Day 13 -- Post-ish

If you have ever lived with a three-year-old child, then you know that they spend most of the day agonizing about getting things perfect.  They'll melt down because Rapunzel's crown doesn't sit on top of her head at just the right angle, or the Sesame Street episode doesn't feature enough Ernie and Bert.  I once had thirty minute conversation with my Princess assuring her that it's OK that she spilled water on her dress, because water dries and no one should strip off their clothes in the middle of Bob Evans. 

With my child, the perfection police started on her third birthday and just progressed as she ages.  Everything must be to the standards of our little angel, and I mean everything.  She's has given us instructions about what she will and will not wear, what we should and should not wear,  and what shows we'll  watch and in what order.  She even dictates how the Queen and I talk to her, many times giving us the words to say, and then prompting us with our lines if we deviate off script.  Sometimes when she wakes up in a mood, its like a little Napoleon inspecting her troops, and if one hair falls out of place, it's the stockades.

All parents I meet tell me that this is just a phase all kids go through.  They tell me that all I should do is to gently remind them that life is messy, set realistic consequences when she goes too far, and try not to throw her through a plate glass window.  Try to set good examples and find models that exemplify the behaviors that make "good choices." They also say that having a glass of wine or a shot of bourbon helps ease the nerves. 

And while I now think most parents are alcoholics, our family does heed their advice most of the time.  Soft tones, a ton of repeating ourselves and plenty of books help when nothing goes right.  If we can have mistakes without the world ending, and if we can show that you don't have to be perfect, then just perhaps our three-year-old rule set doesn't explode into full-fledged OCD syndrome.  I found that the biggest help for me is in the book department.  When I'm reading to her, she doesn't notice the vein throbbing in my forehead.

My favorite book by far is Ish by Peter H. Reynolds.  Ish tells the story of some dude named Ramon who can't draw a vase.  After days of trying he gets all pissed off until his sister lets him know that although his drawings don't look exactly like the vase, they look vase-ish.  Ramon gets all jazzed up about thinking "ishly" and goes all hippy-trippy.  He draws what he wants to without worrying what it looks like.  He writes some beat poems.  The he gets so ze-nish that he doesn't do anything.  It really is a great book that teaches about creativity and not stressing about crap that doesn't matter.  Plus, it has a kid drawing on the potty.

I even have taken it to heart.  I just finished baking a mess of a meal, and that's fine because it looks lasagna-ish.  My jokes work, especially the one with an interrupting cow, because they are funny-ish.  And when I look into the mirror, I happy that I seem manly-ish.  Thinking ishly has led to a whole new acceptance for my mediocrity.  Even this rambling piece of writing feels fine because at least it's post-ish.

I urge all of you to think ishly, too.  Can't go to work today because you're sick-ish.  You're not really following around your ex girlfriend; you're just stalker-ish.  Start flailing around in the middle of the park just because you feel dance-ish.  Ishing can free your mind, sooth your soul, and perhaps get you either fired or arrested.  But who cares!  Everything is legal-ish.

I need to wrap this up, the Princess calls and her pillow is not Tiana side up.  At least when I get back I can have another shot of that bourbon.  Especially since I'm just drunk-ish.

Day 12 -- Kickstart My Heart

Back in the pre-internet dark ages, like in 1987, Big Business ruled everything.  Books came from major publishers, movies from a film studio and music from record labels.  Basically if some suit didn't like what an artist was peddling, you weren't ever going to see it.  Sure, different corporations had different tastes, but they still held the keys to commercial success.  Without their approval, your work never even existed.

Now through fiber optic cables anyone can publish through major distribution channels like Amazon or Lulu.com.  Independent movies and web shows can arise seamlessly from nowhere and be distributed via direct download.  Any free spirit with a guitar can hawk their breakup song on iTunes.  Even housewives with a sewing machine can head over to Etsy.com and make a mint by crafting homemade Halloween costumes.  As long as you can produce it, someone can buy it.

However, for these methods to work, you have to have something tangible.  Why can't people just pay money for the sheer possibility of something tangible?  If there could just be a slight cash advance, say $25,000, then surely whatever someone promises to make will get made...eventually...maybe...someday.  If I fail then you won't get your money back, but I will feel sorry for cashing that check.

That's where Kickstarter.com comes in.  For a nominal fee you can "invest" in someone's dream and hope he isn't a complete screw-up.  Some work out, like the Veronica Mars movie.  Some may live in some sort of development Hell.  It may be a gamble, but what else would you do with your hard earn cash?  Probably buy groceries like a schmuck.

To sweeten the deal, investments can be made at a variety of perk levels.  Pledge $5 for something cool.  Pledge $100 and get something awesome.  Pledge $10,000 and get something so great that your brain will liquify.  For instance, pledge $5 for the "Newest Hottest Spike Lee Joint" kickstarter and you get a vintage Spike's Joint bumper sticker autographed by Spike Lee.  But for $10,000 you get, and I quote:

"This Award Is For All Playa-Playas. For 10 Grand I'm Taking You to Dinner, Then You Will Have The Honor And Privilege To Sit Next To Me (IN MY WIFE'S TONYA'S SEAT) COURTSIDE - FRONT ROW IN THE BEST SEAT IN THE HOUSE AT THE WORLD'S MOST FAMOUS ARENA - MADISON SQUARE GARDEN TO SEE OUR BELOVED NEW YORK KNICKERBOCKERS, ORANGE AND BLUE SKIES. IF YOU DON'T KNOW THIS IS ONE OF THE TRUE GREAT SPORTING EVENTS TODAY. YOU WILL REMEMBER THIS EXPERIENCE AS LONG AS YOU LIVE. THIS IS A VERY LIMITED ITEM. YOU SLOW - YOU BLOW. THIS IS BIG, BIG TIME. PS. KNICKS WILL BE GREAT THIS COMING NEW SEASON."

Unfortunately, I have this thing called a mortgage and the Queen has this rule against cardboard boxes as living establishments.  (And it was all in caps, too!)

I'm also considering putting in a Kickstarter for Losing the Internets.  I think a little cash infusion and this sucker could actually become readable.  For enticement, here's my pledge levels:

• $5: I will not come to your house and punch you in the nose.

• $10: I will Tweet you a "Thanks."  This Tweet will happen at 2:06 AM eastern standard time.

• $50: If we walk past each other in the street, I will give you a head nod as we pass.  Please have proof of pledge stapled to your person as we pass or head nod will not be guaranteed.

• $100: You get an envelope with whatever is in my couch cushions.  I haven't cleaned under there in like a year, so it could be some pretty cool stuff.  And I'm sure there are some half-eaten Doritoes.  With my spit!

• $250: I will tattoo your name on our dog.  Everywhere our Jack Russell goes, people will see your name on a shaven patch where his cute little black spot used to be.

• $500: I'll personally mail you a box of Van's gluten free frozen waffles from my very own freezer.  NOTE: Waffles not guaranteed to be frozen by time of receipt.

• $1,000: I'll name our first child after your favorite school teacher.  The Princess already has a name, but she's young and should adjust nicely.  

• $5,000: You will get a vial of my DNA for your personal cloning needs.

• $10,000: For all Player-Players.  You get the pleasure of me, living with you, for an entire year.  You also get the honor of feeding me--sometimes baby style--the finest selection of Maine lobster ON YOUR OWN PLATES!  Don't worry, to save on the water bill, I won't even shower.  You will remember this experience as long as you pay your therapy bills!  YOU DO NOT WANT TO MISS THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'll let you know when this Kickstarter launches.  I haven't really decided what the end goal should be, because how can you put a price on perfection?

Day 11 -- A Tale of Inspirational Woe

Yesterday I broke out the heartfelt post that described my more sentimental side.  I think those types of cathartic outbursts have some importance to developing a full picture of my character.  Without some sappiness to add a "human" element, I could come off as some d-bag who has to tear down everything society holds dear.  Someone who roots for Darth Vader to finally end those rebellious scallywags and their hippy ways.

In the past I have been accused of debasing sunshine, puppies, rainbows, caring, pants, wonderfulness, Tony Danza, and everything else that spreads warmth and goodness.  Just because I tend to see the whole picture, and not just the tiny sliver of sunshine, people mistake me for a Danny Downer.  But rainbows cannot exist without a downpour.  Puppies do crap on the rug.  Pants can chafe in all the wrong places.  To me it's not a glass half full or glass half empty argument.  The glass is too damn big.

Take the inspirational quote.  Some see these tid-bits of encouragement that can change a lifetime of disappointment.  I was going to leap off this bridge, but an angel showed me a poster with a kitty hanging from a tree.  Hang in there little furball.  My, that's a metaphor for life.  I can finish that open heart surgery!

I see the whole picture -- the exception, if you will.  What jerk photographed a cat hanging by it's claws in a tree?  I know you may die little fella, but Hallmarks around the country need this.  And how is just hanging in there inspirational?  It should read "Lift yourself up or you're gonna die."  Or "Trees are dangerous." Or "Well, today sucks."

Don't see what I mean?  Here are some random thoughts after seeing some of the Internets best inspirational quotes:

Not according to my third girlfriend.  You ever give a hug and have the person just stand there like an uncomfortable, stiff board?  That hug was like a pointy stick.  Can't get that moment back.

Except when you fart. Or eat at Subway.  That stuff is is full of preservatives.  They say Eat Fresh, but it's a lie.  I guess the moment halfway through a Subway sandwich when you decide to never eat at Subway again could indeed be called a fresh moment.  And, they spelled beginning wrong.

Why chase a dream at all?  How about you bait a humane raccoon trap with tasty treats and let it come to you.  Then you can skin it, grill it and serve your dream with a side of garlic fries.  Or better yet, sneak up on the dream ninja style and capture it when its least expecting you.

This looks like something a serial killer would tape to a mirror.  In fact this quote scares the crap out of me.  How did Google ever think this was inspirational?  Thanks Kafka.  I have one for you: "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

Except for professional Limbo dancers. When major league pitchers miss high it's a home run.  If you guys miss high when aiming for the toilet, their wives get mad.  I guess I should give Michelangelo credit, though.  He did say "most."

Why does this guy hate babies?  And possibly hockey players.

See!  My mind rockets to these conclusions every time I see something like this on Facebook or wherever.  I can't turn it off.  Will I ever see anything that I can just take verbatim without finding the exceptions?

Yep!