Tuesday, May 13, 2008 | by nathan

Things I Learned About My Dad (in therapy), edited by Heather Armstrong

I’ve been reading dooce for almost four years now. When I first discovered Heather Armstrong’s blog I’d already pitched a couple attempts at blogging onto the internet and found myself stymied, not only by the general malaise that tends to come with blogging over a long period of time, but with a general lack of community, role models, or the feeling that I wasn’t just shouting into the void. I started this blog when I started finding more excellent sites like Heather’s, written by people with great perspectives and crazy talent.

I was justifiably excited, then, when I found out that Heather was coming out with an anthology of essays about fatherhood, cobbled together from some of the web’s best writers. Though Heather is often unfairly shunted into the "Mommy Blogger" category, her website - and this book - are so much more than the typical mommy blogger fare.

Oh, and how much more. (Click the photo to order).

For me what’s rewarding about having read this book - I finished it in just a few days because of how compelling it was - is realizing the transitions we go through in life in how we think about our parents. In one essay Heather calls herself out for once immaturely trying to blame all her emotional shortcomings on her parents - who hasn’t been there? With age that attitude seems more and more wrongheaded and useless, and we grow out of it.

The book also features a whole host of men writing about their experiences as fathers, which had me feeling heavy and hot with baby fever there for about half an hour while I was reading it. That is, until I got out the bourbon and was able to stay up until whatever time I wanted without being really responsible for the life and welfare of another human being. Until that. But it did get me thinking about the possibilities of parenthood.

A particular favorite moment in the book, for me, was the essay by Sarah Brown in which she extolls her father’s virtues to the highest heavens. I loved it not only because Sarah’s an Okie and an occasional visitor to this website (hi Sarah!) but because what she says about her dad is almost exactly what I’d say about mine, only I didn’t know it until I read her piece.

I think my favorite thing about this book is that it totally defied my expectations. Other than Heather, Sarah, and a handful of others, I hadn’t read much by the authors included in this book. Despite the fact that I am a blogger and a writer, I sometimes find that the internet is filled with needless posturing by people whose main emotional need seems to be the need to appear cool, and so when I see books written by bloggers I’m skeptical: how is this guy going to tell this story so I’ll think he’s the awesomest person ever and want nothing more in life than to have a beer with him?

What we get here is a bunch of people talking without affectation, without pretense about fatherhood - about their own fathers, about their experiences as fathers and how one informs the other. The essays are occasionally hilarious and always heartfelt, and each one of them made me want to call my dad up and tell him I love him. So - I think I will. Excuse me.

Monday, May 12, 2008 | by nathan

Metapost

Two website-related little things:

1) I don’t know if you guys are reading the Weekly Links there off to the side. I hope you are; they’re really fantastic things. Sometimes, when I really like a certain crop of links, I’ll leave them up for TWO weeks just to make sure you’ve had a chance to click them. But in the interest of keeping all this stuff in one place, I’ve created a Weekly Links Archive. It’s under the "Links" tab up top.

2) I’m not completely sure if I can do this, but I do have to say that any political ads that appear on this site should not be taken as representative of the author’s views. You should all know that, but just in case you don’t.

Monday, May 12, 2008 | by nathan

Things You Can Bring Up In Conversation, Should Ever We Meet

Helena has tagged me. I’d like to be all cool and say that I hate memes - and really, I do, the idea of them. But dammit, they’re fun and Helena’s so cool that I was kinda giddy to be tagged by her.

Helena herself posted, before tagging me, about the strange and often-irritating nature of memes, and chain letters, and the superstitions surrounding them that are completely ridiculous. So while I’m not worried that my junk will turn black and fall off, I am in the midst of a major allergy attack and my energy is limited to pretty much the amount it takes to type and to answer questions. So, in the spirit of pooping on superstition, I give you THIRTEEN (THIRTEEN!) random facts about me:

1. Sometimes at the gym, when I’m done working out and my shirt is all sweaty, I find it really hard to get my shirt up over my head because it’s constantly sticking to me. This wouldn’t be so bad except my head inevitably gets caught in there, I start to feel claustrophobic, and panicky. If you catch me on a really bad day you’ll see me jumping around the locker room, my shirt at some weird angle up over my head, my trapped arms flailing about, crying, "Get it off! Get it off!" But not usually.

2. (A follow-up to Helena’s fact about cereal). My favorite cereal is and always has been Rice Krispies, though I realize as I write that that I haven’t had Rice Krispies in probably over a decade. My favorite way to eat them is with a banana cut up in the bowl, though when I was a kid I thought of this as something reserved for special occasions, and so the only time I ever had them that way was when we’d go stay with my grandparents.

3. On July 15 of this year I’ll be exactly the same age my mom was when she had me.

4. I have the phone number of the Public Information Office of the U.S. Supreme Court on a post-it on my computer at work.

5. Like many people, I have very little desire to have children if I can’t be a stay-at-home dad.

6. Riffing on the children theme for a minute - if I ever do have children, I’m going to be THAT parent: it’s highly likely we won’t have cable in our house, though we will watch a fair bit of PBS and The Simpsons, and we’ll do lots of crafts.

7. My phone number doesn’t spell ANYTHING, according to phonespell.org.

8. I can sing the entire Animaniacs "Nations of the World" song right off the top of my head, though I tend to slow way down when I get into Africa toward the end; I always have to think about it:

9. I like Hootie and the Blowfish, and I absolutely DO NOT care who knows that.

10. This morning on the way in to work I was thinking about who I was going to invite to our Christmas party this year.

11. When I was in the 4th grade we all had to write letters to President Bush. I was the only one in the entire school who got a response - some stupid form letter and a book with pictures of Barbara Bush in various rooms in the White House. The other kids treated me like a rock star, but I thought the whole thing was incredibly dumb.

12. The older I get, the more it becomes apparent to me that I have mild dyslexia.

13. I don’t think 13 - or any number - is unlucky.

14. But just in case.

Okay, who do I want to tag? How about these people:

Kevin

Jon

Tish

Palinode

and Whoorl.

Whew!

Sunday, May 4, 2008 | by nathan

Twitter’s Greatest Hits,Volume 2

Some more of my favorites from my Twitter account:

At the Marathon Expo, and Sally Kern just walked past me. Wasn’t quick-thinking enough to elbow her in the stomach.

How would I describe my day so far? "Batmobile Lost A Wheel."

I just found out that two of my college friends adopted a boy from Africa. That’s the coolest thing I’ve heard in quite awhile.

A television just tried to follow me on Twitter. A TELEVISION. Televisions can’t do things like that … can they? Going to hide now.

Neighbor kid biking up the street just did a PERFECT Mae West imitation: "Hello boys!"

You know what bugs me the most about people who get really into Ayn Rand? It’s that I know they could be so much smarter than that.

I’m not sure who said this so if you know please tell me: Getting in a philosophical debate online is like jerking off to your own photo.

I tell people at restaurants I’m allergic to peanuts, not because I am, but because I don’t want them on everything I order.

a good sandwich: wheat bread, deli-sliced turkey, melted grated chipotle cheddar, spinach, Seres Ranch blueberry sauce. Toast and enjoy.

I wish Charleton Heston would’ve been shot. I always kind of thought that was how me might go. "It’s your right as an American."

Ran the Redbud Classic 5K, then went to Galileo & had brunch crepes - crab & brie. Later - will sleep the sleep of a dead man. Good weekend.

Yesterday I heard Oprah say the word "clitoris." I think that’s why I’ve been in a very weird place emotionally today.

My stupid body is attacking benign substances that mean it no harm. My immune system is a McCain-controlled military.

I spent lunch hour reading through old blog posts of when Brian & I got together and when we moved into our house. Made me so happy.

From 100 yards away I just watched a cop ticket my car. BALLS!

Friday, April 18, 2008 | by nathan

A Bit of Sanity Amid Socio-Economic Craziness

This from Salon’s Heather Havrilesky:

America’s not on top anymore, because we’ve been exporting nothing but lukewarm fajita platters and spray-tanned celebrity jackasses for decades now. The days of closet-reorganizing professionals and Botox parties and hiring a personal trainer for your nanny’s personal chef are over … and thank God for that.

Full text of the article available at Salon. I couldn’t agree more with this sentiment, even though, as a public relations professional, the knowledge that my specific skill set has no intrinsic value to anyone at all scares the bejesus out of me.

Sam Friday coming after lunch.

Friday, April 11, 2008 | by nathan

Like Winning A Gold Medal In the Special Olympics

Image via XKCD.

So I just wrote a whole post about people who seem to have time in their day to argue endlessly over points of philosophy and politics on the internet. It was a little judgemental, and when I went to post it, something miraculous happened - the internet and its magic - and the post disappeared.

When that post vanished, so did my irritation, somewhat. I canceled my MySpace account a few months back because I was sick of people who listed "Acitivism" under their hobbies, because I don’t consider "Activism" to be sending out endless MySpace bulletins about how Hillary is 200% MORE PRO-GAY THAN OBAMA AND HERE’S THE PROOF!

To repeat something I read somewhere (forgive me, I don’t recall where) - arguing on the internet is a bit like jerking off to your own photo. So I’ll just say this: if you really want to be an "Activist," if you really care about the world and want to make it a better place, let me tell you about this homeless shelter I know about where you can volunteer every other Saturday.

Wednesday, March 5, 2008 | by nathan

Twitter’s Greatest Hits

I rather enjoy Twitter. It’s fun to have a way to dash off little 140-character missives without dedicating blog space to them. It’s sort of the mental equivalent of keeping index cards in your pocket, and if you follow some great people it’s incredibly fun to read some of the awesome things people have to say. Here are some of mine:

How to make your PR guy/graphic designer lose his mind: tell him to "Just make it pop" or "Like this, only pretty" or "Just be creative."

Saffy: "I didn’t think they let people with drug convictions in." Edina: "It’s not a conviction, sweetie." Patsy: "It’s just a firm belief."

Hillary Clinton reminds me of my high school journalism teacher - their voices and mannerisms are EXACTLY the same, and they look alike.

On Mondays, no matter the time, it always feels like 8 a.m. On Fridays it always feels like 4:45.

how is I went Wake Forest & Yale, got a 34 on my ACT & 1200 on my GRE and just did my whole workout with my shorts on backwards?

The moment I decided to destroy my MySpace account, I felt lighter, freer, closer to God and the earth. I am born anew in MySpacelessness.

With all the talk about how to stimulate it, you’d think that the economy is a giant clitoris." - Barbara Ehrenreich

This morning a coworker gave me 3 Advil. When 15 fell into my hand I said "I’m not an 8th grader attempting suicide." She said, "Not funny."

Man, I’ll be glad when I don’t have to hear about ‘Murka fighting the turists.

I truly, deeply, honestly don’t think anybody hates George W. Bush more than I do. I’m sure that’s not what Jesus would say, but oh well.

As of two days ago I’m 75% finished with my twenties. I want to make some goals, things to do before 30. Suggestions?

This morning on my walk to work, The Carpenters’ "Close to You" came on. I felt like I was in a 1978 orange-lit feminine hygiene commercial.

Bad night. Dog whined ALL NIGHT LONG. At approxomately 3 a.m. I completely lost my mind and threatened to put him to sleep. I’m so sorry.

Watching Paula Deen, thinking of creating a pool to guess when she’s going to finally going to have to have a leg amputated to diabetes.

Tomorrow’s Hits Today" on iTunes includes Seal, Celine Dion, & Ricky Martin. Um, don’t they mean "Yesterday’s (Unfortunate) Hits Today?"

Anyway, for more of same, feel free to join Twitter and follow me. It’s great fun!

Monday, February 25, 2008 | by nathan

Never Gonna Give You Up

Did you know that the Internet was invented at the European Organization for Nuclear Research (CERN)? I found that out this weekend whilst reading this amazing article in National Geographic titled "The God Particle." Today CERN is home to one of the world’s largest particle accelerators, but I like to think that when they were inventing the Internet, this was exactly the kind of thing they had in mind:

Friday, February 22, 2008 | by nathan

Less About Lasagna and Mondays, More About Unadulterated Existential Dread

I hope that I’ve passed on to you, my dozen or so regular readers, my overzealous love for The Comics Curmudgeon and Marmaduke Explained. They’re both wonderful blogs that expose the comics pages for what they really are, most of the time: lazy cash cows taking up space on a page that, at its best, is capable of so, so, so much more. Comics writers, with a few notable - and mostly retired - exceptions, have become lazy hacks who only write their strips in the hope of cashing in on much-larger marketing deals.

The worst offender, of course, is Garfield, not least because you can see his smarmy cat-face on everything in sight, but because when Jim Davis is on his game - I dunno if he takes the occasional hit of crack or what - he actually can be funny. Most the time, however, like most of the artists on the funny pages, he’s just phoning it in, and I have no doubt that when he’s ready to hang it up he’ll just hand it off to some committee so his work can continue for decades to come instead of clearing out and letting someone with a newer, fresher idea take up residence.

So, I’ve found a new favorite comics blog: Garfield Minus Garfield. As you can see, without the annoying orange cat, the strip is just Jon Arbuckle showing himself for the manic-depressive, existentially terrified little man that he is. Here’s what the blog’s author has to say:

Who would have guessed that when you remove Garfield from the Garfield comic strips, the result is an even better comic about schizophrenia, bipolor disorder, and the empty desperation of modern life? Friends, meet Jon Arbuckle. Let’s laugh and learn with him on a journey deep into the tortured mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against lonliness and methamphetamine addiction in a quiet American suburb.

Everything about it is rewarding. Read on!

UPDATE: Check it out! I made one!

Thursday, February 14, 2008 | by nathan

They All Play On the Golf Course and Drink Their Martinis Dry

Cary Tennis has probably written his best column to date. The headline is "Help! I’m a prisoner in a big suburban house!"

Here’s an excerpt. I highly recommend reading the whole thing:

You can’t put your finger on it but the place you are in does not make you happy. The place you are in is big and pretty. So that makes it hard to explain. Why does big and pretty not make you happy?

It doesn’t make you happy because it’s not made for humans. It’s made for cars. These suburban houses are basically huge garages with attached living quarters for servants — meaning us. We are the servants. We work for the cars who live there. The cars have a very good life. We make sure of that. But our lives are not so good there.

I do believe that suburban living is a form of torture. If you made suspected terrorists live in big suburban houses, they would talk eventually.

But they’d probably only say things like, "Have you seen my keys?"