The imminent arrival...

So this weekend Jess started having some seriously strong contractions.  I looked up what she was experiencing in that essential pregnancy guide, "All the Things You Should Freak Out About When Pregnant," and all signs seemed to point to actual labor rather than pre-term labor.  The contractions weren't regular, but that was the only missing piece.  We called the OB/GYN on call and he told us to come in to the hospital immediately.

So we calmly got dressed and got ready to go to the hospital. I said, "it's okay if the baby comes now. We have the crib and the co-sleeper and the pack 'n' play and the carseat and bottles and clothes and everything -- and my god, the house is so messy," and started to cry.  Then we got in the car, and it had a bunch of trash in it, and I actually hyperventilated a little.  I think that's a good taste of what having a baby will be like -- everything that's been good enough for me and Jess will not be good enough for our child.

These feelings are like messages from another planet.  I wasn't even aware that I was freaked out until I started hyperventilating, and then the panic threatened to swallow me. I didn't even think about the house being messy until it was in the context of imminent baby arrival, and then I just wanted to collapse on the floor.  That's a really scary amount of love to feel for someone I haven't even met yet.

Thankfully, the contractions were just a bump in the road, and they're under control now.  Still, we are probably looking at having a newborn before Christmas.  All the time in the world wouldn't be enough to get ready for my child, but I still can't wait to meet the kid.

Here's hoping we'll be good parents. I know that's a moving target, being a good parent -- it's easy to not be an evil parent (don't hit the kid, provide for the kid's needs, show love and provide boundaries), but being a good parent? That's tricky. All we can do is the best we can.  

The only solace is knowing that every parent will fail in some regard, and will be blamed by the kid for some grown-up neuroses. Because let's face it -- we're all neurotic. I've met people of every conceivable background, from super-conservative to crazy-permissive, and we're all screwed up in our own special way, and on some level we all blame our parents.  

What's also heartening is for all those people I know (and myself included) who are screwed up and blame their parents, we all love our parents deeply and know, deep down, that they're not the reason we're screwed up.  They, like us, like everyone, were screwed up to begin with, and they did the best they could.

My highest goal is to combine all the wonderful things my parents did right, and all the things Jess's parents did right, and maybe we'll end up with a neuroses-free child.  Or, at least, we'll give the child an open space to screw him or herself up in new, interesting ways, for which they will blame us.  And then they'll stare down the barrel of an imminent baby arrival, and they'll realize that we did a pretty good job, after all.

Election fatigue...

You know, every time I watch the candidates debate, I find it harder and harder to believe that anyone buys what John McCain is selling. Thank goodness the Democrats are branching out from their time-honored, "roll over and accept smears" tactic, and actually fighting back. But the end result is Obama has to spend more time correcting McCain's lies than talking about the issues.

Then Obama screws himself by giving complex, well-thought-out answers to the questions posed, while John McCain goes for crowd-pleasing, empty answers. "Sure, we can fix social security, it ain't hard, and we're going to. Sure we can work on all of my priorities at the same time, while cutting taxes, freezing spending, and spending $300 billion so the government can own your home mortgage, while regulating Wall Street more, while making sure the government isn't too involved in your life! U.S.A!" And the crowd goes wild.

It's something I noticed with the Bush administration: no one pays attention to whether the Republican candidate's claims are true, plausible, or even possible: when a Republican says they're going to do something, they get the credit as if they had already done it. It's weird and off-putting.

It's like Bill Maher says: Republicans are very good at winning elections. They're willing to lie, dumb it down, use scare tactics, and pander to people. They're good at this game. What they suck at is governing. I just can't believe people seriously think that John McCain is going to "go on up to Washington and straighten those corrupt politicians out." He IS a corrupt politician. H8is campaign is run by lobbyists. He's been there for 30 YEARS and hasn't made anything better, how is he going to start now?

And then the people who decry Obama's 'elitism' and root for Sarah Palin because she's so down-home and folksy. People, when did those two things become qualities of a good leader? We TRIED voting for the guy we'd want to have a beer with, and how did that work out for us? Palin's a moron, and a dangerous moron at that.

You know, even after all the crap McCain has spewed in this election, I think the nation could do okay with him. We'd hvae to be better off than we were with Bush, if only marginally. He wouldn't really change much, but at least he's been around and knows his stuff. We'd be all right. But when McCain dies two years in, and we get President Palin -- oh good Lord. She's Dolores Umbridge -- self-righteous, utterly convinced in her narrow world-view, and determined that everyone share it. *Shudder*.

I just hope Obama can get enough reasonable people to the polls to counter all the ignorance I've been seeing. I just got an email forward that's been circulating in the uber-conservative camps, and it scares the pants off of me. People really believe that Obama's a white-hating secret terrorist who wants to overthrow Washington with his liberal agenda?

I know the answer is that it doesn't matter if these fundies believe that or not -- they won't vote for Obama because the Republican party has convinced them that the Republican party is the decent Christian party. Hell, I know Christians who are voting for Obama, but feel guilty about it. They have to hide it from their friends and loved ones, and they still secretly feel they're selling out God by doing so.

Like I said -- Republicans are really good at winning elections. They're just terrible at running the country, and that's never more obvious than now. I wish people would look past the rhetoric and look at the state our country is in after eight years of clueless Republican rule.

The cool.

So when I turned 25 or so, I remember thinking, "it's going to be weird not to be in the most-coveted demographic anymore." I mean, most advertising at that point was aimed squarely at the high-school kids or college kids, those with either their parent's money or student loan runoff to spend. I thought it would be kind of nice to not have advertisements constantly crammed down my throat; thought this was the time where one breaks free from corporate-sculpted personas and begins to cultivate an original style.

Now that I'm 30 and have a baby on the way, though, I've discovered that there's no such thing as being outside a targeted demographic. Case in point: we spent our teenage years obsessed with being cool, and now we're at the age our parents were when we thought our parents were the least cool people on the planet. So we're freaking out, and we want to start families and whatnot without turning into our hopelessly square parents. I thought I was alone in, for example, wanting to dress my infant in hip, groovy ways that showed I wasn't into the whole pink-and-blue, lace-and-butterflies thing. Then I saw all this:

Cool baby clothes
Punk rock baby clothes
Retro Baby

Yup. Now instead of worrying that I'm being too square or too trendy, I can worry if my baby's too square or too trendy. And all I wanted when I started that google search was a onesie with a skull on it, for Baby Skullhead. Now I'm wondering when we get to stop worrying about being cool. I'm guessing when I turn 80, there'll be an entire product line of walkers, depends, and pill counters with flames, skulls, and rock band posters on them. Funny ol' world.

Diary: You had a baby in the Wal-Mart.

So this weekend me and the missus ended up at Wal-Mart. We promised ourselves we'd only go in, look for the cleaning product that Target didn't carry, and get out before we got tainted by the skanky Wal-Mart vibe. But we failed miserably -- we left with a cart full of stuff, including a new table and lamp for the basement. We also will probably be returning for a crib and a TV in the near future.

This caused us no end of stress, because -- well, to be blunt, we feel like we're better than Wal-Mart. Which, disconcertingly, means we must think we're better than the people who *do* shop at Wal-Mart. We're too cool, too eco-conscious, too globally-minded to shop at such an evil corporation. If we buy a crib there, our fellow hipsters will surely judge us. Well, maybe the Prius will buy us some points.

Thing is, I don't really know any of these fellow hipsters who would judge us for buying a crib at Wal-Mart. Everyone I know thinks we're stupid for not shopping at Wal-Mart, because they have the lowest prices. And I've always judged them for that -- surely anyone who is well-informed about the world around them would gladly pay an extra hundred dollars here and there than go to Wal-Mart, right? Right. . .

I'm not saying Wal-Mart's going to be my first stop for goods and services or anything, just saying that as I get older, my smug superiority gland seems to be shrinking. Not even the Prius purchase can make it swell up again. Maybe that's a good thing.

Linguistic politics.

"Maverick presidential nominee John McCain has chosen an equally maverick vice president, Sarah "maverick" Palin. The two mavericks promise to blaze new maverick trails in Maverickton, D.C., provided McCain wins the national maverick in November. McCain is scheduled to speak tonight on maverick care, national maverickurity, the maverickonomy, and overturning Roe Vs. Maverick. John McMaverick is then expected to rip Obama a new maverick for using the word 'change' too much."

Look, guys. THIS is maverick:

I swear, if you do a shot every time someone covering the RNC says 'maverick', you'll be dead in an hour. Even if you're listening to NPR, who ought to know better.

Lies, damn lies, and politics.

Well, I have to hand it to John McCain for running a campaign that's slightly atypical of the Republican party. There's not the terrorism fearmongering that you usually get -- nothing as bad as Hillary's 3 a.m. phone call ad. Instead, McCain's retreated to the traditional Republican stance: the other candidate is a left-wing liberal who wants to raise your taxes and spend all the money helping welfare mothers by crack. That tactic's a little less odious than the Homeland Security rap, because at least it's one that's clearly, patently, provably false.

Lies: Obama will RAISE YOUR TAXES OMG OMG.

The truth: Obama's tax plan would reduce the average tax bill by at least $1,000 in every income bracket except the very tip-top. It's true he doesn't support the extension of Bush's tax cuts, but his plan does include cuts, rebates, and credits for the middle class. If your income's below $200k a year, your taxes are going down.

Lies: Obama IS TOTALLY LIBERAL LEFT-WING COMMIE OMG OMG.
Obama's positions on those hot-button issues are decidedly moderate. He opposes late-term abortion. He supports civil unions for homosexual couples, not a legalization of gay marriage. He has a moderate take on gun control. Sure, if you think gay people should be put in concentration camps, that everyone has the right to have a tank in their front yard, then Obama looks liberal. But don't we all, in that case?

Lies: Obama's fiscal plan will INCREASE THE DEFICIT OMG OMG.

Truth: Obama's economic proposals are decidedly more fiscally conservative than Bush's. He actually plans to pay for the programs and changes he proposes by cutting spending and increasing corporate taxes. I don't want to get into all the details, but the truth is out there. Check out http://www.barackobama.com/issues/fiscal/ for details.

Lies: Obama IS SOFT ON SECURITY AND DOESN'T SUPPORT THE TROOPS.

Truth: Obama is not averse to using military force. In fact, he supported sending more troops into Afghanistan to actually finish the job there. He wants our troops to be deployed only when necessary, and to have the equipment they need, and to be treated well when they return. He cares far more about the military than the Republicans have for the past eight years.

Lies: Obama LACKS EXPERIENCE.

Truth: If experience = time spent in Washington, then maybe. But if you look at Obama's real-life experience, what he's done in his home state and in his brief time in the Senate, you can see that he knows what he's doing. Let's face it: no presidential candidate has all the knowledge he needs to do the job. W certainly didn't; he relied on people like Dick Cheney and Don Rumsfeld to advise him. Obama will do the same, only his advisors might possibly be less... oh ... EVIL. What's more, McCain just chose a VP, someone who quite possibly would end up being president, given that McCain is slightly older than God, who has less than two years' experience as a governor and no experience in Washington. Clearly, experience isn't everything.

Lies: Obama is secretly a MUSLIM TERRORIST OMG OMG.

Granted, McCain hasn't leveled this charge; he's let the 527's speak for him. The truth is, if it matters to you, Obama's a Christian. He attends church regularly and talks candidly about his faith.

Oh, and one more bonus lie:

McCain is a MAVERICK W00T.

McCain votes with W 90% of the time. Do we really need 10% change in this country?

Look, if you don't want to vote for Obama because he takes a moderate pro-choice position, or he doesn't favor abstinence-only education, or Republicans are just somehow more Godly, that's your choice. But don't cast that vote for McCain -- that vote for 4 more years of Bush's failed policies -- based on the lies we're being told. Check out Obama's stances for yourself, and if you have an hour, watch his acceptance speech. I guarantee it's an eye-opener.



Lies: Obama is SECRETLY A MUSLIM TERRORIST.

I want my baby-back baby-back baby-back ribs.

We had the sonogram today. I was expecting it to be an emotional time, but was unprepared for the ways in which it was emotional. There was the first rush of joy and love when the baby first appeared on the screen, and then I would get all choked up at odd moments. It went like this:

Tech: here's the baby's hand, and you can see there's all five fingers...
Me: Huh. That's really cool.
Tech: And here is the spine and the ribs...
Me: My baby has ribs! (sniffle sniffle).

For some reason, just seeing the intricate, delicate bones that make up the spine and the ribs really brought it home -- this complex, impossible organism is really and truly developing right now, and it's a combination of me and the woman I love, and it has RIBS!

It also has my chin, which is sad for the little guy/girl. Though my sisters look pretty good with the chin, so if it's a girl we're okay, and a boy can always grow a beard.

You can see the pictures here:
http://flickr.com/photos/skullhead/2805727313/in/set-72157606319204394/

Colander sweet colander.

So we had a wonderful rain storm last night, complete with peals of thunder and flashes of lightning. It was absolutely beautiful. Me, Jess, and almost-baby snuggled in bed, safe and warm under the covers, and listened to the rain tap on our roof. Since my dad and I repaired the roof, we could actually enjoy the rain instead of fearing it!

Then when we woke up, we went to check out the nursery (the room directly under the roof repair). The good news is that it's not leaking where we fixed it.

The bad news is it's still leaking on the same wall, it just moved over a little bit. So now we're looking at maybe replacing the whole roof.

You know, when we bought this house we thought it had a newly repaired, non-leaking roof, a dry basement, and adequate drainage systems. Since then, we've shelled out nearly $7,000 to make the house live up to what we were sold, and we're nowhere near done.

I'm trying to keep positive about this, but I honestly don't know where the money will come from to fix this. I don't really want to outfit our baby with fins and a SCUBA suit so it can sleep in the nursery.

Diary:This is for reals.

I have now felt the baby kicking in Jess's belly. Since it's still a little early, I could barely feel it: it was like a gentle tap on my fingertip, almost imperceptible, my kid telling me "I'm still putting myself together."

We've been lying in bed with the baby monitor, just listening for kicks and the occasional snippet of heartbeat. I can't believe that this is happening to me -- it seems so improbable that I get to be a father. I'm slowly realizing that my father probably felt like this, too -- like a kid in a costume, pretending he knew what he was doing, faking it until it became real.

This is going to be fun.

Rant: Gay marriage.

I figure I'll just use this blog for reviews, rants, and diary, and just label each entry thus. That way hypothetical readers will know what to skip.

Gay marriage. The only reason we keep having to debate it in this country is that the morally bankrupt Republican leadership -- those guys who will sell out our children's education, our environment, and our health to the highest bidder -- have established themselves as the moral compass of the nation, because they hates them some gays and some abortion. The great lie, which has worked very well for them, is that they represent the interests of the middle and lower classes because of this religious platform. Anybody who is paying attention can see that the Republican leaders couldn't care less about the poor or the middle class -- just look how we've fared with eight years of Dubya.

Nevertheless, the Repubs have gotten a lot of mileage out of the idea that opposing gay marriage, and legislating against it, is something our government should be doing. And in typical fashion, the Democrats have fought the debate on the Republicans' terms. No one has the stones to say what should be said, which is this:

The government has no business legislating what gender of people can enter into this government-recognized union. None. There is no other contract that the government ratifies in which you're allowed to exclude people by gender. The movement in this country has ever been toward equality and more rights for more people, not selectivity and fewer rights for fewer people. It's madness. It's not even Sparta.

The confusion comes from the fact that the word "marriage" means two things: a union that is blessed by a religion, and a union that is recognized by the government. Thus some religious types think that if the government recognizes same-sex unions, that means somehow their religious covenant is tainted, because their God isn't down with gay folk. The obvious solution, then, is to separate the two: say, "look, any two people can have their marriage ratified by the government. If you want your marriage blessed by a deity, that's none of the government's business. That's the way it should be.

Of course, those who oppose gay marriage don't see it that way. The subtext of every argument against gay marriage is basically, "my God says you can't do this, make it illegal." But that doesn't work with how our government is supposed to operate, so they have to make other arguments, which are pretty easily debunked, should any politician have the huevos to actually address them. Breaks down like this:

Argument: Marriage is for procreation, therefore gay marriage violates the spirit of it.

Rebuttal: The government recognizes unions of people who either won't or can't have children: infertile couples, elderly couples, couples who just don't want kids. Moreover, plenty of people have children outside of wedlock. If you can have marriage without children and children without marriage, where is this inherent link between procreation and marriage?

Argument: Marriage creates the ideal, stable family unit: man, woman, and children. (This is the Catholic church's stance, and I saw it parroted by someone who is usually smarter than this. Kids, never let your church do your thinking for you)

Rebuttal: Half of these 'stable, ideal family units' end up in divorce. Not to mention the obvious fact that many family units are neither ideal or stable -- for every wonderful perfect nuclear family, there are dozens of abusive relationships, loveless marriages, etc. Two men, or two women, are equally as likely to be in a stable, loving relationship as are a man and a woman. As far as raising children goes -- well, it's a peripheral issue, but studies have repeatedly shown that children with gay parents end up just fine -- no more prone to neuroses than the rest of us, and no more likely to be gay themselves (almost as if you can't nurture someone to be gay or straight, like it's hardwired biologically).

And my favorite argument:
Marriage is a sanctified tradition -- its sanctity isn't tied to a specific religion, but to its status as an institution.

Rebuttal: Newt Gingrich, who spearheaded the Defense of Marriage act, is on his third marriage. Bill Clinton, who signed it into law, was notoriously unfaithful to his wife. Britney Spears was married for 24 hours. Yet no one (sadly) is arguing that politicians and pop stars shouldn't be able to get married. No one's arguing that anyone who gets divorced shouldn't get married again. No, we're only denying marriage to, say, lesbian couples who have been together for twenty years. The very fact that I could have met someone in a bar and married them the next day says a lot about the supposed sanctity of marriage.

So let's be real: the only reason people want to outlaw gay marriage is that they think their God isn't down with it. We don't make laws based on dieties' preferences, or the first Mormon president could outlaw Coca-Cola. It's not the way our country works.

So if you're an anti-gay marriage type, and you're still reading for some reason, just think about it: if you cast your vote for a politician just because they match your 'family values,' you're only fooling yourself. Jesus said to clothe the naked, feed the hungry, and care for the sick. Do you see Mr. Bush and his cronies engaging in any of those things?

Confusion!

Almost a month without a post -- my, my, my. I know exactly why, too: I can't decide whether this should be a blog to review movies and music and whatnot, or a blog about my personal life, or a ranting blog about random issues. Maybe it can be all of those things, since I'm not exactly trying to appeal to a specific audience.

So on a personal note: Jess is still progressing nicely with the pregnancy, and the nausea seems to be done for the most part. Pregnancy looks like extremely hard work, what with the fatigue, the body changes, the mood swings -- I think any guy who complains about his part of it (fetching random food cravings, doing housework) deserves to be kicked sqwah in the nuts.

My parents were here for about four days this past week, and it was a wonderful time. It's the first time I've been able to entertain my parents in my own house and feel like it was properly put together -- the first time they were here, we didn't even have the furniture in.

I felt like it put us on equal footing, somehow. Well, except that my dad knows way more about home care than I do, and I was perfectly happy to let him show me how to do some of this stuff. Looks like we might have actually fixed the leaky roof (knock wood). With that and the drain tile in the basement, there's a possibility our homestead is water-tight for the first time. Yay! And boo to the previous owner, for making us believe it was always thus.

To my fellow straight men out there who are scared by the prospect of marriage or baby-having, know this: the feeling you get of love and security when you're spooning with that girl you love? It doubles when you get married. And it explodes exponentially when that belly your arm is wrapped around has a baby inside of it. Give it a shot. Dumber people than you have made it work :-).

This.

Barack Rebuttal.

So I got an email from the Obama campaign after I sent them an angry letter. Looks like they were anticipating many an angry letter on this topic, so they had a boilerplate response. I think it looks pretty good -- I mean, I'm still annoyed at the politics of the thing, but less so at Obama. By the way, doesn't "Barack Rebuttal" sound like someone with a hideously fake asian accent saying "Brocolli Butter?"

Given the grave threats that we face, our national security agencies must have the capability to gather intelligence and track down terrorists before they strike, while respecting the rule of law and the privacy and civil liberties of the American people. There is also little doubt that the Bush Administration, with the cooperation of major telecommunications companies, has abused that authority and undermined the Constitution by intercepting the communications of innocent Americans without their knowledge or the required court orders.

That is why last year I opposed the so-called Protect America Act, which expanded the surveillance powers of the government without sufficient independent oversight to protect the privacy and civil liberties of innocent Americans. I have also opposed the granting of retroactive immunity to those who were allegedly complicit in acts of illegal spying in the past.

After months of negotiation, the House passed a compromise that, while far from perfect, is a marked improvement over last year's Protect America Act. Under this compromise legislation, an important tool in the fight against terrorism will continue, but the President's illegal program of warrantless surveillance will be over. It restores FISA and existing criminal wiretap statutes as the exclusive means to conduct surveillance - making it clear that the President cannot circumvent the law and disregard the civil liberties of the American people. It also firmly re-establishes basic judicial oversight over all domestic surveillance in the future.

It does, however, grant retroactive immunity, and I voted in the Senate three times to remove this provision so that we could seek full accountability for past offenses. Unfortunately, these attempts were unsuccessful. But this compromise guarantees a thorough review by the Inspectors General of our national security agencies to determine what took place in the past, and ensures that there will be accountability going forward. By demanding oversight and accountability, a grassroots movement of Americans has helped yield a bill that is far better than the Protect America Act.

It is not all that I would want. But given the legitimate threats we face, providing effective intelligence collection tools with appropriate safeguards is too important to delay. So I support the compromise, but do so with a firm pledge that as President, I will carefully monitor the program, review the report by the Inspectors General, and work with the Congress to take any additional steps I deem necessary to protect the lives - and the liberty - of the American people.

Business as usual? Yes we can.

Sigh. So Barack Obama is a regular ol' politician after all. Sure, he's still a politician with better ideas and viewpoints than his opponent in the presidential election, but the brief moment when we believed he wasn't politics-as-usual has passed. That carefully crafted image of a guy who sticks to his guns and crosses party lines to defend the common folk is just that: a facade. Underneath there's still that same ol' cynicism.

What I'm talking about is Obama's vote in favor of renewing the FISA act. That bill expands the government's ability to spy on us without warrants, and grants retroactive immunity to the companies who helped W. break the law before. It legitimizes and codifies some of the more heinous civil liberties infringements that this administration has perpetrated upon us and gives truly scary powers to the executive branch.

Obama's "yea" vote is stunningly cynical, the opposite of the personable, deeply compassionate facade he puts forth: those who find this vote repugnant, like me, aren't going to vote for McCain, so we'll still vote for him. And now he can appeal to those who were worried he's not tough on "the terrists," not committed to "MER-ka." I mean, way to go if it helps him get elected, but the stench of having voted yes to George W.'s Orwellian wet dream isn't going to go away soon.

Worse yet, those who favor the bill are still using the old "if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear" defense. And people are still buying it. Even a tiny little bit of thought would give the lie to that argument: once the government has the right to spy on you without cause, they always have it, and they can use it against whomever they like. The enemy du jour is the terrorist, which is already problematic (due to the notion that anyone who doesn't genuflect in front of the flag 24/7 while praising W. is a terrorist). But what if the next folks they go after are environmentalists? Or vegetarians? Or Christians? We've given the government a big ol' gun, and people are fine with it because at the moment it isn't pointed at them.

The roof, the roof, the roof is on water.

We don't need no fire, let the motherf***er leak!

I have some cautious hope about the state of the roof today, after a visit from yet another contractor. He's the kind of contractor I like: a sixty-year-old dude who has been fixing roofs for years and isn't interested in milking every last dime out of a young guy who is starting a family. Looks like he might return an estimate that's substantially lower, for the same amount of work. Go, old dudes!

Now if I could just stop my cats from believing that the entire basement is a litterbox, life would be grand.

My leaky little boat...

So after the last rain, we noticed some sizable bubbles in the ceiling in our bedroom. As they dried, they cracked, and the next rain will start the dripping. This makes me nervous, as I'd like to be shoveling money into a "Baby Dagmar Provision Fund," but all the ready cash (and a lot of credit) is going into just keeping our heads, feet, and furniture dry.

I think there's a song in all of this, and I'll have to take a day and write it up. I can feel it percolating in the back of my brain; something along the lines of Blues Traveler's "The Mountains Win Again," called "Water Always Wins." Knowing me, it'll start with the futile hopelessness of trying to keep it out, and end with a celebration of how water will always find a way. I try to be pessimistic, but it just doesn't work.

I'm currently cherishing in my mind the image of my wonderful wife on the 4th of July. We spent most of the day kicking back under a tree in a public park, and as it got dark, we broke out the sparklers. She was tired and had a headache and was feelin' the pregnancy, but she took a sparkler in each hand and danced around, lit by a gentle green glow, her face radiant. I looked at her and my heart leapt and I fell in love all over again. You'd think that two years of marriage, plus two more years of co-habitation, plus two more years of being together, would mean we could stop acting like newlyweds, already. Personally, I hope we'll still be baby-talking each other at Baby Dagmar's high school graduation.

As I said to Jess the other day, "it's a good thing that we love each other. Because that means all these other problems we come up against, we can solve. Most of them boil down to money, and money comes and goes pretty predictably. If we didn't love each other, we would only have one problem -- but it'd be the one problem that can't be solved."

Friends, I'm no genius, but occasionally I say a true thing. Even a blind pig finds an acorn every once in a while.

The Quotable Ethan...

"I respectfully disagree with your post-apocalyptic baby room decor."
--Ethan.

A pulse...

So we go to the doctor's office for Jess's checkup. We jitter in the waiting room, thankfully not for too long before we're called back to the exam room. The doctor tells Jess to pull up her shirt and pull down her jeans to "Britney Spears levels," so that she can use the Doppler machine.

The doctor spreads what can only be described as blue goo, or possibly smurf ectoplasm, on Jess's stomach and pulls a wand from a little machine that's mostly a speaker. She switches on the machine and we hear white noise: static, ocean, a seashell that aurally reflects the blood rushing in your ears. She moves the wand over Jess's slowly expanding stomach, searching for the heartbeat. We know we might not hear it; we might not hear it because sometimes you just don't hear it on the first visit, and we might not hear it because it might not be there.

The silence in the room is only amplified by the ocean sound coming from the machine. My wife and I stare into each other's eyes and I squeeze her hand tightly. Scratch-thump. Scratch-thump.

We both turn pathetically hopeful eyes to the doctor, but she shakes her head. "That's your heartbeat," she says, and goes back to searching for that other heartbeat that is (maybe should be we hope) hiding there. Scratch-thump. Scratch-thump. Jess's heartbeat again. The tension is unbearable.

And then, overlaid on top of Jess's steady Scratch-thump: scratchthumpscratchthumpscratchthump, exactly double-timed to Jess's heart, syncopated, a mad little drummer pounding out life, a beat you could dance to, and I feel like dancing and crying and Jess is crying, too.

scratchthumpscratchthumpscratchthump i am here i am building myself out of pieces of both of you i am here i am going wild just wait until you meet me scratchthumpscratchthumpscratchthump

Nothing else in the world is as important to me as that wonderful, beautiful, kinetic techno drumming of my baby's heart. As soon as I hear that sound, it's over for me, man. I don't care what happens as long as that beat keeps going; I'd throw myself under a bus, I'd take a bullet for that scratchthumpscratchthump.

Do it, child, do it -- bang those skins, pump that blood, make yourself. I can't wait to meet you because I already love you more than anything.

Dear god, the realization that this is just the first in an endless series of casual every day miracles to come.

I love you, Jess, and I love you, baby.

You know what's awesome? Bein' a dude.

So my lovely wife is ten weeks pregnant, and I am feeling vague twinges of guilt. She gets nauseated; she doesn't have much energy; her boobs are giant and painful, and it's all only going to get worse. Even worse, she can't relax, put her feet up, and have a beer or a smoke or something to take the edge off. I know she's deliriously happy to be growing a little person inside of her, and once the baby is here we can both take on the responsibility, but for now she has to do all the heavy lifting. To top it all off, she's the one who works full-time outside the home. I mean, she's not putting together cars or anything, it's a desk job, but she still has to get up early and come home late.

As I sit around writing blogs and smoking my hookah, I do wish there were a way for me to share in the burden of pregnancy. I try -- I try to get her anything she needs, be very patient and groovy and anticipate what will make her more comfortable, but in the end, I'm still on the outside. So all I can do is make sure she knows how much I appreciate her.

C'mon science, there ought to be a way for us to trade off. Like, "you take the uterus for a month, and I'll party like a rockstar, then we'll trade off." Lego pregnancy, that's what we need. Pop the belly off and snap it on somebody else, and just keep tradin' off.

Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'...

So every time I look at a calendar these days, I get a little jab of slightly queasy surprise. This year has been a procession of -- 'holy shit, it's February. Holy shit, it's March. Holy shit, where'd March go?' Even though there have been plenty of events that stand out and mark each month -- March was the trip to Vegas with Matt, Gretta, Zack, Aliah, Erin; May was the trip to Phoenix; April we spent remodeling the bathroom of death and despair -- it's amazing that this year is already half over.

Of course, looking back to the first of the year, at the New Year's Eve party, that seems like a lifetime ago. Time goes by quickly but has gone by slowly -- memories of moving into our house eight months ago have the same sepia-tint of nostalgia as memories of my high school graduation.

I'm not sure how to go about siezing each day and living in each moment and all that stuff that's supposed to keep time from sliding by. The unfortunate truth is that the things that make life easy are the things that make time go poof -- routine, for example. Spending hours on the computer, for example. It's amazing that someone with as little to do as me -- someone who works from home at a job that requires a maximum of two hours a day -- always feels crunched for time.

One of my college professors, after continued frustration at my last-minute papers and constant tardiness, told me "do not be a slave to time. Sieze it and use it or it will use you." Which is all well and good, but I'm not quite sure how to start. Maybe this blog will help - having something to distract me from all of the other distractions up in this piece.

Must See: The Fall

So there's a new movie out this week by Tarsem, the director of The Cell and many music videos. You probably won't find it playing anywhere but groovy, small independent theaters, which is a shame, but if it's anywhere near you, seek it out and see it. If you enjoyed the trippy visuals of The Cell, but didn't enjoy the Jennifer Lopez parts of it, you'll definitely enjoy The Fall. If you enjoyed Pan's Labyrinth and The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, you'll definitely enjoy The Fall; it splits the difference between the two.

It's set in California at the beginning of the motion picture industry. A young girl, a migrant fieldworker, is hospitalized with a broken arm. At the hospital, she meets a twentysomething man who was injured on the set of a movie -- though she doesn't understand that his injury was actually a suicide attempt. The man tells the girl a fantastic, Arabian nights/american tall tale story, and we see the story as it's filtered through the girl's imagination. As the story progresses, we learn more about the girl and the man and the way they relate to each other.

The movie has absolutely stunning visuals, but they're not just an end unto themselves: the fantasy sequences are absolutely in service of the "real-world" story and the characters. This is no sterile parade of images; it has a vibrant, beating heart that breaks and mends itself through the course of the narrative.

The reviews for this film have been frustrating. Like The Fountain, Lady in the Water, and Donnie Darko -- all movies I thought were incredible -- you get two types of reviews. The first is the cynical, hip reviewer who doesn't know what to do with a movie that is equal parts batshit insane and incredibly sincere. If it were just batshit insane, they'd praise it (lest they be found wanting in their cool hipness) -- witness the praise heaped on the sterile nonsense of Mulholland Drive, for example. But because The Fall actually has compassion for its characters, and dares to make big statements about heroism, love, and healing, it simply isn't cool to praise it. Instead, you have to rant about how the filmmaker's ego runs rampant on the screen: how dare Tarsem think he can tell us anything about the human condition? How dare he take big risks with image and story, even if those risks pay off? How dare he bring tears to my eyes? What a bastard. These reviewers are people who are burned out on movies in general, if you ask me. If you're unable to surrender yourself to the experience of a movie this masterfully crafted, you need a break.

The other type of review that pisses me off for a movie like this is the lazy review. For example, take this genius critic: "It doesn't make a bit of sense. And after a while, even pretty images become boring when there's nobody in them we care about." I remember similar criticism for Donnie Darko, and all that means is that the critic is unconscionably lazy. Folks, if it's your job to review movies -- if you're the lucky douchebag who gets PAID to do so, it behooves you to pay a modicum of attention to what's going on on-screen. It's not a hard story to follow, it's just slightly unconventional, and it heavily rewards the merest bit of attention paid.

Roger Ebert doesn't always get it right, but his review is spot-on; see for yourself.

The film is rated R for a few gory scenes -- this isn't the kind of fantasy where someone gets shot with an arrow and doesn't bleed. It's not as scary or as violent as Pan's Labyrinth, though, and of the same caliber. Go see it if you get a chance -- like Pan's Labyrinth or The Fountain, you'll kick yourself for missing it on the big screen.

Anniversary goodness!

Okay, so last night the missus and I celebrated two happy years of marriage. It was a great day, full of little wistful smiles as I remembered our wedding on the beach, our honeymoon in Jamaica, and all the little reminders that I am lucky beyond belief to be with this woman for the rest of my life. My mother-in-law found us an amazing restaurant in Minneapolis called The Cave Vin -- It's basically the same restaurant we ate at in Paris, a little hole-in-the-wall that serves fresh Frenchified food, different every day. The only difference is that it doesn't cost an arm and a leg to eat there. We had delicious, delicious frog legs (slightly fishy, slightly rabbit-y, very garlic 'n' buttery), king crab gnocchi, and a rack of lamb, and topped the whole thing off with a tiny, almost unbearably rich dessert called a "Pot de creme," basically super-concentrated dark chocolate pudding. Wonderbar. Jess surprised me with a beautiful card that brought tears to my eyes, and we basically acted like newlyweds the entire evening. We ended up going to see a movie afterward, the first time in our 6-year history that we've had a dinner-and-a-movie date. I'll review the movie in the next post, but just had to put in the date's details for future reference.

We ended the evening with a steamy (in more ways than one -- it was 90 degrees yesterday and humid) bedroom tryst, not that I'm going to provide many details. Just let it be known that my wife kicks ass, and the only way we can add more love to our household is by havin' a baby. By lucky coincidence, we're doing just that.

I'm feeling much better now.

Let it be known that after I wrote that post, I logged into Kingdom of Loathing and talked to a few people who helped me get over my whiny, silly, hand-wringin' self. Big ups to the likes of Werebear and Ashallond, who gently reminded me that being a father doesn't mean you can't be awesome anymore.

The whole world looks better from this end of the day, I have to say. Maybe I shouldn't post during the morning doldrums anymore.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Wow, looking at that first post, I think I said "30-year-old" at least five times. Guess what's on my mind these days, children?

I can't help but think about getting older, though, because giant, sweeping changes are coming, and I don't know what my life will be like after they hit. Right now I feel a combination of boredom, weird excitement, and dread -- like I'm floating in a little pond, ever-so-slowly getting closer and closer to a giant waterfall. I don't have any frame of reference for what comes next, except the assurance that I know people who have done it, and they're still around. Sometimes, though, that's just not enough assurance for me.

What I'm talking about is that me and the missus are going to have a baby in January. That definitely marks the end of an era that's a known commodity: lots of travel, parties, booze, and the occasional illegal substance, having a little extra money and loads of free time. I know the downsides to having a baby -- namely, the loss of all of the above -- but I've never experienced the upsides to it, so I have the trepidation without the assurance that it's okay. I know on an intellectual level that we'll love the baby, we'll be over-the-moon happy with the baby, and that it really *doesn't* mean the end of all the fun stuff -- it means less of that fun stuff, and more of a different kind of fun stuff. But tell that to my spine, man, because that doesn't stop the shivers.

I'm not saying I don't want to start a family; I do. I also think that the booze, the partying, the etc., does lose its luster after a while, and you eventually need some deeper pleasures in life, and that process has already started. It'll be a very empty life ten years from now if I'm still trying to party like a twenty-something. So I want this to happen; I just wish it didn't feel like I only have a year left to be relevant, and that year's already half over.

Aimee Mann and Kanye West...

So last week, me and the missus took in some quality live music. I had heard that Aimee Mann was playing at the Minnesota Zoo's amphitheater on the 12th of June, and booked those tickets well, well in advance. I had also seen that Kanye West would be performing at the Target Center on the 11th, but initially wasn't going to go. That wasn't due to any lack of awesome on Mr. West's part, just that I've never been to a stadium-venue show like that, and I tend to prefer a little more intimacy for live music, if you know what I mean.

Then I saw some of the props Mr. West was going to be using for his stage show, including the 20-foot-tall gold holographic dancing girls, and decided I'd kick myself for missing it. So we ended up seeing Mr. West on the 11th and Ms. Mann on the 12th.

The Kanye West show turned out to be pretty damned incredible. Sure, the performers were pretty far away, and the acoustics in the hall meant that if you didn't already know the song, you didn't have a prayer of catching the lyrics, but the energy and spectacle was well worth the trip. Lupe Fiasco opened the show, and I found that instead of just waiting for them to play Superstar, I was grooving on every track. Lupe's got an incredible flow, which he somehow sustains while doing everything but cartwheels on the stage. His style is equal parts nerdcore and gangsta, I would say, so it's part "check out my gold rims" and part "check out my giant battlebot."

After Lupe, N.E.R.D. took the stage. I wasn't as impressed with them as I was expecting to be, but they still got everyone, even my pasty 30-year-old self, jumping. I did, in fact, throw my hands in the air, and with no irony I waved them like I just didn't care.

The third opener was Rihanna, of Um-ba-rella fame. I wasn't expecting much from her, but was pleasantly surprised -- she's got a lot of personality and spirit. Her voice isn't as powerful as, say, Christina Aguilera, but she really gets into the songs. She's also ten pounds of sexy in a nine-pound bag. I maintain, by the way, that Um-ba-rella is a pretty damn decent song. Sure, it's a friend/end together/weather kind of thing, but there's no denying the propulsive chord changes and the giant, giant hook.

Between Rihanna and Kanye, they pulled a giant curtain over the stage and spent a good half an hour putting things together. When the curtain opened, we saw a moonscape-looking stage with a 10x10 video screen horizontally on top of part of it, another 20x10 video screen vertically sticking out of it, and a giant screen behind the whole thing. Kanye was lying on top of the video screen with his eyes closed, and a computerized female voice said, "wake up, Mr. West."

Yup, Kanye turned his stage show into an incredibly nerdy science-fiction rap opera. Turns out his spaceship, Jane, had run out of power, stranding him on an alien planet. He had to find the one thing that would fuel the spaceship and return him home, while kicking the shit out of his greatest hits. Spoiler: the only thing powerful enough to take the spaceship home was Kanye's giant ego. No foolin'.

So it was an incredible evening, and a reminder that those who get too caught up in labels and irony (more on that in the next post) miss out. If I had thought, "wait, I'm not a fourteen-year-old girl, I'm a 30-year-old white nerd and music snob; I can't go to this show, and it's totally beneath me, anyway," I wouldn't have seen these amazingly talented performers rock an arena full of good vibrations for damn near three hours. It was great stuff, and not to be missed.

I have less to say about Aimee Mann, mostly because as a 30-year-old white nerd music snob, she's definitely what I ought to be listening to. She put on a great show, though, with completely unaffected, ego-free banter, dealing with accolades and heckling alike with humor and charm. For example, some douchebag kept shouting "Voices Carry!" until she finally stopped, said, "now, you know I'm not going to play Voices Carry. What the hell's the matter with you? Check it out, this guy is totally losing his shit," all with a wry smile that got even the douchebag heckler laughing. I do wish she would have played more old stuff, as the set was mostly off her new album, but we got some of the classics, too. And she finally acknowledged the weirdness of the whole "we go away for a minute, then you applaud until we come back for the encore" thing. And then went ahead and did it anyway. Class all the way, Ms. Mann.

So if you like good music, some recommendations:

!#$@%# Smilers -- Aimee Mann's new album. I keep hearing that it's too similar to her other stuff, yadda yadda, but I loved it on first listen and it just keeps getting better. Like, say, Cake, Aimee Mann's someone with a definitive sound and a limited vocal style who somehow never gets boring.

The Cool -- Lupe Fiasco's second album, and the only one I have at the moment. It's not a home run -- there are a couple of songs that are fueled by samples made out of pure obnoxiousness. But the concept is neat, the lyrics are intelligent, and it's definitely worth a few spins.

Graduation -- Kanye West's album is a year old now, but I'm still listening to it with regularity. There's just something about that guy -- the giant ego, the dumb smart lyrics, the smart dumb lyrics, the off-the-wall production -- it's a good antidote to most mainstream hip-hop, which tends to be bitches 'n' bling set to somebody banging two keys on a Casio.

So yeah. New blog. Maybe I will write in it. We'll see.