There are days when I want to be anything but a tax accountant.  This is one of those days. 

What kind of example do I set for my kids?  Will I teach them to live a life of unhappiness?  There has to be another way, and I don’t care what it costs.  If I have to spend some of my hard earned accounting dough to make a life for myself doing something else than it must be done!  I must find a way to make money doing what fulfills me.  I must find a way to make the money doing what I love. I cannot wait any longer.  To wait is to never. Now is the time.

Sorry.  I don’t know why I say sorry, but sorry.  I’m going to write.  And then I will write some more.  I will pick up skills word by word.  I will pick up readers one by one.  Persistence is what makes the difference in this world.  That is the lesson for my children to learn.  I will publish a book.  I will sell the book.  I am not an accountant.  I AM A MAN!

Things are going through my head.  What things you ask?  Rocks.  And they hurt.  No, really, I want to start writing everyday or so again, even if it’s short, sweet, and boring.  That’s one thing.  I need to get in shape, that’s another thing.  I’m running a 5K in a few weeks (less than 3 actually), and I am totally out of shape.  Also, I’ve been depressed (cause I’m so out of shape and I haven’t been writing).  And another thing, just FYI, the bagels that they are selling at my workplace have gone downhill.  They went from selling specialty bagels that weren’t actually very good to supermarket bakery bagels that were actually ok, to what I swear has to be Lenders bagels (for those unfamiliar it’s with the white bread, just shaped like a bagel).  And the potatoes they were selling up there today, “hash browns” they called them, also suck.  I need to get a box of instant oatmeal in here (to eat something with my coffee or else my heart beats – can’t have that).  I stopped at the store on the way home from work last night cause wifey asked me to pick up Milk (is that cliché or what) and of course didn’t remember to replenish my oatmeal supply. 

OK, I’m throwing out the potatoes (you know they have to be bad if I don’t just eat them anyway).

How’s this for day one back on the job?

It pains me to post today that the very cute, beautiful loving dog that I wrote about this morning, fell very ill and died tonight.  It is clear to me now that she was already a dog I could like a lot.  

We had to take her to the vet the second day we had her.  They gave her a shot and some medicine and she was markedly improved for a day and a half, long enough for us to get to know her a little. She was smart, responded to a few commands already.  Seemed, for the most part to be house trained, and doted on our kids, especially our oldest (her "mother"), who she had begun to look for whenever she wasn't around.  She was a quiet dog, that could run fast, but would stop and sit at look at cars whenever one went by.  And then today she threw up a lot and got very lethargic.  I took her to the vet with a fever and was told she had pnemonia and stomach upset and they hydrated her and gave her antibiotics and something for her nausea and we were told to bring her back in the morning, but when we checked on her a couple of hours later, she was gone.  

It was quiet a cry-fest in our house this evening.

“grmmm.”

“did you say something?”

“I’m just growling at her.”

Ok, I’ve never had a dog before this, but we have three children, have decided that that’s enough and I do not particularly want another child that keeps me up, misbehaves, talks back (or bites) and doesn’t grow up.  We often can’t control our kids the way we want to, so I’m concerned about the dog.

“I think you like the dog,” my wife said to me.

“Well, I want her to be the kind of dog I can like.”

Can you imagine if we said that about our children?  As if we would admit, depending, that we might not like them?  But with the dog it’s true; I want her to be the kind of dog I can like.  Well behaved and obedient (and happy too, I guess).  So I’m reading about training.

I understand from my reading that we shouldn’t be too stern, that we train with praise, and I'm thinking that could work with kids too(I’m just waiting for our third child, Wheel, to be good so I can praise him - JUST KIDDING).  What I don’t understand, is how to properly “correct” bad behavior.  I’ve been trying to just do nothing, or a little low grunt that simulates a growl.  But when the pup is biting, even if its playful, do we say, “NO!”  Do we yell at the dog?  If not, then what? (I’ve read that “no” is so overused and unspecific - often used playfully - that it is not a good command - although it looked like it worked a couple of times).

I’m just not sure how to do the correcting - with dogs or kids. 

Which recently I decided I wasn’t going to do anymore.  I thought I would do something else, play the drums, travel.  The problem is I like to think, and writing facilitates thinking. 

Wondering whether I was ever any good, I traveled back in time to blogs that I had written on or around the anniversary of today, and actually liked what I saw.  And that made me think, “what happened, cause I really suck now.” 

I do have some stories and some poetry and essays that have been written since publishing my last book probably none of you ever heard of it, (except you, deevaa – where’s the bonus that was supposed to come with my 10,000th sale, you ask?  We’re almost there, just about 9,550 more).  And these could be in another book. 

And thanks to NickyJett I know about Lulu where I can self-publish for free and not only that, submit said book, if originally based on a blog, which it would be, for the Blooker award, judged by, among others, Arianna Huffington, my all time favorite person that I used to hate, and win $10,000.

Which all sounds pretty good.  When can I start working on that?

They say that money doesn’t make you happy, but as far as I am concerned (everyone’s different), more than anything else, it seems, shortage of money makes me unhappy.  Effectively, that works out to be the same as making me happy.  Another way to look at it is that money is the variable upon which my happiness turns.  It wouldn’t make me happy absent other factors, but in that I have a lot to be happy about, family, freedom (for the moment) friends, oxygen and civilization (for the moment), lack of money is the only thing keeping me unhappy.  I’m speaking really, not of how much money I make, but how much I have left after I have satisfied the obligations established for myself, my monthly, yearly and one-time commitments.  Some people, maybe just one person, (the one that knows me best) thinks “unhappy” is just the way I am.  But she’s never seen me without money stress, except maybe when she first met me, back when I had no debt, lived in a small studio apartment at the tip of Manhattan for $500 a month, had no TV, didn’t eat out and was one of the few people I worked with that felt like he made enough. 

Ironically, I was starting to feel happy before we decided to move; finally after many years we were out of debt, had a low mortgage and were bringing in more than we spent.  If we hadn’t moved to this great “old” house, in this great neighborhood near great neighbors and great restaurants and culture, full of people with progressive politics, and good schools and a great commute, if we hadn’t moved here, to a neighborhood and a house that I love, I honestly believe I would feel happy.  That’s ironic.  Because it’s not what I want, I don’t wish we hadn’t moved. “There” never felt like where I belonged, not where in my days of youth I imagined myself happy.  I like it where I am now much better and I would not choose to undo it.  But I think I would feel happy right now, if I was there, because for the first time in many many years, I would have extra cash above and beyond what I needed.  There would be a lot that I didn’t have, but I would be happy with what I had, because of the extra cash.  Extra cash to take a day off if I needed it.  Extra cash to feel like I was working for things I wanted, rather than just to stay ahead of bills.  If I saw something I wished we had, as long as it wasn’t exorbitantly expensive, I could just get it instead of wanting it for years and years.  We could travel, for pleasure and to see family more.  I could be generous to people I knew and didn’t know who needed it.  I could laugh when the air conditioner broke and just get it fixed.  I could feel prepared for contingencies, knowing that if we needed to we could survive on a lot less.  I could pay my mortgage off quicker, if all went well, and when that was done, really be happy.

I hope that someday, hopefully not too far in the future, I could get there in the new house.  Then maybe I really can have it all.  I’d like to get there faster rather than later, but at least if I have a plan to get there (plans are great panaceas) I can see it, and believe in it, visualize it and maybe even imagine that I was already there.

President Bush, responding to allegations that his administration was wholly incompetent in its handling of Katrina. 

“I think we were better than wholly incompetent.”

Why is education important?  Why is it important to be smart?  Why should everyone struggle to be as smart as they can be? 

I think it’s because the downfall of civilization will come at the hands of a stupid people.  Less and less am I blaming Bush for what he has done (or not done).  Not that he shouldn’t be accountable, but it is only because “the people” allow it, that he can do (or not do) anything (or something).  When the people are gullible enough to allow it, someone will always take advantage of them. 

Which brings up an interesting question:  Is gullible the same as stupid or is it a symptom of stupidity?  Maybe it is a type that can manifest even in otherwise brilliant people.  Certainly we can’t any of us know everything.  Thinking you know what you do not or believing something regardless of facts might be in my definition.  I don't think we have to be like that.  We can, most of us, learn to think, and to reason, even when we don’t (yet) know all the facts.  We can be open to new information, and we can approach life with an ear to listen, “certainty” on hold, a healthy skepticism and always a commitment to the difficult task of finding the best answer.  That wouldn’t be stupid.

I’m just really sad for my country.  I can’t believe people are still saying that the Dixie Chicks shouldn’t have criticized the president while in another country, that “he’s our president” (someone just said this to me the other day).  I’m sad for what my country has become, how he turned a world full of support and sympathy from such unlikely sources as Russia and IRAN even, after 9/11, into most of the world hating us, except for the Hispanics that want to pledge allegiance in Spanish, to which our own people respond with anger because they haven’t yet learned English.  Doesn’t anybody know how to make friends?

I’m sad that the man who is our face to the rest of the world, is compared to Hitler and the Devil (recently at the UN), but I’m more sad that our nation under Bush invites those analogies.  I’m sad that we torture, and that we do it in other countries to avoid the legal limitations in our own country.  I’m sad that we went to war without international support.  I’m sad that we don’t support democracy, that even at home our elections aren’t credible.  I’m sad that innocent people, yes innocent people, suffer at my country’s hands.  And I’m sad that not enough of my people care.

How can people criticize the president?  How can they not?  If there’s anything that can be done that can help to change this terrible path we are on, the time to speak up is always now. (As Charlie Parker wrote, “Now’s the Time” – and as Martin Luther King, Jr said, “later invariably means never”).  And I’m not ashamed to say that I want to let the reasonable people out there in other countries know that I agree with them.  We are not all like him.  And I’m sorry.  I’m sorry I haven’t done more to change it.

You can’t read everything.  In the old days, maybe, maybe you could read everything you had, or could afford; books weren’t available like they are today, so if you wanted to read you might read everything you could get your hands on and when you ran out you would read War and Peace again (or something) by candlelight over the long cold winter that you suffered through without even a TV.  But now, there is way too much to read “everything” by any measure and the best writer is not going to be the best reader, not the one who wins the contest for who reads the most.

My advice, what I believe works best for me, and maybe you too, is to pick the stories that you like best and read them again and again.  If you can’t fathom reading something twice, then you didn’t like it enough.  If you can’t stand the thought of reading anything again and again, then you shouldnt' be a writer.  Musicians listen to the same music over and over.  They practice the same things over and over, and if that would bore you too much to suffer through it, then you don’t have enough interest to be a musician either.

I’m not saying everyone should read things more than once, just writers.

So if you want to write, read what you like until you know it like you would know yourself, make it you, quote it, come to tears or laughter, just to think about it.  Know even one thing that well, and you will understand the writer and take an importent step towards seeing youself as one.

Some stories I enjoy enough to read again and again:

1)      Cathedral by Raymond Carver

2)      Neighbor Rosicky by Willa Cather

3)      The Old Man and The Sea by Hemmingway

4)      Prometheus Bound by Aeschylus

One of the “casualties” of moving may be that my oldest daughter (ReyRey – for those old readers who remember her) quits swimming.  We originally put her on a swim team so that she could learn to handle herself in the water, and that she has done.  But this past year she swam year round and improved a lot, enough that she surpassed many of the “summer” swimmers and made the county finals, something she never did before.  Now that we’ve moved, and she’d be on a new team without her old friends, she doesn’t have the interest in keeping it up.  I’ve got a number of reasons I wish she would. 

1)      Her brother and sister want to, and it’s easier if they’re all in the same sport.

2)      It is a good healthy habit that can keep you in great shape for your whole life, and contributes to her ability to adapt to other activities involving coordination.

3)      It inspires her sister and brother to do it, which is good for the above reason as well.

4)      But probably the biggest thing for me, is that I was always so proud when I watched her swim.  I miss watching her swim, miss that pride in how she improves and how good she seems, to me in particular (non stroke swimmer that I am).

But it is a big time commitment – 3 practices a week or more, on school nights and weekend meets.  The worst thing I could probably do is to guilt her into it (like by telling her how proud it makes me, for example).  That kind of commitment requires an interest, and what I really want her to be is happy, and to find the thing that brings her to life.  That is all I want for any of my kids.  Pride comes, and it comes in many forms and for many things.  I AM proud of her for so much else she is and does, and will be for whatever else she chooses to do. 

So, I guess I can give her the choice.

.