As It Gets. I think I enjoy metaphors because I have really found evidence of the idea that everything is everything. I guess some people see it as God-related. I just think that engineering is like literature is like music is like war is like 17 of Newton’s Laws. People living interestingly in their milieu, those are the kinds of people I like listening to. People who strive, or people who have found something real. Not the ones that have just stopped when they got tired and pointed to the nearest thing and called it real. The ones who made it to the next town.

I have a bad habit of trying to “impart wisdom” with newbs. I think I must seem very patronizing at times. I just don’t want people to waste time on certain things. Though, to be fair, screwing up can be really educational.

Dichotomy. I should have named this entry dichotomy. That seems to be the central principle in my life. There are often two reasonable sides to an argument. Evolution seems pretty absolute, as does the notion of civil rights for minorities (though the practice is disregarded in too many cases still). But immigration, abortion, liberalism vs. true conservativism. Economic theory. I think the problem with economic theory is that in order for it to make sense, it has to factor in more variables than AccuWeather. In the political arena dichotomy is the rub, ideally, though realistically, to all concerned it seems like rationality vs. irrationality have to be thrown into the mix.

But even on a personal level. Beating Griffin in a game teaches him about losing (which makes my heart ache, because he still takes it too hard), while letting him win builds his sense of safety and support. If done properly. I have taken to showing him the cut-throat move before choosing a less powerful move, to both teach him, to challenge him, and to make him feel safe that he can still win. He can lose well, but he finds it tough. Since life involves a lot of losing and dusting oneself off, I also sometimes don’t pull my punches, though I do show him what i’m doing, why i’m doing it, and encouraging him to add it to his bag of tricks.

Other dichotomies – love and hate are the easy ones. Clean and dirty. Alone and together. Not just opposites, but ways of being. Somehow I seem to need both of all of them. I need to fail to appreciate success, and to succeed to feel like i’m ready for whatever.

Dichotomy is the thing. Some metaphors break down. For example l, you can have light without shadow, inside a room. We can create that environment. One could argue that the walls themselves represented a new form of shadow. But that is moving the goalposts a little.

My babies are at a wedding in California. Their mother’s brother. Their uncle. I was on the invite, I think, as I was still married when the invites went out. Weird to have the kids doing something so memorable and not being there to experience it. This divorce has been necessary, but awful. The circumstances, my feelings about them and about marriage generally as a result, have been turdulent. I did not make a typo there. More dichotomy. I needed out, but not in this way. Very Monkey’s Paw of the universe. Tell me again how there’s a loving God. Not to be dramatic, as this pales in comparison to what some people are facing. Illnesses and sick kids and spouses and parents and siblings. Rape and murder and war and oppression. I haven’t lost my global perspective, but my personal one was thrown way out of whack by factors beyond my control. This is the part of the movie where the helm’s not responding and the crew is all looking at each other knowing that nobody knows what the answer is, but that they each really want to figure it out. And the whole movie is in my head. All I can do is describe it to you. So blog.

I don’t know if anyone will read this without me telling them about it. I guess I hope so. This isn’t a diary. It’s a Blog! Cue the fantastic credits music. Maybe Radio Free Europe or Nothing Matters When We’re Dancing.

I’d really like to cross your mind.

Why am I here, if not to make an impression on you, or better yet, to impress you? If you’re just going to forget me, then I’m no different than a chair at a train station. To think that you think of me is what enables me to turn from the abyss where “so what?” echoes. It’s funny for a solipsist to desire the approval of others so desperately.

I think of people sometimes, and I Google them, or I try to find them on facebook or myspace. Do you look for me?

I want to be the best, but I hate practicing, so that’s out. You’ll never be reminded of me by coming across one of my published plays on a library shelf or one of my films as you peruse Netflix. I’m not going to be elected anything important, so that won’t do it.

But I want you to think of me anyway.

I suppose I can’t control why you think of me. Maybe you see an average looking 30-40-something guy with a beard who’s soft in the middle and think “hey, that guy looks like Nate.” That would suck, but I suppose it’s better than nothing. Maybe you’re at a party and some loudmouth jackass acts like he thinks everyone in the room is dying to hear his opinion. That, too, would suck. And I’m not sure that would be better than nothing. I believe I might take nothing, if that were the other option. But no, who am I kidding, I’d take even that.

Here are the things I’d like for you to associate with me:
inner strength
interesting trains of thought
boldness, if not fearlessness
the duality of life
kindness (seriously, I think I’m kind)
a quest for meaning, non-religious

I have always tried to distinguish myself by my choices, rather than my natural talents. My shrink suggested that I love to connect with people but have deliberately made my inner life obtuse and placed complicated locks on the door that leads to it. She thinks that I’m normal but that I’m trying to be weird. Maybe she’s right, though I think that would make me a different kind of weird. Or pathetic.

If you comment on this entry, I will punch you in the face.

Our little tough guy, after four months of using her mom’s bladder as a heavy bag, showed up on April 6 at 3:45 pm, with,  of course, a swollen nose. MMA world (and cheatin’ men) watch out!

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She enjoys eating,

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sleeping,

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dreaming about eating

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and making weird faces.

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Here’s my family. Purty as a pitture.

For more Charlotte, keep an eye on CharlotteNathalie.wordpress.com

Here are the lyrics to Bush’s song “Glycerine”:

It must be your skin I’m sinking in
Must be for real ’cause now I can feel
And I didn’t mind, it’s not my kind
It’s not my time to wonder why

Every thing’s gone white and every thing’s gray
Now you’re here, now you’re away
I don’t want this, remember that
I’ll never forget where you’re at

Don’t let the days go by, Glycerine, Glycerine

I’m never alone, I’m alone all the time
Are you at one or do you lie
We live in a wheel where everyone steals
But when we rise, it’s like strawberry fields

If I treated you bad, you bruise my face
Couldn’t love you more, you got a beautiful taste
Don’t let the days go by
Could have been easier on you

I couldn’t change though I wanted to
Should have been easier by three
Our old friend ‘Fear’ and you and me
Glycerine, Glycerine

Don’t let the days go by, Glycerine
Don’t let the days go by, Glycerine, Glycerine
Glycerine, Glycerine

Bad mood whine again
Bad mood whine again
As she falls around me

I needed you more when we wanted us less
I could not kiss, just regress
It might just be clear, simple and plain
Well, that’s just fine, that’s just one of my names

Don’t let the days go by
Could have been easier on you, you, you
Glycerine, Glycerine, Glycerine, Glycerine

I love that fucking song. I am not kidding. Those are the lyrics, which might have been written on college ruled loose leaf in a trapper keeper in the back of Mr. Hershey’s class, but God fucking damn it, I love the song. What can I say? I liked the nineties.

Santogold

That’s the 1st piece I propose. Holy crud, the lady’s awesome. She’s all over the place, and she’s right on almost all the time. When she repeats “We think you’re a joke, shove your hope where it don’t shine” I wanna do backflips. Best repeated phrase since “We hope that you choke.” As good as any new thing I’ve heard in a long time.

Album: Santogold

My Favorite Tracks: Shove It, L.E.S. Artistes

Let me know when you’ve soaked it in, and we can discuss it.

Crazy crazy crazy. Stress and anxiety, fear and guilt, happiness and joy, calm and inner peace. Rotating around between and among them, comforting and requiring comfort. Seemingly no rhyme or reason. I expect the worst one moment, then don’t do the bare minimum the next and set myself up for trouble. I’m different than I was, and the same as always. Silliness. Status guo. SNAFU.

Reading a cool book on the brain. Learning lots. More potential connections in the human brain than there are atoms in the universe, babies need to hear language sounds before one to learn them most easily, brain is awesomely plastic. The undiscovered country. Just read Tipping Point, which was excellent. I’m a salesman, I figure. Before that read some of the History of Western Philosophy, but got annoyed by the fact that Plato’s the greatest philosopher ever and he’s a weenie trying to compensate for his insecurities with ridiculous utopian scenarios. I got that at home in my own fridge, why pay restaurant prices for it? I’ll get back to the book, at some point. It’s going nowhere, riding my hip in a holster like all the rest. Bought, for $20, 3000 classics for my phone, on which I do all my reading now. Works by Shakespeare, Shaw, Dostoyevski, Twain, Dickens, Tolstoy, and a bunch of others. 3000 of them, novels and stories and poems and essays. Now I have them close at hand at all times, a whole fuckin library. Pretty damned cool. Before that I read The Drunkard’s Walk, which was a great book about randomness. Learned that the child of two smart parents is usually dumber than the parents and two tall parents shorter, which makes sense when you think about it, as we have no ultra-geniuses or 12-foot people after 10,000 years. Don’t read paper books anymore. No sadness, though it is a waste of space and money, as I’ve bought a bunch of paper books over the last 10 years that I still haven’t read. Want a book?

Lisa bought me Kung Fu Panda and Toy Story, two of my favoritest movies. Brilliant, both.

Playing Magic Online constantly, i love it love it love it. Keeps me thinking and competing, two of my favorite things.

Therapy is stalled, I don’t feel I’m getting much from it.

Haven’t had a drink on almost 7 months, wanna start again but am afraid I’ll overdo it. If I overdo it one more time, I’ll have to stop for good, though I’m pretty sure I can be reasonable.

Job’s a bear, economy’s got everyone scared and snippy. All my coworkers are at the cusp of retirement, or were, anyway.

Got some Bobby Blue Bland, real good stuff, don’t know how I never heard him before. Do yourself a favor.

Gribble rules. So funny and fun. Charlotte will be here in April. She’s not funny yet. Lisa is the greatest, my best friend and favorite person.

Maybe I’m getting there. Maybe. It does feel different now, despite the repetition. Wouldn’t trade it, whatever the case.

Let’s Make a Deal

You don’t want to play Nomic, I get it. I’m hurt, but I’ll move on.

Got a question for you. If you’ve seen this before, please refrain from responding.

 

A contestant on Let’s Make a Deal stands before three doors, of which he must choose one. Behind one is a new car, behind the other two are goats. He chooses a door, at which point Monte opens one of the remaining two doors to show him a goat, and gives him a chance to change his pick. Should he do it? Would it matter?