The Cold Water Fountain

I went to Brantner Elementary, and so did all of my sons. I just randomly said to my youngest, ‘don’t you love the water fountain in your school with super cold water?’ And he mentioned the one next to the library at Brantner, which is exactly the one I was thinking about when I made my comment. There is no better bonding than a shared experience.

Beyond Pizza

I just noticed that Cicis has the motto ‘beyond pizza’ next to the name of their restaurant on the marquee. Has this already been the case? Either way, my first thought when I saw It today was ‘I bet they also sell assault weapons now’. 

Hurt People

Another example of parental miscommunication: for years, I have told the boys that ‘hurt people hurt people’, whenever the subject of general cruelty or bullying or just basic nasty human behavior would come up. They have always understood my underlying message about how unaddressed trauma can lead a person to traumatize others, but today my 8 year old made it clear to me that—although he has understood and internalized that message (he feels bad for the president, that he’s lived so long and is still hurting people)—he has always understood ‘hurt people hurt people’ to be a kind of mantra that damaged people repeat in their minds as they go about their lives, as in, ‘I must hurt people!’, rather than what that saying actually means, which is that people who have hurts they won’t or can’t address will often hurt other people. I saw the lightbulb go off over his head when I explained it. We say things, and we assume those things are understood in the way we meant them, but it is critical to appreciate how different each person’s context is.

Smoke

I smoke my lungs

And I smoke my mind

I smoke my soul

And wonder what God will find

In the ashes of my body

Maybe just little bones

Will he find my spark

And the thing that called me home?

And I 

I smoke to you

I cloud my mind

Man is just an animal

A pain in my side

Why do I care for this beast

If it lives or if it dies?

Why does it torment me so

When in the night it cries?

I am smoke and you

Are a solid thing

Can I encompass you

Can you breathe me in?

Is love just a tumor?

A cancer that can hide

All of the emptiness

That God has left inside?

I smoke my body

Like a salmon on the grill

Will anyone mourn me?

Taste me, I know they will!

What is the flavor

I’m glad that God has died

I’m glad I twisted that knife

When I kissed him last night

I smoke my lungs

And I smoke my mind

I’m surprised he didn’t kill me

After what I said and I

But here I am alive

A living blasphemy

And your body tastes like honey

And I welcome the bees that sting

My lips

My tender parts

My imagination

My bleeding heart

My bleeding bowels

My swollen ass

I’ll sink down into hell

Where at least I know they dance!

Our Most Accurate Biographers

It is both intimidating and humbling to realize the we are the first historical figure our children will do a deep analysis and study of. They will fully understand our worldview, our ethics, our politics...our entire overall philosophy of life, but also be able to balance what we say we believe with what our actions—and their experience of those actions—reveal about what we actually believe. Our children are the foremost scholars of our lives and works, and although they may not write their findings in an actual book, how we interacted with their world is imprinted on every page of their lives. 

Affirmation

You are beautiful, important, and unique, and I’m glad you exist. Yes, that includes you, you giant fucking asshole.

On Bosses

For reasons, I was barely able to sleep last night, and my supervisor totally didn’t sweat me taking a half day because of it. As someone who has worked in warehouses, factories, and restaurants as long as I’ve worked in the human services, I can say definitively, social workers are much more understanding and trauma informed that foremen and shift managers. I can’t even imagine the abuse I would receive for attempting to take a self-care day in those other environments. The bottom line is that I am grateful to work for and with people who both understand and care about people.

Pizza

Every time I’m at a lunch meeting that orders pizzas, and someone brings the pizzas into the room, the only thought I have as the meeting goes on past the time of the pizzas’ arrival is ‘this is yet another minute that I am not eating that freshly delivered hot pizza, and I am full of resentment’.

I Dreamed That I Died

I dreamed that I died last night

It wasn’t so bad

Surrounded by my all my loves;

My sons, my girl, my brother and sister

My mom and my dad

I dreamed that I died

Which will someday come to pass

But I am present today again

No one will ever say

‘He dreamed that he lived’

You’ve got to grind and hustle

Move in the direction of your fear

You’ve got to call us up your palms

And drip sweat from your hat

And you’ve got to love and share

And live by a code

And as long as you give to those you love

You will never be alone

I dreamed I died last night

But now I am born again

And when I am just a memory

Let be a memory of helping hands

Of integrity, and belief

In the potential of man

I dreamed that I died and someday I will

But for now living

Is the business at hand.

We Are Commodified

Capitalism has a parasitic relationship with our identity, both personal and as members of however many groups we belong to. The goal of capitalism is to commodify each individual and group, extract as much labor and capital from each individual member of the non-ruling class as possible, and use the divisions created between each non-ruling class (proletariat) individual and group by the system itself to create division whenever the ruling class is threatened by popular challenge or uprising. To capitalism, we are not people or communities. We are brands with stock market values that can be weaponized against one another whenever the rulers feel threatened.

Give Me a Pulitzer

Living my best life, sitting in my car in a Wal-Mart parking lot after 9pm, listening to a teenage couple yell at each other at the top of their lungs, accusing each other of god-knows-what, slamming their car doors over and over again (how many doors can they have?), and demanding their lighter back. The girl just screamed, ‘What did I do Bradley? What did I do?!’. This is journalism.

Literary Names

I just read that in 2013 alone, 67 little girls were named Daenerys by their parents, and 241 little girls were named Khaleesi. That’s pretty rough. Folks, please wait until the story is over to decide to bestow the name of a character on your child. The only worse literary name I can think of giving your kid would be to name them Lolita, because you heard the title and thought it sounded pretty, but you never read the book.

Edgy Comedians

It’s so weird to me that so many rich, white, heterosexual male comedians still try to interpret the public reaction/disinterest in their stale homophobic/racist/sexist/generally bigoted jokes as a sign that they’re edgy and somehow speaking truth to power. The lack of insight is astounding. No dude, I’m not saying you suck because you exposed some weakness in my ideology or existence, I’m saying you suck because you are boring and not funny.

#billmaher #billburr #joerogan #nickdepaolo #rickygervais #dennismiller

Marketing Advice

Pro tip for the folks who pay protesters to stand outside of the Planned Parenthood downtown lethargically holding signs: institute a requirement for sign swirling and quirky dancing. That is a popular marketing move, and one of your employees might even get on Ellen!

Game of Thrones Predictions

Considering the medieval setting of Game of Thrones, shouldn’t somebody have gotten really bad diarrhea at least once by now? Everyone is wondering who will die next, but outside of Tywin Lannister, I haven’t seen one character on the toilet, or even complain of a stomach ache. I’d like to see one character interrupt the action at least once because they need to make an emergency bathroom visit. Tormund would be a good choice. Nobody eats right on that show, but you know Tormund doesn’t. I would like the last episode to begin as a huge battle set up from Tormund’s POV, but just as the action starts, his stomach gurgles, he makes a sour face, beads of sweat begin forming on his forehead, and the camera follows him as he runs off into the woods. The scene stays with him as he finds an old run-down outhouse, and it’s just him violently shitting for an entire hour with battle noises raging outside. At the very end he steps out exhausted but relieved, the battle sounds have ended, and a wounded soldier stumbles into his line of sight, says ‘Sansa Stark sits on the Iron Throne’, and then dies. ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ starts playing. Fade to back.

Bad Parenting

Our current president is a terrible father. All public evidence points to this. For me, this is a bottom line, make-or-break deal, especially when evaluating a person’s eligibility for leadership. If your record re: your relations with your own progeny amounts to creating and reinforcing trauma, how can I support you as a leader?

Diet & Exercise

Has anyone else thought about how bad Donald Trump’s genitals must smell whenever they hear or read about his gross diet? Also, you know this guy hasn’t had a solid bowel movement in a decade. This understanding goes a long way to explain the constant scowl on his wife’s face.

Capitalism Hurt Your Heroes

Listening to a soul-dead wife of a republican politician selling a book on the radio talking about how her single mother, who worked three jobs and died way too young, inspired her to commit to accepting a life of drudgery and toil and a life overall full of calluses and unaddressed trauma, makes me think about how many times I’ve encountered this meme. Yes, it is heroic that your mother/father/whatever fully committed themselves to taking care of their family, but it doesn’t address the utter depravity of our capitalist culture that required them to make this sacrifice in the first place  . And, actually, how good of a parent can you be—what kind of holistic parenting can you provide—if you are forced to grind your body into paste just to keep you and your families alive? There is a stark difference between surviving and being alive, and this mythologizing of the hard-working parent only serves to continue and empower the system that kept your parent from fulfilling their full calling. Yes, maybe they paid the rent and fed your mouth. But they modeled a kind of sheep-like obedience to their societal overlords that greatly infringed upon their ability to feed your soul. So yes, love your parent who did all they could for you, but don’t transfer your love for them to a lionization of the system that prevented your souls from fully connecting, and definitely do not take this parental sacrifice as a blueprint for how a whole human being should live.

Halloween Costume

My son and I just came up with an awesome family costume theme: we all dress like plague doctors and walk slowly from house to house. We don’t even have bags for candy; when we walk up to each door we don’t say anything, just slowly raise an arm and point at the person passing out candy for an uncomfortable amount of time, then slowly lower our arms and walk to the next house.

ADL’s

Social Work Magic: when you see a client’s mind blown as you shop with them, and explain how spaghetti can be so much more than a jar of Ragu plopped onto a pile of boiled pasta, for around the same price. Life isn’t just about staying alive. Flavor is a definite factor!