Animation, Art, and Other Shiny Things
The pressure has finally gotten to me, the head can’t hold any more. I have to start writing again. Simple replies to other’s posts and the mental gymnastics that go with just aren’t enough.
I go through this every few years where I have to dump thoughts and observations out of the brain pan and into the fire. Over the last few cycles (for want of a better term) it’s been driblets and snippets of larger ideas. As a result it just wasn’t very satisfying to the critical writer that lives in my head.
I don’t know exactly how this will work this time through the forest of my ideas, thoughts, and observations, I’m not terribly good as a blogger per se. Fortunately I don’t really care alot for obtaining a ‘following’ and I think I can get past any worry over consistant posting. (IE daily, mon/wed/fri, etc)
Having recently dragged myself out of the dark ages and into Facebook and Twitter, and experiencing the overload that they present my ludditine sensibilities I’ve decided that perhaps blogging may be that missing link between the BBS/phpBB days and whatever comes next for me. Let’s see, shall we?
In the coming days I’ll be poking, prodding, rearranging, and possibly even changing the name of the blog. I just don’t know yet. The only thing for certain is that some things will get posted because I don’t have any choice. I have to write just to get it out of my head.
Anyways…. Onward into the fog…
It’s time for the monthly post. It certainly feels like it from the pressure building up in the head.
But there are so many things… A logjam between the cranium and the fingers.
For today – this moment; A View From the Deck
It’s been two weeks since Miz Liz, the older of our 2 youngsters, moved to the Rose City – Portland, Oregon. She actually left the nest last September, coincidently moving into the same apartment building I was living in when I met her mother.
Being a short bus ride away, or 10 minutes in the Caddy, was enough to assuage my wife’s worries easily. Her moving 4 hours down the motorway doesn’t contain much assuaginess for Aunt Bee however. We’ve got family in Portland, or rather Aunt Bee does, so there is a tad of assuagnicity going on, but clearly not enough. I mean, just to visit her young’un it’s 4 hours by train, or a bit less by Caddy. (Under my steerage, of course, as Aunt Bee does not deign to lower herself to operating a motor vehicle. With advanced degrees in both Pedestrianship and Passengerism as well as a Backseat Drivers License, she’s entitled. Besides, the Caddy is made for that drive)
Not conducive to a spur of the moment drop-by, one might say.
So, as she can’t stop by on a whim any more, Mohamed will go to the mountain – for a week. As I have to work, she’ll take the train down on Tuesday then I will drive down and pick her up over the following weekend. No problem, right?
Well… maybe a few small sticky wickets… Over the interim 4 days I fear I will starve before I can make the drive down, and if I don’t, I may be so addled by lack of food I could run off the road and over a cliff and die a horrible, fiery, (and definitely spectacular) death.
Aunt Bee was significantly less than impressed by this argument noting that I actually kept myself alive and somewhat fed before she met me lo those many years ago. And yes, I could probably remember how it is done, and no, I hadn’t destroyed that many brain cells in the interim nor do I have early-onset Alzheimer’s.
My further points were dealt with in much the same manner; Boredom? If, between books, television, and the internet, I got bored then I was one sorry human. Laundry? See the above argument about food, and don’t wash anything in hot. Cold in bed without her? There’s extra blankets in the closet and a hot water bottle under the bathroom sink. Starvation? We went over that, am I retarded?
Finally, in exasperation she pinned me to the chair with her most piercing ‘Stop While You Are Still Getting Some’ look. I took that opportunity to shut the hell up figuring that it might get me some.
Anyways, I guess the point is that it’s one thing to have a child living close by; within easy reach to rescue when their car breaks down or their computer lets out the magic smoke, it’s quite another for it to be a trip in and of itself just to visit.
I have a feeling that when Z spreads his wings I’ll be much less calm about it than Aunt Bee’s been.
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The Ruffled Crow 