Dainty

MY wife and I are always arguing, its always the same fight, and it always ends the same way. She always wins and I always cower. The argument is about which day was our first date and when did either of us decide that we liked the other. The argument really steams form me trying to remember if I was a douche or not. I have been a douche to so many women in the past, its hard for me to remember some times but I like to think that things are different with my wife. I try to think of how Malia deals with guys who are douches nowadays and I just can’t believe that she would have let me of the hook and yet I don’t ever having my soul crushed by her.  

Sometimes malia will come home and say “I didn’t want to tell you over the phone but today...” Some boy at the bank or in line at the grocery store will have stared at her and maybe asked for her number or something and that she had invariably turned them down and not gently she will have given them the “No Im married.” Now I don’t have a problem with her not accepting dates while married to me. What I do have a problem I have is that she just doesn’t have any tact when it comes to this little boys hearts. I use the term “little boys” because malia pretty much always indicates that they look like children incapable of growing beards. Which lets face it is the primary reason we are married to this day. So my wife is going around breaking hearts, and all of the sudden she comes home the other day (and yes my wife is a mega hottie, disagree, I dare you) The other day she comes home and says that she is waiting at a stop light when a boy rolls up in his small penis truck. (when we pass people with lifted trucks malia screams small penis at the top of her lungs, she is precious) So he pulls up, honks his horn checks her out and gives the “how you doin” smirk. 

At this point my dainty wife turns into something very different. She is a mom now so she totally has the power to rip lions in twain, lift cars off of babies and do that bulging neck vain thing. So he honks and my wife smiles signaling for him to roll down his window. Then while still stopped at the light in the lane next to she begins to rake him over the hot coals of, “Do you know how disrespectful that is, besides the fact that I am married, I have a baby who is asleep in the back seat. If your dumb ass had woken him up I would have gotten out of this car and kicked your ass.” He then proceeded to stammer his apologies and proceeded to drive off when the light turned green. Then still in a huff my lovely wife turned the corner to enter the parking lot where she works... At a small church. 

Needless to say my wife is awesome, I often worry that she will shoot someone if given the opportunity; but said opportunity has yet to present itself. Back to our argument, I am obviously sad for these guys whom’s dreams she has so recently crushed because I remember what it was like to be a bachelor. No matter what anyone tells you, asking a girl out is scary. The amount balls it takes to ask out a girl is way more than it takes for a girl to ask out a guy. Guys will get a yes maybe 5 times out of 10 but most decent guys won’t ever ask out 10 girls. Where as girls just have to trick guys they like into asking them out. WE ARE STUPID THAT IS EASY. Lets not forget the momentum killer that is a no. You spend weeks building confidence and talking to your buddies who are not supportive at all and when you finally have enough to ask. Her saying no can set you back for months. 

You are about to be part of a select group of two people who have heard this conversation. As I am bad at quotations I will write it like a movie script. 
To set the scene, I have just driven malia back to her house from some of our friends house after a rainy day spent at the beach were malia wore my wool coat and I wore a cold t-shirt, one that possessed little to no water retardant properties.

Mark: So I guess we should have that talk? Im sorry ______ drove with me, it was good to catch up, but I know that we had said we would talk during the drive.

Malia: Ya no, its totally ok I had a good time in  _______’s car we had a good conversation.

SILENCE

Mark: So I know that I’m not looking for anything casual so if you are thinking that this could just be a fling, or if you know you are leaving. I mean really neither of us know what are plans are for the fall so?

Malia: Well lets be honest, we hangout everyday and most nights Im at your house until 4am while we watch cartoons or documentaries or whatever. I mean really thats called dating.

Mark: Well when you put it that way its really hard to argue with. Then you have to know, I really want to get married and I know that I want to have babies so unless you want to date to see if we can get married this isn’t going to work.

Malia: I completely agree.

Like four months later we were engaged and three months after that we were married. So when I state my case in the argument of was I a gentleman when we were dating, and she always say no “you were a dick”. I retort back that I was nice and I invited her to hangout and go to barnes and noble (a reoccurring location on my places to take girls I like list). I invited her to watch stupid movies and boring documentaries about failed resort towns just north of palm springs. “You were a dick, you were always standoffish and made me feel like you didn’t like me.” Then I bring up the fact that I was the first one to say “That thing people say to each other when thats not like, I feel that for you” it was fourth of July and she had just jumped into the sound off the third story of a friends houseboat. Then there was the proposing with a vending machine ring that I found in my bedroom. The skipping down the isle at our wedding. My sweet beard, have I mentioned my sweet beard! 

No matter how hard or long I protest she is always adamant that I was a jerk, and thus she liked me first because even though I was a jerk she stilled hung out with me. That no matter how cute I was at any stage of our relationship, she was still better, firster, correcter. Now I must divulge that this fight is the kind of fight that you have either form different sides of the bed or from completely different rooms. You don’t need to be near one another because neither of us really have a dog in this fight. I know that she loves me and she knows that I love her. I can admit that I wasn’t super suave at any point ever! And she can admit that she was right. 

Here is the problem, there is this guy “LINK” and as far as I can tell he is totally for serious. I think that this may be a set up, but I prefer to believe that this was totally legit and on the up and up. To be fair, he is rather handsome so this would not work for every guy also she totally has that air or giddy freshman who just got hit on by someone she didn’t attend K-12 with. So while I can blow holes in this all day long I would rather think that it really is all just this easy. My wife is the outlier that will always ruin this idea but it should always be this simple. It shouldn’t involve discomforting glances, whistles, honked horns, or even sending drinks, however I do appreciate that hard rock cafe glass that guy sent my wife awhile back. Men everywhere should take a lesson from this guy, and realize that so long as its not my wife you probably have a chance. Certainly more of a chance than if you honk your horn at a woman with a carseat in the back.

Almost but on my way

So the way it starts is with me walking over to the computer and folding out the shelf cupboard thing. Then I adjust the green exercise ball into the compressed spot in the carpet so that my arms are resting on the shelf and my fingers are over the home row of the keyboard. I then curl my toes under so that its almost like Im standing on them but really it just makes it so that my lap is parallel with the ground. At this point I either open up a pages document as of late because I really want to start keeping track of my word count per day as both malia and I think about perusing the prospect of writing a book. (separately obviously) or I will just open up the internet and log into blogger and start typing directly into the window. I might have had a conversation with malia, or heard something on the radio, as anyone who reads my blog can tell most often its because I am really frustrated with something that I have recently heard or seen. I then begin to rant with only the occasional glance at the red squiggles underneath the words that I can’t spell or the apostrophes that I think should insert themselves in this day and age. 

The sad part is that without fail I get to about the three quarters mark and I realize that I don’t know how to finish. (insert joke) I look over what I have previously written and I realize that I have obviously strayed form my original point. Which is genuine because what is truly bothering me is genuinely never what is really bothering me. After I make a vague attempt at getting back on track and answering any of the questions I had previously posed and failed to give a response to I find myself still almost finished but none the less further down the page. I stop. I wait. I come back to it several hours, maybe even days later, having lost the flame I originally struck the keys for and now find myself just playing catchup to what I was trying to say before. I have also invariably done more research to the subject and often time now see the text from another sometimes different view. I find this frustrating.

Im not a writer why put this pressure on myself to write. I can’t even speak well and that’s like  writing but no one checks your spelling, and often time grammar doesn’t exist because of location or context or the group your speaking to. Where as on paper every is grading my spelling and grammar haters are just rolling on the floor unsure which sentence to make fun of first. But still I find myself addressing the keys making another attempt. And why shouldn’t I Mcklemore tells me that great painters weren’t born great, they were great because they never stopped painting. I can resonate with that, I once tried painting, well really it was a few times, but finger paints are disgusting and I feel like Im painting with someone else's puke. Then there was the time in college when I went to the art supply store and used my credit card (that was essentially maxed) to buy some canvases, some oil paints, and some nice brushes. Then I came home and having just watched a documentary on Rothko’s panels (which I think are beautiful) and proceeded to paint one six inch by six inch canvas with one small yellow rectangle stripe and a larger reddish orange square. It took me about 2 hours. I used my other canvas to try and do abstract art and see if I was any good at that. I was not. 

Then I think of all the things that I have heard about other actual famous successful (read, people who have written at least one book.) writers. Roald dahl, He wrote in the same room under the same blanket, in the same chair for like ever. I think he may have even eaten the same sandwich for lunch every day as well. Dr. Seuss was similar I believe. But I can’t do that I have a wife and a baby, it was all I could do to get one load of laundry done and feed Rory at the same time. I read 6 pages of a book over that time as well. I find myself completely incapable of doing anything consistently, I hate change but consistency is like the devils dad. Obviously there are things I do the same every time but I don’t think that makes me consistent. I always wash my left arm first then my and down my left foot. I always start brushing my teeth on the top right side, always floss before you brush thats just right its not about habit. Then when you think about the fact that I now have a job, that requires me to type some times then you think about the chances that I might in fact be harming myself because I want to write more. 

This is a whole whirl wind of ideas but as you the reader may have noted we seem to be winding down and that must mean that we have reached the magical last quarter of the story. Where in mark runs out of words while not having reached his word goal set out by himself. Well guess what dear awesome, astute, insightful reader you. You’re right. We are currently sitting at my proverbial 3/4 of the way done. Ive gone back and re-read what I started this with and realized how truly ritualistic I truly am. I’ve tried to fix the unfathomable amount of errors and that occurred above this point. I’ve thought of some poignant last words to impart on you that would make me think that I for some reason used this writing to answer my own questions and have now come to share with you my new found knowledge.

Guess what I’ve got nothin. What I do know is that if I just keep plugging away I will eventually reach my goal and the little train that could will be proud. I know that by just starting this little tale, lambert would be proud of me for trying to make something of myself instead of just staying inside my little cave or winter hiding. Dr. Seuss himself taught me that this whole thing started with one simple step and that where that one step leads me only time will tell. Obviously I know to stay golden, duh. The bouncing ball guy with a sad face from the old zoloft commercials definitely told me that being a boring sad ball sucks so go outside and play in the sun so that you can be a happy jovial ball... Or something like that commercials in the early 2000’s were really vague. The BFG taught me that being who you want to be is always better than being who everyone else thinks you should be. Countless other authors have taught me about ecology, conservation, restoration, social justice. Shell Silverstein taught me just about everything I needed to know about nothing and calvin taught me everything about everything  that has ever or will ever be important, he also taught me the kind of life I should aspire to while I’m here. (My wife informs me that I need to make it abundantly clear that I mean Calvin and hobbs and not john calvin, that guy was a downer)

What I’ve learned is that everyone had something to say, everyone had a reason to write. Until their reason was realized I’m sure they wrote things that never got finished. I can’t imagine that everything Dr. Seuss wrote was published. So maybe now as Im just getting into blogging and writing I might have as many drafts saved as I have published. And maybe my average page views in a day can be counted on the had of a mammal without opposable thumbs, and or a missing another flange as well (three toed sloth is the answer.) But eventually some day at some point there will be a time when I get to say just like all the rest. Ya I write, its not all gold but some people like it, and if nothing else at least Im willing to put myself out there. Sometimes if I’m lucky I even reach my word count goals. 

Dang only one thousand four hundred words

How the world turns

Pretty sure thats a soap opera tag line. When did everything change? When did it all go different? Who the frak knows! all I know is that my two week old baby is now five and a half months old and wholly crap time is moving fast. Its not that he is bad, he is a baby and when he doesn't get what he wants then he gets upset, when he gets upset that usually means crying, grunting, or screaming and honestly I can't blame him. I would love to be able to scream every time I didn't get my way, if nothing else I would at least feel like I had made a final attempt to get what I wanted. I think of when he gets older and how we will teach this out of him, if you protest about not getting your way that makes you a poop face and no one will like you. But that is crap! I think of Rory going through school and wanting to know more but being unable because "it isn't on the test" well guess what there is a bigger test coming!



-Right, about the test.Listen closely: The test will measure whether you are an informed, engaged, and productive citizen of the world, and it will be administered in bars and offices and dorm rooms and places of worship and hospitals and yes even schools.. You will be tested on first dates, in job interviews, while watching football, while scrolling through your twitter feed. The test will judge your ability to think about things other than celebrity marriages, whether you'll be easily persuaded by empty rhetoric, and whether you'll be able to place your life and your community in a broader context. The test will last your entire life, and it will be comprised of millions of decisions which, taken together, will make your life yours. And everything-everything- will be on it. I know, right? So listen up: 

-@realjohngreen

I look back at my own school and while I am unable to write this without spelling (even when aided by spell checker) or perfect grammar, that is by no means the fault of my schools fault. There were obviously lunchrooms, classrooms and the football field was more expensive than all the textbooks in the school combined, plus the tech levy of the year it was built. (but football brings in money when people come watch the games, its there money to spend) if you said that, stop reading this and go sit on a thumb tack. Someday I will lay out why I have a problem with organized sports but today is not that day! Again I digress, there were good teachers and there where bad teachers at my school, there were teachers who needed to retire, and there were teachers who loved to teach so they would retire every year and re apply and interview every summer so that they could continue to teach without breaking the schools budget. There I learned many lessons such as, don't have fun, always do your homework, and if your likable you can get anything.

There were other lessons that I learned while in school that were less than positive. Don't ask questions, especially if the teacher doesn't know the answer, don't be inquisitive, if you need to know something someone in charge will tell you. School will train you to work on an assembly line, they will teach you to read directions, count, and write down what you did. I am now 25 years old and I can honestly say that I have spent the last several years trying to break the non learning cycle. Mr. Soldano taught me who things while I was in class, but I learned three. What I learned was that sour patch kids are a necessary addition to popcorn. Now for what he taught me, 

"maybe you shouldn't read next time" 

was said to me after getting a daily quiz back after having actually read the material, I was told that I did better when I just guessed. 

"History is written by the winners"

The second thing he taught me and the second most important thing I learned next to the sourpatch kid thing.

So if the winners are recording the truth and then that one sided truth is being taught to us, how are we supposed to say that we are learning anything. Ask any brit how they feel about the US and the revolutionary war. I am 25 and only now am I actually thinking critically about the world around me and how I fit into it. We raise all these people and tell them that they are ready to go at 18, your done this is the bare minimum you will need to get through life, then on the first day of college they sign up for a credit card to get a frisbee and by junior year they commit suicide because they have $20,000 in credit card debt. Only now that I am hoping to leave on mission am I wanting to research an Archimedes screw, as opposed to a sleeve pump, or a piston pump. That makes me ashamed of myself for not trying to learn something everyday. 

Look at Rory, add more to his collective knowledge in 20 minutes than I do in a year. Ya obviously I have already mastered many of the things he is weeks from approaching, but he is always trying! He is five months old and moments away from crawling, moments from saying his first words and getting a grasp on language. Every second that he tries something new he is improving and his time is never wasted. Imagine if babies got discouraged and quit when they couldn't get something right off. I quit trying to paint because I painted two canvases and decided that I was no good. Rory has spent his whole life trying to pick his head up, crawl, walk, communicate, breath! Think how fast humanity would end if babies were as apathetic as most people you know, never striving, trying, persevering. Even in our schools we are told you preserver, unless you get a bad grade, or if the levy doesn't pass, then we will cut the program. 

Between TED.com, youtube.com/crashcourse, youtube.com/scishow, THE INTERNET! why are we thinking that school is the only way to teach. Rory will not be going to public school and that means especially public schools in America. That is coming from someone with two teacher in-laws. Why do we stop complaining, why do we stop crying when we don't get what we want. Why don't we scream when we see people who stop learning, people who get stagnant, when we get stagnant. Aside from screaming how do we change something that we don't even recognize as broken. We all need to be a little more like babies and a little less like adults, it might save the world.