The Beginning of the End of the DC Universe

I'm not writing this to take a stance on the "New 52" DC universe reboot that is now swiftly nearing its first anniversary. Whether I, or you, like it or not, it's done and supposedly doing ok from a market standpoint so it's not going anywhere. What I want to do is examine where "the problem" began for DC comics that necessitated this hard reboot in the first place.

DC has had many "soft" reboots throughout the ast 30 years (a soft reboot, for those not hip to the jargon, would be a rewriting of some histories while preserving the general majority of extant history so that a continuing line of stories keeps moving forward with its decades of printed history more or less intact), most notable Crisis on Infinite Earths and Zero Hour but while they often caused new problems all their own, they didn't quite ruin everything for everyone.

Marvel Comics has a long history of "event crossovers" that run through their entire line of books, invigorate sales and then, oh about half the time, go forward to build on everything that follows. DC wasn't big on doing this for quite some time, not like Marvel, and these structures worked well enough for both.

And then came along the DC event that changed it all. It irrevocably darkened the DC Universe. It dirtied the major heroes of the DC universe. It ruined the DC universe, a fact that then took close to ten years to fully play out and result in the "new 52." That invent was a little critically acclaimed series titled Identity Crisis.

I'm not going to go into more depth on the narrative mess that it was, setting up a storyline heavily played in to one thing that ends up having nothing to do with anything important to the story at all (the mindwipes of Dr. Light and Batman). Though that brand of poor storytelling is definitely one of the problems. But the real problem is that this was the big event, the one that alienated older fans of the Silver Age Justice League with the rape of one of their beloved characters and the trip to murderous insanity for another (and the heroes doing mindwipes); this was the event that put a pall over the while damn thing and opened the door on a succession of further events that took age-old heroes and dirtied them up. Until, finally, the majority of the heroes in the DC universe are so broken, so "dark" where they never were before, that they aren't recognizable to their fan base, they aren't selling books. Identity Crisis was their cancer, and the New 52 was just their final death knell.

Why on earth did the folks at DC even want to chase this model of darkness? Surely they saw Marvel's success again and again with their big events. Their big, dark events. The problem is, Marvel's big dark events didn't leave it's shiny and bright heroes muddied and ruined in the aftermath. House of M and Avengers: Disassembled? Wanda was already a character with years of individual darkness and demons to battle. Her causing problems for the Marvel universe didn't ruin anyone else. Planet Hulk? Another character with a less-than-bright history leading up to the event, another event that didn't categorically darken the brighter characters afterwards. Civil War? Iron Man's another one with demons, another gimme. If DC looked at these as a template for what they should be doing, they missed the more important after-effects of the stories while concentrating too hard on the sensationalism.

And so they started their own series of unfortunate events. They forgot the heroes and made them too human, too broken and frail, too dirty. Their events were a terminal disease on their line, and their vector point for first contact was Identity Crisis.

I don't know why I didn't realize IC was what killed the DCU prior to yesterday, but now the more I think about it, the more I can't believe I didn't see it.

50 Book Challenge 2012, Book 33

I Am Number Four by Pittacus Lore (collective pseudonym of James Frey and Jobie Hughes)

Firstly, a technical note for people who read this on the Kindle. I don't know if it's universal, but my version had pages with the first line of each chapter and nothing else as a sort of preface to the actual book starting. Also, every single incidence of a double "L" in text dropped the second letter L. Al  the people fal ing into wal s occasional y got to be distracting.

Now, I saw the movie last year without knowing it was first a book and the only real impact seeing the movie had on my read was my mind inserted Tim Olyphant, Alex Pettyfer and that chick from Glee into my visual for the characters of Henri, John and Sarah as I read them.

This is a YA novel and the romanticism (and therefore frequent stupidity) from John over Sarah made me feel like vomiting pretty consistently. It also made me question why Henri didn't push harder for them to leave when signs of trouble came up (though the last two chapters offer the promise there's an actual logical reason for this--to be revealed in the second book, which I wil  probably eventual y read.)

I enjoyed the book over-al  though. It was entertaining and did a real decent job explaining its back-story. I would have liked a little more depth into the psyche of many of the characters though. Sam is much more ful y developed in the film than in the book.

I give the book a solid B.

The Nature vs Nurture Debate

"Homosexuality is a choice"--every hate-filled self-proclaimed Christian in the Western world

(Before I move forward, knowing some people may not read closely and get upset by me saying everyone who professes to be Christian is hate-filled; that isn't what I said.)

"Homosexuality is a choice."

You know, I really wish that were true.

I wish I could have chosen to be straight: that there was no tell-tale lack of straight masculinity in my childhood that ear-marked me for being picked on, bullied, called "fag."

I would have chosen for my own silence and suppression on the subject to have worked. For three, three step-fathers not to instinctively know I wasn't straight and shove me around at home and repeatedly shame me in front of family and public as a fairy.

I really would have chosen not to get that erection in the locker room in high school while minding my own business and trying to change for P.E. while a "very straight" jock was talking on and on about his dick as he waved it around. In that moment, being straight was perhaps the biggest wish of my entire life.

I would have chosen not to feel badly as I almost married the most hate-filled "Christian" woman I could find, or as I stood silently by while a meth-head supervisor fired a gay coworker in 1994 because he was a danger to the rest of us.

If I could have chosen to be straight, I wouldn't have lost my foster children over my sexuality and they, hopefully, would have turned out with better lives in a home that respected and loved them than the group homes that followed and treated them like refuse.

Today, completely out about my sexuality, if I could choose to be straight, so that my own children aren't persecuted and bullied because of who their daddy is, so that I can walk home from a night out with friends without worrying about whether it will be the night I get jumped by some drunk redneck looking to teach a fag a lesson. . .if I could make the choice to be straight I still would.

But I can't make that choice. And I'm at peace with who I am (and I happen to like me). So I'm going to love the life I have rather than hate myself for the things I can not change.

And you, if you believe homosexuality is a choice, I have a far easier choice to propose for you: how about you choose to be the Christian you profess to be and stop being a dick.

"Don't be a dick" is a choice we can all stand by.

Regarding those Doombots armed with lightsabers and explosive golden snitches

(Trigger warning: I use the word "fuck" a lot in this essay, as I often do when talking about my love The Tower. If this will hurt your sensibilities, mute away please)

"No really... WTF??? I suppose he's playing with modern mythologies but... no. It really didn't work for me. " +Adrienne Kent

Adrienne is talking about the big reveal about the identities of the titular characters from Dark Tower V: Wolves of the Calla and all the ridiculousness that they are. I am currently half-way through my second re-read of this book as book 34 for me in the 50 book challenge, so this may or may not sub in as my write-up for that book when I finish it likely sometime in the next two days.

Now, I get Adrienne's outrage here. Stephen King is pretty fucking ridiculous; at least that's how I felt the first time through as well (though even these pale before his blatant Mary Sue-isms in books 6 & 7, and yet I deeply understand the analogy he's drawing with those instances as well and will cover them when I re-read those books).

The gist is this: I forgive Stephen King a few dumb moves in an 8 novel saga spanning more than thirty years of writing. The end product is still a whole that deeply moves me.

Enough of that, let's tackle those Wolves. Lash and I were discussing the Tower recently while on a laundry excursion, and the ridiculousness of the Wolves' identities came up in that conversation as well. I'm going to try and cover the main points of my discussion with him as to why I only give a slight smile and shake of the head now as opposed to saying something like "and with that, I'm out" (which is an understandable visceral reaction for me. I did once write an essay called "Fuck Stephen King, Fuck Him in His Fucking Ear" mid-way through my first read of book 7. I will share that after +Adrienne Kent finishes that book).

For some reason, it's varying degrees of less ridiculous that King, in the books leading to this, builds upon, changes, adapts or outright mangles other stories from our collective body of culture in order to weave them into the world of the Tower as some sort of Fable analogue for how our modern mythologies are all symbols of greater things in some psycho-babbly Jungian way, but when it comes to the Wolves we have a convergence of three of these--and I think it's this convergence that throws it for people.

I also think this convergence, this absolutely ridiculous convergence, is genius. Let's look at the dark scary figures from our popular culture over the last 20 odd years, they have a lot of traits in common (and the same traits in common with the dark characters of more ancient folklore): evil magic, inhumanity often masked by robes or cloaks, and scary mystical weapons. Our black knights, our bogeymen, are the Deatheaters. They're Darth Vader. For some they're Dr. Doom. All of these things have inhumanity, mythical powers & weapons, and scary cloaks. King's only done what George Lucas, Stan Lee and JK Rowling had already done for us: taken Tolkien's Nazgul and made them modern-scary (which he did by taking from stories of the Black Knight, Modred, Grendel, etc.).

King already set himself up a position where the Wolves couldn't just be mere mortals, otherwise the challenge wouldn't be the same. But to preserve the western aspect of this particular novel, he still needed the black knights on horseback with weapons no mere mortal could stand up to. So he gave us Doombots armed with lightsabers and explosive golden snitches. And they're fucking ridiculous. And if you erase the ridiculous and look at them objectively--they're also pretty successfully fucking scary.

One could argue (I did) that a more masterful ploy would have been to invent your own new archetype. But the problem with inventing an archetype is you've no way of knowing if it's going to work out. Darth Maul is designed to be scary, to look scary, to inspire fear. You know what? He doesn't. Not in any way at all like three seconds of Darth Vader breathing off-screen inspires fear.

The Wolves are meant to be primally scary, and they're simultaneously kind of silly, but they still pull off what they're meant to. They are evocative of the dark and scary monsters of our culture.

Another Year of School Beginning, Another Year of Battling Counselors Looming, the Latest Armor For My Son

For those not in the know, or in need of a history refresher on my struggles with my son's schooling and counselors over the last two years, please refer to these past G+ posts (and additional material I provide in the comments):

https://plus.google.com/u/0/117177089600960301954/posts/f3g6xGumydP

and

https://plus.google.com/u/0/117177089600960301954/posts/gXzTDtXNSGH

Today my son was finally fully assessed for the possibility of placement somewhere in the autism spectrum, or a diagnosis of ADD/ADHD: things my son's school wants so they can require a pill can be foisted on my son, or placement in a special ed class to excuse their inability/unwillingness to help him, and things my ex-wife wants in order to excuse herself from responsibility as an unengaged and inattentive parent.

The results are that my son is not autistic, at all. He does not have ADD/ADHD. The team's assessment is that he's a normal seven year-old boy behaviorally. He has a minor speech impairment (his R's and his L's are hard to understand) that they are going to make the school address for me with speech therapy. They think the school listens to his speech and jumps from there to autism and/or ADD/ADHD and are somewhat surprised the school's never considered speech therapy. They think the school needs to look at the differences in his behavior and productivity on my days versus his mother's and are going to stress that with them for me.

I mentioned that my ex-wife would push for a diagnosis of synesthesia  next instead of dealing with the actual problems and the doctors flat out said that thinking he has synesthesia, based on the 4 hours they spent with him, is absolutely ridiculous.

A normal seven year-old boy.

I have been saying this for so long. Alone. Finally having someone with any authority agree and support this...I've been fighting tears of relief and joy all day (I don't want to confuse the kids).

School starts in one week. The same counselors and administrators who have constantly refused to respect my thoughts and my son are all still in place. I have no hope that things will be different with their approach or mindset, but if this does change anything for my son, I will be happy.

My ex-wife, upon receiving the good news, immediately began questioning the validity of the doctors' assessment.

50 Book Challenge 2012, Book 35

New Discoveries by Matt Zachary



I picked this up because I wanted some smut and there's a distinct absence of non-hetero smut on my Kindle, and in general.

This...disappointed. It took more than a chapter before I could tell the main characters apart they were so two-dimensional and similar. The plot is one of a straight guy discovering he's gay while hanging out with his gay coworker (absolute fantasy land right there, for sure) and tries to cover the spectrum of gay experience from understanding your own identity and coming out, or not, those awkward tentative first forays into sexuality and friendship, relationship-building, etc. But it all just really falls flat.

And the sex? It's actually very sparse, fairly nondescript and not exactly sexy, arousing, erotic. I won't be following the further adventures.

50 Book Challenge 2012, Book 34

Dark Tower V: Wolves of the Calla by Stephen King.

Goodness how I enjoy this book. Some great, and sad, moments for Jake. Callahan and his entire #amazeballs story. That scene where Eddie is walking Andy out to his death. Callahan's horror at discovering his back story exists in a fiction novel. . .

I really enjoy almost every element of this novel. I have always hated Susannah and all of her personalities. The addition of Mia here, and to come, exacerbates this hatred but I'm looking forward to all of the Susannah-free Eddie when I get on to book 6 again. And I get the ridiculousness of the wolves themselves sure (and I've already discussed that in detail here: https://plus.google.com/u/0/117177089600960301954/posts/1e4P7oYLJ1C

My edition of the book has these fabulous full-color illustrations by horror legend Bernie Wrightson. Very early in the book there's an illustration of the Wolves. That, plus the very early naming of the "sneetches" and description of the wolves sight unseen I think better prepared me for the shocking silly reveal at the end. I think writing the series off or getting too frustrated with the while thing over characters that are in only 1.4% of one novel is serving ourselves a disservice, but I also understand the nature of straws breaking camels' backs, so this could be a moment where that happens for readers. I'd hope not...but everyone has their own roads to take on their journeys to the clearing at the end of the path.

I still hope to see you there.

Domestic Violence = "Relationships Have Their Ups and Downs"

I'm finally getting around to dragging myself through the Avengers vs X-Men crossover story event in all of its ridiculous and this particular page demanded comment.

Overlooking the "family vs family" scenario has already been overdone in every major cross-over event of the last 20 years for Marvel, I think this stood out as more heinous because of the dismissive commentary added to it.

We have 5 X-Men teams vs 5 Avengers teams spread across the globe, so family vs family match-ups could have been more easily avoided. But no, Captain America sends Black Panther and Quicksilver to Storm and Magneto's locations (their spouse and parent respectively) where they do battle. Even then, enough people are at each location that the family members could have been at ideological odds without physically confronting each other.

But that's just not cool enough.

So instead, we get a shot of Black Panther bashing his wife from behind and knocking her out. But don't worry, these things happen because, as Magneto tells you (and teaches everyone reading this comic) "ups and downs are common in relationships."

Beautiful

People are really fucked in the head when it comes to their looks and self-esteem. I want to tell you all: just let it go. Society has fucked you up. Pop culture has fucked you up. Your friends and family have fucked you up. You fucked you up.

Just let it all go. It's a hard lesson to take. It's a hard path to follow. But no one's opinion of you matters. You look fine.

There is no perfection. There is no ideal to chase. Some people like anorexically thin people. Some don't. You are never going to catch the perfect ideal that everyone else finds attractive, because everyone else will never agree upon what is attractive.

So be you. Dress however makes you happy. Eat what you want. Or eat healthier because you care about your health, not because you care about what other people think of your waistline or dress size. Wear make-up, don't. Shave, don't. Stop putting your image of self-worth into how you perceive other people judge your appearance. Be free.

Months ago I was watching a program on Palladia--some music program like Storytellers (but not Storytellers ) where an artist talks about their song or process and then performs the song, etc. This particular episode had Christina Aguilera talking about the first time she met Linda Perry, how she came across the lyrics to one of Perry's songs and sang it to herself while Perry was in another room. How Perry heard her singing and realized the same thing I'm trying to say here: we all have fucked up images of ourselves, no matter how pretty the rest of the world does or does not see us. We all face the same insecurities and struggles. Aguilera reports she went on to record that song, "Beautiful," in only one take.

More recently, a discussion broke out in one of my circles, where one of the people involved was incredibly down on themselves, making worth statements so tied in to their appearance that they seemed unable to see anything else or to recognize the beautiful wife, family and friends who all love him just as he is.

People, I know most of you who've gotten this far are going to nod your heads and then forget all about this. But if you can find it in you to take this message and to strive towards something better then make it a part of your daily routine to accept who you are, to let go the concerns over how you look, and work on things that really matter instead.

This is me 0:20 in

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-FG4iIA8XIg&feature=player_embedded

This is me, take it or leave it

I am neither Republican nor Democrat, though I have been both. I believe we, the people, have lost the way.

When I was much younger my grandparents taught me to fish and to hunt (slingshot, bow, gun) and how to care for and respect my gear. I've also actually experienced a high school shooting; I know the feeling of abject terror, of people gunned down and still I do not support the idea of removing the right of the populace to own guns. Because crazy and evil, they still find a way. It's time we worked on the crazy and evil of the world, and stopped focusing on tools.

I do not care who you do or do not believe in. The odds are extremely high it isn't the same as me. And I'm all right by that. And it's ok with me if you talk about your faith--as long as you understand the difference between talking about your faith and proselytizing. And don't take my acceptance of your faith as an agreement with it.

I believe drugs should be decriminalized. This does not make me a druggie. It makes me someone who believes people should be able to do whatever they like to their own bodies without our impediment. I think we should all recognize our own high horses and cast aside our alcohol, tobacco, caffeine, prescription drugs, sweets, sex, internet and Indian casinos before we think it's at all not hypocritical to judge drug users for their use and addictions.

I wholly support a woman's right to choose. I also expect any woman I am with to accept that while I am Pro-Choice, if a fetus of mine were ever aborted, our relationship would be aborted with it.

I am a member of the LGBTQA community and that's my business, as who you choose to spend your days with is yours. I believe in equality in all ways for all people, not in all ways for some people and some ways for none.

I believe the world is decidedly short on people who are logical, who believe in personal accountability (and practice it) for their actions and feelings, who are trying to make the world in any way a better place and that it is long on people who are selfish and willfully ignorant.

I am who I am and I work on the issues I see in myself. If a person can't take this, they can go with my blessing. My promise is this: whatever I believe, I will endeavor to not be a dick to you. All I expect back is the same.

Peace out.

50 Book Challenge 2012 #36

Watership Down by Richard Adams.

It's probably been 26 or so years since the last time I read this novel, 22-23 since I saw the film. Re-reads of the Tower and talks with +Adrienne Kent have set me back on the path to reading it again after such a long time. It's nice to remember how much I loved this book, and it's nice to be able to come back to it with such a cloudy memory of it so that I could experience it again almost as if experiencing it the first time.

So now I am completely paranoid about driving my car.

Around 4:30 pm I rolled in and paid the $870 for the work that was done (about $250 more to go on repairs I can put off a short while) and I completely forgot my checkbook so I use my ATM to pay it off--no big deal except it's almost 5 and I forget there's a cash limit on my ATM per day. So I drive the car to the gas station and am totally denied because of my spending limit. Thankfully, my bank is across the parking lot and closes at 6 so I rush there and withdraw $40 and return to the gas station.

About 4 gallons into my pumping I start to hear liquid splashing against the pavement--my gas tank is leaking. I Immediately call the shop and get their automated recorder (they close at 5 too) and decide I'm driving it back to them immediately anyway: if there isn't someone still there, I'm parking it on their doorstep and confronting them first thing in the morning. Thankfully the owner and his brother are still there and the owner immediately starts getting to work on fixing their screw-up while the brother calls the mechanic responsible to ream him one and demand he come back to work to fix it.

It's 105 degrees Fahrenheit, I am dirty and sweaty and am supposed to meet someone for a platonic coffee date at 6:30--I call them to cancel and they decide to come out to me in case I end up needing a ride from the shop. The mechanic shows up and takes over from the owner and fixes the car.

So now I get in and it won't even start. Meanwhile, as I'm trying to turn the engine over, every time I crank it, my friend says she sees gas gushing out from under the car. It turns out the mechanic didn't pay attention to the owner's communication about what still needed done and missed a few crucial steps.

Yes, they fixed it and I was able to start it just fine, drive it to the gas station, fuel it up, etc. and make it home.

But now I am absolutely paranoid about trying to drive it again. Hopefully, my recognition of this irrationality will be enough to erase it by morning. And hopefully the mechanic didn't forget anything else crucial. We'll know the answer to both of these things tomorrow.

Depression

Today has been the kind of day that reaches down and crushes me with the reminder of just how alone I am in the world, or just how close one bad misfortune can lead to absolute disaster.

The day began like any other, with me driving the kids to school. My car is 21 years old, but I keep it maintained; I take care of it. And it died in the parking lot of the kids' school. Between license renewals and a very expensive 6th grade field trip for Aeia, I have $8 discretionary income this month (and savings was destroyed last year when I had to keep the lease on our old, far too expensive, place on one income--since then it's been month-to-month and being frugal) and my insurance company dropped roadside assistance from my policy when I changed it to remove my ex-wife. I couldn't even afford the $50 for a tow truck and have no friends in the area who I feel close enough to to borrow even that little (or, because they're struggling students, have that little to offer). All the while I'm getting glared at by my son's asshole principal (see my post from about two weeks ago as to why I have that opinion of him) as I'm checking the very few things my limited mechanical knowledge knows to check.

This is when it comes home just how much it sucks to be a single parent with no support structure in place. Living in a college town, as soon as you grow close to someone they graduate and move away. My nearest family is hours away. My nearest family that gives a damn is farther. I always feel very alone in the world, but I try my best to mask it with the friends I have here, even as we all keep each other at an arm's distance.

How I manage dropping and picking kids up from school, dropping and picking kids up from their mother's (don't even ask why she can't do it...the answer is best summed up as she is ridiculous), groceries, 3-4 doctor's visits per week (most of them not even in town ), laundry...other emergencies without transportation...I don't know. What I know is I feel myself literally getting older under the crushing weight of it all.

I won't have the discretionary income to have the car diagnosed, let alone fixed, until August 18th. Still, if I can make it to the end of May, the kids will be out of school, I can stop seeing the doctor for three months and try to figure something out regarding transport of kids to/from the ex.

Serotonin

My son Rael has finally made a friend at school. It's been about 4 weeks. It's going well enough I've encouraged a sleep-over here a play date there. His friend's mom saw my situation at the school today and arranged to have my car towed home. And helped me out with picking the kids up after school today. Between her and another newer friend I have some help tomorrow and the next day as well. If I can figure out the next three weeks, the last three weeks of May and of school, I can get out of this completely overwhelmed feeling.

This other friend has also been asking around his own circles for help finding someone with mechanical aptitude who can at least help me discover the problem and work towards an estimate.

My favorite Canadian and some of you here have been a good despair distraction today, most of you not knowing it. And I appreciate it.

About an hour ago, the girlfriend of one of my tabletop gaming group members, who goes hitchhiking every summer for fun, has offered me her car for the months of June through when she needs it back mid-August. There are insurance and other logistics to work out so it's not 100% a sure thing at this point. But it's still a kindness I never would have sought or expected.

I still don't know how I'm going to get through the next three weeks. I can't see my friends having the patience to let me mooch that much, be that much a taxi for me, and the whole thing with the loaner car afterward can still fall apart. But for the moment, I have a little hope.

Sometimes people surprise you.

Love This

she said,
cinching the ropes
holding my wrists at my lower back--
as she’d already done my ankles.

Behind me,
her lips at my ear:
“Open your mouth.”
Pulling my hair, my head back,
two fingers slide past my lips;
they taste like her cunt,
sticky
savory...sweet.
And then gone.

“You want more.”
She does not ask.
My mouth opening,
she shoves a hard rubber ball in
mid-reply.
Straps clasp behind my head,
locking it in place.

The bed bounces as she moves,
holding my kneeling pose
becomes a strain.

And there she is:
naked, glorious, bare
standing before and above me,
grabbing my chin,
forcing my gaze up her body--
the full curve of her breasts
and the ceiling light above her
conspiring to hide her face
in flesh and shadow.

“You’re too pretty boy.”
Three sharp, stinging, slaps
spread her words
across my face,
bringing water to my eyes
her laughter to my ears.

Fingers in my hair again,
pull my face into her belly:
the hint of baby powder
and vanilla
caress my senses,
my lips centimeters close--
so far away.

She shoves me flat to the bed,
rests her weight on my arms,
crushing them to my back,
her feet on my shoulders
tell me she’s facing away.
Heat spreads across my ass
as the stinging cedar paddle falls
louder than my muffled screams,
stronger than the hard-on
crushed between me and her bed.

When this stops everything is gone:
her weight
the pain
my breath--
waiting for her,
for her breath
warm against my neck,
her hips atop my tender ass.
Penetrating fingers and words
call me her toy.

The fire of her hard cock
spreading me open.
“Love this”
she says.

*********

Written for the +May I? writing project. New poem by me 5-6-2012

#MayI #NewPoem #DEvanPetersonPoetry

Revival

I'm thinking of reviving this blog as a mirror for my Google+ writings since their archiving is pretty shit there. Of course, some things I post there aren't to public, but this blog is only open to 24 trusted readers, so... if you've been missing my posts here and haven't followed me to Google+ yet, start watching this space again.

Well, pt 2

I've come to a decision about the future of the blog here as discussed a couple posts back in "Well." I think it's time to close Shade and Sweet Water's doors. I expect this will be the last post extant on this blog.

The reality of it all is that Google+ is the answer to my entire dilemma. From there I can blog and adjust the privacy of each blog post on a case-by-case basis. I can share the pop culture write-ups with one audience, and the personal tales with another and not have to worry about shutting it all off from the casual reader unless I specifically want or need to given the context.

If you want to keep reading my future writings and you don't already know how to find me on Google+, send me an e-mail at thewritestuff@gmail.com and tell me who you are and ask;I'll hook you up with how to find me from there.

To everyone who has read me over the years, whether I know you personally or not, you have been a part of my life and I hope you've enjoyed your time here. I'll be seeing you around.

Shade and sweet water,
Evan Peterson

Why I am Liking Google+

By far the biggest attraction for me to Google+ thus far is the implementation of circles and what they mean for privacy.

I've seen friends who fell victim to workplace reprimands over things they post on Facebook. Where one "my boss sucks" post can make or break the rest of your tenure at that employer. One in particular led to a friend enduring years of harassment and estrangement from coworkers who had no business being in her business anyway.

Myself, I've dealt with an ex-wife blocked on Facebook who hacked our teenager's account in order to read what all I had to say about her or anything else, leading to having to create a filter there for sharing NOTHING with my kid other than the ephemeral friend connection with no social interactivity.

Circles have allowed for me to categorize and re-categorize everyone I know, or don't know, into groups I easily define as "ok to share this with" or "don't post this kinky link to" or even "hey everyone, I'm now dating so-and-so." Can't 'friend' mom on Facebook because she might disapprove of things you post? No problem here: just don't put her in your "100% Uncensored" circle--or better, make a circle of one and call it "mom" she'll never know.

This ability to pick and choose my privacy on a post-by-post basis is far more intuitive and easy-to-use than has been Facebook's (every time that site changes something major, it tends to reset my settings and I don't always catch it--now I don't feel as if I have to worry about that level of vigilance).

This has been heavy on my mind a lot since my recent quandary over whether to make my blog accessible to the public again. Doing so would mean exposing some raw personal stuff to people who I don't want exposed to it (or deleting it), but keeping it hidden keeps the most mundane movie review post, etc. blocked from all but my approved readers as well. Zero middle ground there...

So, Google+ you and I might just end up being pretty good friends.

Netflix is Putting Me in the Poor House

Yesterday I got an e-mail from Netflix telling me that on my September billing cycle the cost of my current plan (1 disc at-a-time plus unlimited streaming) would be raising from $9.99/month to $15.99/month as they are splitting the streaming and disc rentals into two separate services and this new price would reflect that. Me, I shrugged and figured I would figure out whether it is worth it to me or not later.

See, the kids alone watch an enormous amount of streaming content on Netflix. Enormous. I so very much get my money's worth on that and will likely never have to buy a kids' dvd again so long as I have streaming content available (granted, I am so tired of them watching certain kids' shows but I digress). As for myself, I've found myself less and less interested in the movies flying in via disc (I used to be on a much larger plan and so my queue shrank significantly this year). I have maybe 30 films in it right now and with the 1 at-a-time plan I see an average of 9-10 disc movies per month while I might add a total of 3 or 4.

I understand we hate changes in the status quo, I really do. And I understand that masses of people were up in arms yesterday when they received this price hike announcement. For me, I continue to shrug. Maybe I also shake my head a little. Don't we have anything more important or significant to be irate about? If I rented 9 movies a month at a rental store it would cost me at least $20. That's 125% Netflix's new price point with ZERO streaming titles included.

I think we should find something new to shake our fist at.

Well

I've been struggling with the decision as to what to do about this blog.

Having the time and inclination to write hasn't actually been a problem. I've been needing to figure out whether or not it would be best to keep this lot going or to shut it down and start somewhere new. If I stay here, do I keep it set to "invited readers only" or open it back up? I can't seem to get past the deadlock in my brain as to what I should do in this regard.

Thoughts?

Two Months

Has it really been that long? It seems like only yesterday I was composing my New Year's "word" post in my head... and yet it isn't here either.

Sorry, friends. I guess I need to write more here again and will do so soon.

Dear Santa,

I just want to start by saying that, especially given all the circumstances, I've been pretty darn good this year. Last year for Christmas, a year I had been feeling even better about, the kids and I were served a whopping serving of heartbreak and feelings of betrayal and the shattering of our family unit. In the year since then, we've endured the struggle to remain a strong and loving family, the realized fear of abduction, absolute poverty, medically insane flatmates and a growing appreciation for our inner strength and ability to come back together as a family.

This year, do you think you could work on dropping off a little happiness? I've already handled the whole presents-for-kids situation--just send the kids the ability to find happiness on the anniversary of their mom's decision to jack things up; give them the ability to be happy with the holiday again, and to be able to enjoy it with each of their parents.

I could go for some happiness too. As much as I'd like, I won't ask for meteors (that's a request I continue to reserve for The Universe) or a booty call. My brother Jeremy says I should ask you for the red limited edition Wii anniversary bundle I want so there you go.

Scary Math

Naturally, when it was announced there was going to be a television series adaptation of the comic book The Walking Dead (the only book I continued reading when diminished resources forced me to drop comics altogether) I would be makingdamnsure I would be watching it. And naturally, given my love of the parent work, I would either love the show or hate it.

So far, I love the show though it does have some problems for me. One of these problems is the large cast of extra characters who didn't exist in the original. Some of them really feel like they were just thrown in to add filling to the episodes and this is so unnecessary when the original characters could all use a good bit more of on-screen development. I want to get to know TV-Glen, Andrea and Dale a bit more and have a lot less of the T-Dogs and Dixon brothers (though hurrah for a Boondock Saint in casting one of them) who never existed in the first place. There are too many new characters waiting to be introduced down the line for the viewers to be bogged down with a cast that shouldn't exist. My only hope is that all these extra characters exist so that there can be cannon fodder for some requisite producer-mandated zombie bloodbath.

I'm also finding myself very impatient. I've lived with these characters through about seven years now and they are so far past this stage in the story that, while I love revisiting them like this, I'm very antsy for them to get to future scenes and stories I love. Especially, ESPECIALLY with Carl. This actually leads to my first serious problem.

The Carl Problem.
Even if the six episode first season ends the way the six issue first storyline of the book ends, and I really hope it does. I am more eager than anything for that to happen and it would make damn good TV for the season to end on that particular event. Even if it ends there it still leaves us with the greater Carl Problem. In 77 issues of The Walking Dead barely a year has passed. There are far too many excellent stories and subplots of Carl's that just will NOT work if Carl ages too much. As this actor ages through the seasons he isn't going to be believable as the little kid he's portraying for too long and way too many of the best Carl moments will lose their poignancy if Carl gets too old season-to-season. What worries me is how this dilemma might be addressed by my second issue with the series.

The Frank Darabont Problem.
Honestly, Darabont has done a remarkable and stunning job adapting books to the screen. Books I love now movies I love. It's a rare gift and he does have it. But the motherfucker also changes shit and when he does it often really pisses me the fuck off (I'm done channeling Debra Morgan now). The man has shown a willingness to make dramatic changes that piss me the fuck off (I lied). Look no further than my archived review of The Mist for the most glaring example of this fuckery. Knowing this is Darabont means knowing that things are going to change. Not just because of the nature of television, but because it's the nature of Darabont to add/embellish/change shit up. I have a dark feeling that character who is destined to die very soon is not in fact going to die because the drama would be "better" with this character around. This is wrong; trust the source material. It's strong enough on its own. I have a darker feeling the answer to the Carl Problem will be 1. Assign future Carl moments to new young characters (no!), 2. Assign them to Carl regardless of how much he's grown (as stated, some of these issues would hold nowhere near the poignancy if this is the case), 3. Don't write them into the show (I'm going to go rogue here and say that Carl is the heart of the BOOK and doing this would be a horrible disservice).

The Carl Problem + The Frank Darabont Problem = Scares Me.

I will say this: they've done an excellent job making Lori the bitch she really grows to be.

Strain

I think things are beginning to degenerate for Denise in her living situation with the Taylors. Not caring at all about her relationship with them degrading, but for how it may impact the way the kids are being treated.

Over the past couple weeks Denise has been asking me to watch the kids when she needs a sitter before asking them (something she's required to do by the court but has ignored as a requirement for months and months) which, due to our history and no improvement in attitude towards each other, I just didn't/don't trust is her being a more decent and respectful ex-partner. For the scantest moment I grasped at the delusion she was doing it because word got out of whatever plans I had made otherwise and she would have me take the kids in order to foil those plans. Not generally being a person who holds long to paranoia, this feeling passed and I started forming my opinion that maybe things weren't going as well with her and them as they once were.

Reports from the kids that the Taylors were being more strict with them and not letting them enjoy the same activities any more have been helping this, especially Aeia's report that they blame her and Lash for a lot of things that are actually being done by the Taylor's own boys (I know that this could be kids talking BS but I also trust my kids when pressed to tell the truth to tell me the truth, and I've done a lot of pressing them to tell the truth when topics like this come up).

Anyway, this theory ended up proving more true after talking with the girl I use as a sitter when I work on Wednesdays (Tonia). Tonia revealed to me that she was starting to be used more and more by Denise as well, and that Denise told her that Chrissy told her she wouldn't watch the kids anymore. Frankly, this pleases me just fine; I trust Tonia a billion times more than I do the Taylors with my kids. With anyone's kids, including their own. I'm just glad Rael isn't reporting getting hit by Chris anymore.

None of this surprises me though. Denise is difficult to live with even when you really like her, and our entire prior roommate situation with the Taylors in 2001 disintegrated entirely due to incompatible household styles between her and them so it has been something I'd been expecting to see. Coupled with her telling them, and the courts, that she'd be out and in a place of her own BY August and it now being months past that I'd be running out of patience and charity too. I just hope they're starting to realize just what they've signed themselves up for because two things are going to keep Denise with them indefinitely:

She is far too stubborn and insists on getting a place all to herself,which is something she can not realistically afford without drastically lowering her standards or resorting to getting roommates. Neither of which she's going to do.

She'll never get a place on her own because her credit is abysmal, her income is too low and she broke lease when she moved out of here.

I honestly wish she could provide a more stable living environment for our kids. She could flounder the rest of her life for all I care, except for my wanting the best for our kids so she needs to get her act together or start working her ass off to mend the strain she's putting on the only friendly relationship she still has.

Ass-Hat TV

OK, I'm at a loss on this one: what the fuck keeps making TV shows where basically the entire cast are total assholes, floor-mats or irredeemable pricks insanely popular?

I don't understand what is attracting so many people to these shows (and I am guilty of watching them too). First, I'm not talking about trashy reality television shows either. I don't even want to understand the mental imperative to watch a show like The Hills, Jersey Shore or anything on VH1 (remember when VH1 was the classy music channel?).

Good writing can only take us so far, and many of these shows do indeed have good writing, and good acting, but at what point do we have to say "wait a minute. This entire show is devoid of decency. I shouldn't waste my mind on this."

So, since I can't quite crack what makes me watch them, hopefully you can help me see the light here. What attracts you to fandom of ethically bereft television? What redeems Mad Men? Sons of Anarchy? Breaking Bad?

Dexterous

A good friend has repeatedly complained that because he's a "big name actor" John Lithgow's season four character in Dexter was allowed to live far too long than any logic would dictate being permissible. I will agree that as far as our logic goes, Lithgow was allowed to live too long. I'll come back to this, first I want to address a common trend in how 'guest appearances' work on tv shows.

TV shows have guest stars all the time and they almost always fill one of two functions: they are a very short-lived character (1-3 episodes TOPS, almost always just on sitcoms) added in as a gimmick or ratings stunt (see Brad Pitt on Friends, Matt Damon on 30 Rock, John Larroquette on Law & Order and Jenifer Aniston on Cougar Town), or they are a long-term guest star, almost always brought in for an entire season, almost always on hour long dramas, and almost always as the season's major antagonist (see Adam Arkin in Sons of Anarchy, John Lithgow, Jimmy Smits and Julia Stiles in Dexter, and Garret Dillahunt in Deadwood, Terminator: the Sarah Connor Chronicles, The 4400, etc.) . Sometimes they're brought in for a different purpose, but then you can expect them to die. Often these season-length guest stars outlast the amount of time logic dictates they should.

This is so much the case in Dexter that I am going to go as far as to say that defiance of logic and sensibility is precisely a major character flaw of Dexter's. Dexter, because he sees traits in others that don't exist, but he desperately wants to exist because he wants those traits for himself lets characters live much longer than he really should. Dexter lets Miguel live too long because he mistakenly believes believes Miguel represents an idealized version of himself, and so he refuses to see the dangerous psychopath barely contained in Miguel until it is well and beyond too late. Trinity is allowed to live too long because Dexter is dumb and thinks he can learn how to be a good father and be a serial killer from Trinity when he should already know that Trinity is not him and can not model for him how he should operate his own life and livelihood. Lumen is going to be allowed to live too long as well. Like Miguel she is unhinged and Dexter is ignoring it. Why? Because he sees her rape revenge as an outlet for his own need to avenge Rita, even though he has already killed her killer.

In a nut shell, Dexter is a consistent idiot when it comes to not killing the right people when their time has come.

Minding

I started seeing a therapist last week; the same one the kids have seen so there's already somewhat of an established relationship and knowledge of each other and where I'm coming from/what I'm dealing with. Even though we didn't talk about anything I haven't been open about countless times before, and nothing I'm uncomfortable talking about, it still left me feeling fairly morose the rest of the day. I hope this proves to be a productive journey. I wonder whether it will be easier or harder when/if I get around to talking about some of the harder things, like the assault, that I'm only now starting to come to terms with myself.

Thursday

Things have been equally stressful and pleasant the past week. Tv good. Kids great. Rael is doing so much better in school. Car is dying. Denise is consistent only in her defiance of every court ordered visitation stipulation she demanded in the first place. Money isn't tight; it's completely non-existent.

Actually, when things are quiet the darkness really pushes on me a lot harder than the light. I think I'm drowning.

Top 5 B Movies

Originally when I was tasked to draw up this top 5 list of my favorite B Movies (and I use the term “tasked” very loosely here because it’s a task I’m exceedingly happy to perform) I expected I’d spend the next week revisiting old favorites and foisting my 5 favorite in-the-moment (because I find that “my favorite” is a term that is for me fluid at best) B Movies on the rest of you with a little dash of explanation as to why they’re so great. All right, that is still what you’re going to get here but it’s important to note that as I spent the past week working on this project, it became apparent to me that there are almost as many differing definitions of “B Movie” as there are people. WTF OMG! Right? Seriously though, a decision had to be made: I would either differ to Mr. Coats’ editorial decision on the definition of B Movie and write this article from there or would go with my own definition and expect everyone to just follow along. Well I’m too punk rock to let The Man tell me what to write, so we’re going with the latter here.
Originally, a B Movie was a movie created for the purpose of following the primary movie in a double feature. This was way back in the 1930s and B Movies were often little more than an hour long, very low budget, very untried in the talent department flicks designed to give viewers a little more entertainment for their movie going buck (this really makes me wax nostalgic for the double feature). In later decades it graduated away from “second billing film in a double feature” and became more a low budget genre film (typically westerns, sci-fi and horror films were B Movies, as were exploitation flicks). It’s important to note as well that today a B Movie could easily have a budget dozens of times larger than a B Movie from the 70s.
Enough with the history lesson. Halloween is coming and in honor of my own personal favorite holiday, My Top 5 B Movies (of the moment, and in no particular order) are:

The Rocky Horror Picture Show. So filled with fun horror film cliches the only thing horrific about this horror show is the “corruption” of poor innocent Brad and Janet (oh pish-posh, don’t even tell me that in the days of torture porn flicks like Hostel and celebrated cannibals like Hannibal Lector any of the horror elements in this are scary) throughout the night until their inevitable release. This is Tim Curry’s finest performance and Susan Sarandon is perfect. It also holds the distinction of being the longest running film release in history as it has never been pulled from distribution and has been on limited release i various theaters for 35 years now and counting (yeah, take that, Titanic). And it’s a B Movie. Take the time, watch it again, do the Time Warp. Maybe even dress up a little.

The Night of the Living Dead (1968). This film created the zombie sub-genre of horror movies. Zombie movies existed before this film, but they were all of the variety where the zombie was a human afflicted by Voodoo and not flesh eating undead (truly, the modern zombie should be called a ghoul, but that’s another article). In creating this film, George Romero was himself trying to create an homage to the novel I Am Legend, replacing the novel’s vampires with zombies. Having a black actor play the lead role in a film with an otherwise all-white cast was absolutely unheard of in 1968 (really, it’s still pretty darn unheard of, and that is damn sad, people). I can still hear Johnny’s sing-song creepy voice intoning the classic “they’re coming to get you, Barbara”.

The Evil Dead. This movie launched the careers of brothers Sam and Ted Raimi, Rob Tapert and Bruce Campbell, and it’s rare for so many people associated with one B Movie to later find ongoing commercial success for decades to follow (sure Campbell is still likely considered a B Actor, but he’s very much one of the nation’s most beloved of the bunch) which is really pretty darn good for a movie with much of its funding coming from the creators’ parents and dentist. I’ve seen this movie a hundred times and it still doesn’t make any sense. And it’s still one of the most entertaining films I can ever sit down and see again and again.

“One, two, Freddy’s coming for you. . .” A Nightmare on Elm Street came to us in 1984 on a shoe-string budget of 1.8 million (the average budget of films in the mid 80s was reaching ten times this and more) and was the first film role for Johnny Depp. I have a deep fondness for Wes Craven’s earlier, even more B-level B Movies Last House on the Left and The Hills Have Eyes, but neither of these films resonate with me on as much of a visceral level as does Nightmare. To this day, this film (and absolutely none of its sequels) gives me shivers and recently found its home on another top 5 list of mine (scariest movies of all time).

Two movies are fighting it out really hard for this last spot. As much as I love 28 Days Later and want to put it here and as much as I hate gratuitous gore horror films, two words ultimately have the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre beating out those blasphemous fast zombies: John Larroquette.

And those two words are where I’m going to leave you now before I throw in another Blu-Ray and pop me some popcorn.

Breaking Bad

As I mentioned a few posts back I'm going through a massive infusion of old tv shows; right now I'm rotating seasons on Skins and Breaking Bad. The former is a Brit TV teen drama I've watched before and love, the latter comes recommended by my friend Micah.

I'm going to say that, so far, I'm liking Breaking Bad but I can't quite put my finger on why. See, the lead character Walt White (ah alliterative names aren't just for comic books anymore), played by Brian Cranston is not at all sympathetic to me. Which is really odd since you would think a character ravaged by lung cancer and only concerned about seeing to his family would push all the right buttons for me (and if you have to ask why, well then you don't know me and have never read this blog; read the last five years' entries and then come back).

Walt isn't an overly prideful person in the pilot and yet it seems clear that his pride seems to be his only real driving motivation. I can totally get behind him becoming a drug manufacturer in order to provide funds for his family when it seemed like his only option for leaving them flush after his passing. He makes a big deal of his own moral dilemmas in the story and is clearly a man we're supposed to believe is weighed heavily upon by every immoral decision he has to make. I'm so very fine with this.

But then enter the Bill Gates level rich college buddy who not only wants to give him a high paying job, but knowing of his cancer also arranges for 100% health care coverage to be able to afford all of those experimental and unlikely to be successful treatments he so desperately needs. The man of morality should at this moment take the job, the insurance, stop making meth and go from there. Not Walt. Walt instead turns it down, goes on producing meth and lies to his family telling them he did take the offer.

But pride is a tricky bitch you say. It is all powerful and forces his decision. But if any of the rest of his personality and motivations are true, then I call bullshit on pride. If putting aside pride lets him stop the dangerous business of meth manufacture and allows him the treatment, and time with his family, that he needs then pride is nothing. The only real answer is that his family can't be anywhere near as important to him as he, and the creators, wants us to believe.

Pride is a sin I'm very proud to lay claim upon and while I was very fortunate to have 100% health coverage for my own lung cancer, if my best college buddy had ridden in on a white horse and an open checkbook you better fucking believe I would have set everything else I was doing aside in order to suck his coffers dry and make sure my children would always, always be taken care of fuck-all to my pride.

Sons of Anarchy has a drive toward nobility in some of the characters that redeems them for us as the viewer and frees us to invest ourselves in hoping for them that everything will somehow work out. Breaking Bad lacks this because everything the one character we're supposed to follow as the drive of the show is so absolutely flawed and self-interested that he's lost his redeeming qualities. I don't root for him. His family would be better off if he dies before he gets too involved with the dangerous criminal element, regardless of how much money they are left with. The writing is good, but the characters aren't (which is why I never liked Sopranos) and I don't know if good writing will be enough to get me through the second and third season. We'll see.

Shite

On the way to pick Rael up from school today I got pulled over by a California Highway Patrol officer. He said I was pulled over because I wasn't wearing a seat belt (how he would even know that is beyond me. X-Ray vision?). When I showed him that I was, in fact, wearing my seat belt he reached into the car, loosened Tasmia's car seat's belt and cited me for that. That ticket is an $800 ticket. Yes, I know what he did was wholly illegal, but even if I fight it in court it will be his word against mine, which typically doesn't go well for the non-officer in those situations. I can't even pay my water bill on time anymore, how the fuck am I going to do this?

Rael Today (Multi-Posted)

Rael's teacher reports that his behavior issues are at their worst on Mondays and Thursdays, the days when he returns to school after visiting his mother. His behavior issues are also getting so bad that the trajectory he's on is going to see him expelled. For violence. From Kindergarten.

I don't know what to do anymore. I'm trying so hard to hold us all together after she tore us all apart, and just nothing seems to be working.

Happy Birthday

Thirteen years ago, during a one day visit from two of my oldest friends who were visiting from out of country, and already significantly past his original due date, my oldest child Lash ushered his way into this world. He arrived perfectly healthy, and his mother almost died from internal hemorrhaging such that every subsequent pregnancy was always a great concern to me (and rightly such as each subsequent pregnancy had serious difficulties). Because we had arranged gaming session for our visiting friends, all of our gaming group, the aforementioned friends, our roommate Dale and then my mother and sister were all in attendance to welcome him into the world.

I'd like to say I don't feel as if I've drastically failed Lash as a father these past thirteen years. That's what I'd like to say. It's been such a rough life for him so far and I wish so much for an easier road for him ahead.

If Wishes Were Fishes

I think I've reached the point where I'd be happy with a new job that's basically even just a lateral change so long as my personal drama doesn't precede me into it: "the new guy's that guy with the kids getting the divorce from that evil bitch. Poor guy. . ." as happened with my current one. Something a little more mentally peaceful to get me through 'til I can find something real, or until the situation changes well enough that I can get the courts to let me move with the kids.

Friday Night Lite

A side effect of my taking time off to watch the kids tomorrow is that I'll have Friday night free to do whatever it is I want, and am able, to do (after she picks them up in the late afternoon). I haven't had a Friday or Saturday night off from work in more than five months and I'm really looking forward to the relatively inexpensive possibilities.

Which means I have no idea what the heck I'm going to do tomorrow night. All my old U-Club buddies are gone, so doing Car Bombs and Power Hour might be a tad "creepy alcoholic" all by myself. Solo night at the movies means "creepy single guy". And staying home with the PS3/XBox 360 is no different than any other Friday or Saturday night, only earlier. More on this in a future post, but I haven't dated in fourteen years so I have no clue how to go about that or picking someone up.

Now that I think about it, having Friday night free is starting to look like a hysterical nightmare.

Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head

The weather is absolutely haywire lately. Yesterday was another sweltering summer day. Today is a gloomy rain-soaked torrent riddled with thunder and lightning. Thankfully, my mood does not reflect the weather of the day.

Denise was kind enough to give me SECOND right of childcare for her on Friday because the Taylors won't watch the kids for her this Friday (as we covered in last post, she's supposed to be asking me before asking them every time, not after asking them) and so I traded shifts with a coworker to get that day off so I could spend more time with the kids. I had to work today for my coworker in exchange. Denise gets Rael and Tassy on Wednesday until Thursday. I needed a sitter for Lash and Aeia from 3-6 and did as required and asked her. She turned it down. . .why? She has the other two, so why reject the others? I seriously wonder if it's a passive-aggressive response from her towards Lash and Aeia being vocally un-supportive of and angry toward her. Ah well, they had a more enjoyable time hanging out at my work for three hours anyway.

My boss and one of my co-managers are Mexican (no, NOT Mexican American) and have a very nasty habit of reverting to Spanish only when they want to talk shit about someone right in front of them (assuming the person doesn't understand them). I have absolutely no respect for these people; I don't speak anywhere near fluent Spanish but I understand well enough to know what they're saying most of the time and who they're saying it about. It's like working for high schooler ass-hats. Not working with them is one of the things I like about my usual night shifts.

Minor Annoyances. OK, actually a rant.

So we have this court order that lays out Denise's visitation schedule as well as laying out a bunch of rules we both have to abide by. It really seems that Denise thinks the rules shouldn't apply to her, though and it's irking me. Three recent examples:

The court order demands that the children be allowed to continue with all of their preexisting social activities. Denise does not think she has to abide by this and allow Lash to continue gaming, an activity he has been a regular participant of for more than five years. This is really bugging Lash.

The court order demands that every time either of us needs a babysitter for more than two hours we have to ask the other parent before seeking childcare anywhere else. In the past three weeks there have been six instances where she failed to do this (if anyone is counting, that means exactly six of the nine days she had the kids for visitation, she didn't even spend much time with them and should have asked me to watch them and did not). While I wouldn't have been able to watch them on four of those occasions, she's still ignoring this order.

And of course, both of the aforementioned orders were HER demands in the first place, so of course she doesn't think they apply to her.

This weekend the kids report she threatened them with spankings and with sitting on them for misbehavior. We aren't allowed to use corporal punishment or restraint. As these were just threats, I guess they fall more under psychological terrorism (which isn't covered by our orders)instead of actual violations but she's really pushing the envelope.

I'm writing this all here rather than blow up at her over it. It's better that I just keep a log of these things so I can use them in the inevitable return to court.

Paranormal Activity

had a couple creepy/scary moments, especially as I feel I can actually relate to a lot of Katie's anecdotes about the dark presence, paralysis, etc. but once it went down the road from scary haunting to possession, it lost me. It's no Blair Witch and would have been better served by sticking to one genre of horror from start to finish. An invisible monster killing them at the end would have done it so much better--like if it had ended on the scene with Katie being yanked from the bed and out the room with an ending of them screaming off camera and not returning.

TV Minute

Early this summer, in order to cut costs down, I cut back our cable subscription to the barest minimum required to also keep cable internet. Bye bye real channels. Bye bye DVR. I've been doing a lot of watching full seasons and series of tv shows in my tv viewing free time.

I'm really over the whole anti-hero genre of entertainment, but I still found myself really enjoying the first two seasons of Sons of Anarchy. Maybe it's partly due to the male lead trying to bring his motorcycle club back from the darkness, and fucking up every step of the way. Maybe it's Kate Sagal smashing a younger girl's face in a jealous rage. I don't really know but after feeling just lukewarm about the first couple episodes (too much Drea de Matteo) I couldn't keep away from the story.

British tv bugs me because the seasons are too short (6-8 episodes), which irks me whenever I find a show I really come to be fond of. Case in point, the entire four seasons of the excellent series Coupling equal approximately the same number of episodes in one shitty season of Two and a Half Men. In the case of dramas like Skins and Survivors, they still somehow pack in so much story that it's a lot more bearable, but the rare sitcom gem like Peep Show falls all the shorter. It's all the more painful for me when one of these shows then gets canceled. With only two seasons of Survivors, I feel let down by all the possibilities hinted at in what was essentially no more than half a season of traditional US television, where if it had been over here for two seasons there would have been four times the episodes and a lot fewer questions. And don't even get me started on US remakes of British television shows. . .

The last big show I've immersed in so far this summer has been Justified. Terrified it would just be a modern day revision of Deadwood, I had a little trepidation. I will be honest, there were episodes where I found it too easy to stop paying attention and go do a chore while it ran in the background (mostly during the front end of the season). And I really dislike most of the cast (either the characters' portrayal, or just the actor portraying them), but I do love me some Timothy Olyphant, have since Scream 2, and I'm fond of the western, which this channels a bit. End result is that I found myself liking, but not loving, the series and I'll probably give it another look come season two.

Next up, Breaking Bad. . .

Grey Matters

I can't put my finger on a why for it, but I've been in a pretty dour mood the last two days. Really, nothing bad has happened to put me there and I'm wondering if maybe I've just woken up on the cliched wrong side of the bed.

Rael's disastrous behavior yesterday could definitely have its part to play, but I don't really feel it has. With his situation I went fairly quickly into "help my kid" mode, speeding up his intake into counseling, conferring with his principal, etc. And aside from that, the kids have actually been pretty stellar the last two days.

Aeia finally got her Visa gift card for placing 3rd in last Spring's Agribee and she hasn't wanted to rush off and go spend it--this is a good thing. I'm happy to see her controlling her impulses more and thinking about what she wants to do; a year ago she would have blown it all on candy.

Lash's settlement is being dealt with well and with no more hiccups. That's all I can say about that, but it should be enough anyway.

Last week was actually pretty damn good. Maybe my psyche just needs a day or two to balance it out. Or maybe I'm naturally a pretty shitty dude. I'm not going to discount either possibility.

I miss my friends. I really have little to no adult human interaction during the week, Of course I love my children and want them with me 24/7, but I do need to find a way to share my life with some peers as well, and not just during the 2-3 days the kids are with their mother.

Rael Today

Today I got a call from Rael's principal because he stabbed another child with his pencil. He's apparently been acting out a lot these first three weeks of school. He had behavioral issues in Head Start and we were able to determine some commonalities between "good" days and "bad" (good days were when I dropped him off and reminded him of behavioral rules, bad days were when Denise dropped him off and paid no attention to such reminders). I worry that his current drop-off schedule is too chaotic for him to adjust at school properly.

We started him in professional counseling. He starts Wednesday.

Start Rant

Today's plan:
8: drop kids at school
8:15: deliver Tassy, and Denise's ridiculous log book, to Denise
9: go to bank and open up account for currently accessible portion of Lash's settlement
?:??-2: take a nap and catch up on all the sleep I've missed this month.
4: go to work.

Step four is currently off because step three has been derailed by Denise's continued refusal to be cooperative. Knowing she's needed to show up and sign a signature card for Lash's account, she is nowhere to be found and refuses to answer phone calls from me (nothing new there), the bank and even her work. So now I'm home in wait mode to hear from the bank as to whether they ever get a hold of her.

End rant.

The Abduction, part 1

Last night I had the nightmare that Denise abducted the kids again (specifically, she only abducted Rael and Tasmia in this dream, not that it makes the dream at all more pleasant). This is a fear (and in its event, a horror) I wouldn't wish upon anyone. It's also a horror I'd like to get over, but I fear that will be a long, long time coming.

Back in April of this year I confronted Denise with evidence of her using drugs after our split, and of her being under their influence while she was taking care of the kids. Under the advice of dear friends I let Denise know that I wanted her to seek drug counseling or provide a clean drug test. She, of course, grew agitated and an argument ensued (as happened every time we ever discussed something that wasn't favoring her). During the course of this argument I called her a cunt, something I'd never done in thirteen years together.

Two days later while I was at work, and with the aid of her parents and my self-defining "only friends" the Taylors, she kidnapped our children and went into hiding. At the time, we had been working toward divorce as amicably as possible (which still wasn't very amicable) and there wasn't yet a court order for custody or visitation. Because of this the police refused to do anything to help, even when faced with legal precedents and statutes that demanded it. Denise sought, and was denied, a restraining order against me. The abduction happened on a Friday afternoon, so I couldn't utilize the court for assistance until Monday (and was able, based on the evidence of her past neglects and her current abduction to get a hearing the very next day, Tuesday).

Friends stayed with me throughout the weekend, lending what support they could. All the while, the absence of the children was keenly felt. There was none of their laughter, none of their smiling faces, none of their playing games, none of their peaceful sleeping. Toys lay on the floor calling attention to the kids' absence. Nothing in life has ever hurt as much as this horrific act.

At the hearing that Tuesday, the courts returned the children to my primary care, allowing Denise to only see them from Friday afternoon until Monday morning. The children returning home at six that night was, equal to the heartache of their abduction, the happiest moment in my memory. What followed was four long, frustrating months of court battles over custody finally culminating in the same visitation schedule for the oldest two kids and an additional time allotted to her with the youngest two from Weds. afternoon until Thurs. morning (optional for Lash and Aeia).

The abduction has devastated what little relationship was left between Denise and the eldest kids. Lash, in typical teenager fashion just goes with the flow of the court's demands while he'd rather not see her. Aeia is instead very vocal about her feelings towards her mother and wants nothing to do with her (this week she even told her counselor and me that she doesn't like her mother and counseling isn't going to fix it, so she wants to end counseling because everything else in her life makes her happy). Rael's trauma from the abduction is keenest whenever his mother talks to him about her eventually getting a place of her own (she's been staying with the Taylors these past months), which he equates to her stealing him again and keeping him from me.

And me? Every weekend I send the kids off with Denise and feel the same emptiness of their absence while they're gone. Every weekend the fear returns that some insane thing will set this woman I believe to be unstable off and she'll take them again despite court orders. Every weekend I revisit the fear that Friday was the last time I'll ever see them again.

And somehow there are still some people who think I'm the bad guy because I called Denise a cunt.

Pilgrimage

Eventually I'll get around to writing about all the big events of the last eight months that played so keenly into why I've been so scarce in blog-land, but since all eight of my readers already know all of this anyway, and it would just be for my own need to brain-spew (or to share with the ransom viewer) it will wait a little bit longer until I start being more loquacious about it all. Bear with me, all the important news about my split with Denise, Lash's trial, etc. will find their way here eventually. Today though: mundanity.

Today was the first Wednesday of our court ordered timeshare giving Denise visitation with Rael and Tasmia from Wednesday until Thursday morning. It's been the first time in months where I've even had an opportunity to spend quality time with Lash and Aeia without my youngest darlings and so we three decided to take in a movie. Joined by friends Alex and Josh we took in Scott Pilgrim vs the World (second viewing for me and Josh) and it was just as fantastic the second time through.

I think it's a real shame it isn't doing better in theaters. It needs to do better. Is it not being marketed properly to video gaming boys and manga loving girls? Too bad. Quick people, see it now before it disappears. You will love it.

Well

It's been a while. I'm just checking in to say I'm not dead, and this isn't either. There's just been a necessary hiatus. That's ending now.

More to follow. Soon.

Across the Universe

(Quick note to the casual reader, while it may seem otherwise, this blog is not defunct, it's just on sabbatical, posting at the most intermittently until I can post more freely again. My closest readers understand the why for this and I ask you to trust there will be prolific posting here again)

"Sometimes love isn't enough." I've been thinking about the nature of love a lot lately and I have to say that I've come to the conclusion that this quoted statement is utter bullshit. I think the Beatles had it spot-on with All You Need is Love: there's nothing you can do that can't be done.

I think that if love is true, then nothing is insurmountable. If you love someone, you do the work (that is, love doesn't do the work for you, but it inspires you to do what needs done for love to flourish). Love isn't sitting on the couch with your nose in a book or computer, ignoring the world, and the person you claim to love, around you. It isn't saying that you love the hurt friend in need while turning away from them. This is false love. It's fleeting and not real. Love makes you work; love helps you to heal.

If love is real, other desires fall by the wayside. Maybe one of you wants to travel the world or maybe one of you wants kids when the other doesn't. If there is love, you make it work anyway, together. Together is important because love is never a solitary emotion.

Everyone, if you're finding yourself seeking an out and blaming it on how love isn't enough, stop and consider whether you ever really loved at all. Love doesn't succeed or fail, we do.

Top Ten Valentine's Day Movies for the Demented, Disturbed, and Emotionally Stunted People Share

Not my "Top" Ten but rather just ten I could think of that I like, know well enough and fit the bill.

You should not find "Titanic, "Pearl Harbor," or "The Notebook" on this list. If these are on your list, you are banned from posting as they automatically disqualify you from the above three requisite attributes.

You know the drill -- copy & paste.

While numbered, not really in any particular order.

1. Dear Wendy. This is hands down the best tragic love story I've ever seen about a group of tees and their love for the 2nd Amendment. It's pretty chilling to me.

2. Breaking the Waves. The Hell Emma Watson puts herself through in this film all in the name of love is one of the hardest things I've ever had to watch and still sits with me many years later.

3. Saved! Because I am filled with Christ love and will smack you with the Bible to prove it.

4. True Romance. In complete agreement with Adrienne, this is by far the best of all movies written by Tarantino to date. It has every hallmark one could need for a demented romance film: marrying a prostitute the morning after you meet her, Gary Oldman as a white Rastafarian drug dealing pimp, horrific violence, public sex in phone booths, Christian Slater, suitcases of blow and James Gandolfini beating women.

5. Bent. Mick Jagger as a drag performer. Clive Owen and Lothaire Bluteau as two homosexuals in the Dachau concentration camp. Painful.

6. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. If it weren't for the entire strange premise of this movie, the "finding and loving each other again" end to this movie would risk it being too sappy for this list. But I say thee nay! This is a beautiful demented love story. Joel: I can't see anything that I don't like about you. Clementine: But you will! But you will. You know, you will think of things. And I'll get bored with you and feel trapped because that's what happens with me. Joel: Okay. Clementine: ... Okay.

7. D.E.B.S. Spy comedy? Teen romance? Heroine and villainess find true love? All of the above.

8. Heathers. Christian Slater again. Murder masked as suicide in the name of love. Classic.

9. Hellraiser. So what if the lovers are the badguys and they most definitely get all they have coming to them and more. Even though they must be beaten, this entire horror is built around their love.

10. The Evil Dead. "We just cut up our girlfriend with a chainsaw. Does that sound "fine"?"

Discuss

Daybreakers in Too Many Words

I saw Daybreakers last week. Can't decide how much I really liked it. I think part of my ambivalence comes from this frustration: I am so very tired of the romantic leading guy vampire story who typically saddles himself with a young seemingly innocent girl, often pretending to be a highschool student instead of the hundreds-years old thing he is (I'm looking at you Twilight Saga, Southern Vampire Mysteries aka Trueblood and Vampire Diaries). What I really want is a nice horrific vampire story--one where the vampires are bad guys and so very very scary. 30 Days of Night's film adaptation gets points for trying and Let The Right One In was just awesome to the Nth degree on so many merits, including a bit of strange horror but otherwise I can't really seem to grasp a memory of there being a good vampire film of this sort in over a decade. Based solely on what little I'd seen of commercials on the television, I had high hopes this would finally be a good trip into horrorland. I was wrong.

I knew the movie wasn't going to be a scary one as soon as Ethan Hawke and Sam Neill's names flashed through the opening credits. Neither of them are 'that kind' of actor, though both are quite enjoyable. And I did end up ultimately finding the film enjoyable but not great, and not the scary I wanted. It was cerebral, which can be very nice. But it almost felt like it was also so busy not committing to any one train of thought that none of them ever really saw huge amounts of development, which ultimately just left me craving more.

Reality

I've grown to be extremely effing tired of a certain very-vocal very-minority having the need to share the opinion that my wife should have left me during the four years I wasn't working. Particularly as their opinion completely disregards a teensy detail we'll go ahead and call 'facts.'

Fact #1. For the first four years of our marriage Evan worked full time and went to school full time, even working graveyard shifts while going to school, while Denise remained happily unemployed as a full time student. This was followed by Evan working minimal part time while still going to school and being the primary caretaker of both his children and his foster children, while Denise finally worked full time. This brings us to the period of time we'll call 'fact #2.'

Fact #2. For the four year period of time these very-vocal very-minorities refer, Evan actually worked two, sometimes three, part-time school-year-long jobs while also going to school full time and receiving student aid & loans. During this time Denise worked a job she did not like and very vocally wanted out of it. Despite her and many other perceptions, Evan's income during these four years of "not working" was actually close to equal 40% of our annual income. It was just never given value as Evan wasn't working a 9-5 M-F job like Denise.

Fact #3. In order to accommodate Denise's 'need' to leave a job she didn't enjoy, but nonetheless a job that paid her 175% per hour what she makes now, Evan had to quit school with one semester left in his degree, which also cost him both of his campus jobs, and go back to the 'acceptable' form of work that would allow her to quit: a fast food paycheck supplemented by rent from a roommate she openly hated.

As Evan pointed out earlier, he is so effing tired of this opinion. So, if any very-vocal very-minorities should feel the urge in the future to voice this opinion, Evan is likely to be quite impolite with them in response.

Everyone else can have a nice day!

Next Year

Last year, my New Years Word was passion (and the decision to continue on with grace, which remains the case). I don't think living a life with more passion was at all a beneficial change in life for me. Being more passionate about my friendships led to caring more about them for both their benefits and their deficiencies which led to disappointment at friends who didn't share nearly the same passion and ultimately their ending. Being more passionate about my marriage led to caring more about our varied problems and a desire to work harder to fix them. Ultimately, this too was a failed decision.

For most of this month my decision had been that this years word, this years goal for personal development and growth would be forgiveness. To work at overlooking the deficiencies of others and instead forgive them and welcome back friendships discarded for caring too much. Over the past week I held to this word-decision if only to hopefully make life at home in some way manageable again.

I can't do it.

I've grown too cognizant of the fact that forgiveness isn't likely in me anymore right now. For whatever reasons, I'm not ready to just overlook the deficiencies of others or the pain others instill. If people can't own the wrongs they themselves commit, I'm not in a place to forgive their faults. I'm finding that I instead feel quite the opposite and am intent on protecting myself instead from the bile expressed by others.

I can't do forgiveness now. So if not that, what? I'm finding that perhaps a much more important word for me to live this year is healing. I think healing will be the most significant aspect of life I should pursue internally right now and recognize in some cases where that may mean not being nice, which is why forgiveness won't always be a component of healing. If I can find myself healing, and if I can help my children to heal any pains of their own, then this years word will have been a success. The best part of healing, besides getting better, is knowing that the friends and loved ones who are there with us are all a positive part of this process.

Twilit

I started this before my current hardships began. I don't know if I'll find the heart to care to finish it:

As much as I’ve decried the series for its Mormon allegory, I’m not going to focus on it in too much depth as I examine the story here (rather, I’ll refer interested parties to this article for the LDS allegorical discussion as well as to invite readers to simply Google “Twilight Mormon allegory” if they so desire): http://www.touchstonemag.com/archives/article.php?id=22-08-024-f .

The preface.
As I read through this short bit of text, I’m left wondering if anyone took the time to tell the author the difference between a preface and a prologue.

First Sight (also known as chapter one).
Here on the first page is where Bella really starts to lose me: “Neither of us was what anyone would call verbose.” Prolixity (from Latin prolixus, extended, also called verbosity and garrulousness) in language refers to speech or writing which uses an excess of words. Adjectival forms include prolix, verbose, and garrulous. Which, for the layman, means a person who is verbose talks or writes a lot. A lot. If Bella is not verbose, why do we have a 245 page (my edition) novel told in her voice? Ostentatiously, why do we have four such novels in her voice? At some point I’m going to end this exploration with a return to this statement: if she’s so not-verbose why couldn’t she just shut the fuck up then?
Two more pages in I’m convinced that at least the character of Bella has no clue what verbose means because she and her father are displaying it in spades (and by page eight I’m convinced Stephanie Meyer should have fired her copyeditor). I leave the first chapter not at all enamored of our primary antagonist. She comes off as either ignorant or a liar (see the verbose statement above), and she’s shown to be a bit of a bitch, where she can’t be bothered to retain the names of the other girls she meets, nor can she be bothered to pay attention to any of their prattling until they start talking about subjects she herself initiates, rather than any of the other subjects that instead interest them.

Chapter one also resonated heavily for me as an allusion to the newly adult LDS male going on his mission: like Bella wanting to go while simultaneously dreading the upheaval of their life, missing “home” and even the suggestion that remaining would be a hardship for the parent (as Bella suggests staying in Phoenix would be bad for mom, and an LDS child-man turning away from their mission would be a socially damaging action for their parents).

At this point I’m having trouble deciding whether I simply dislike the writing style, or if there’s nothing necessarily off-putting about the style; rather the main character is thus far just so unappealing that I lump my dislike for her into my dislike for Meyer’s prose. We’ll see how far along I can force myself through this.