Seal up the book until the time of the end

I'm trying to convince Mr M that he needs to learn how to read, but he's not buying any of it.

Me: Why don't you want to learn how to read?

Mr M: It's boring. You just sit there and don't do anything.

Me: But it doesn't have to be boring. You just have to read about things you like.

Mr M: I don't like anything.

Me: You like monsters don't you?

Mr M: Yeah.

Me: Well, why don't you try to read books about monsters?

Mr M: Because, you can't ever tell if they have monsters in them or not.


Another time:

Mr M: I like Spiderman.

Me: I know you do. You know, there are books about Spiderman. Would you like to read something like that?

Mr M: No. I just like to look at pictures.



Today I was driving with my kids, and I started trying to convince him that he was very close to being able to read. He can sound out all the letters, he just struggles trying to put them all together. Then Togers decided to jump into the conversation.

Togers: The word is antiestablishmentarianism. Get it right next time!

Maybe I've found the root of the problem.

Living on the memory of a dream I once had

I recently read the book Love Is A Mix Tape: Life And Loss, One Song At A Time by Rob Sheffield (it was recommended to me by Steph). It was a fantastic book, and is a must read for anyone for whom music plays a big role in their life. It's a tale of his life experiences as Alternative music pushed into the mainstream in the early '90s, how music brought he and his wife together, and how it helped him get through the worst part of his life. All things to which I can relate to some degree even if the situations weren't exactly the same.

Here are a few quotes from the text that really appealed to me:

I realize it's frowned upon to choose a mate based on something superficial like the music they love. But superficiality has been good to me.

The songs* were all either fast or sad, because all songs should be either fast or sad. Some of the fast ones were sad, too.

Just more of that endless, useless knowledge you absorb when you're in a relationship, with no meaning or relevance outside of that relationship. When the relationship's gone, you're stuck knowing all this garbage.

I suddenly realized how much being a husband was all about fear: Fear of not being able to keep somebody safe, of not being able to protect somebody from all the bad stuff you want to protect them from. Knowing they have more tears in them than you will be able to keep them from crying.

Married people fight over some dumb shit when they think there aren't any widowers eavesdropping. And they never think there are widowers eavesdropping.

Many of you know that I like to put mixes together, usually around some sort of theme, but it's been a while since I made my last one. As soon as I put the book down, I put the finishing touches on a mix that I've been thinking about for almost a year. If you're interested, you can download it for free here. (If you download it, let me know what you think.)

-------------------------UPDATE-------------------------
Apparently there was something wrong with the .zip file, but I think I've fixed that now. If you tried and weren't able to extract the files, you may want to try it again.
-------------------------END UPDATE-------------------------




*Here he was speaking of seeing Pavement play for the first time.

Don't try to tell me that power can't corrupt a person, you haven't had enough to know what it's like

I just pre-ordered a copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Like many people, I'm excited to see how it all ends. I've been thinking about it, and here are a few surprises that, if included in the story, will result in fans feeling cheated (and would possibly cause rioting in the streets, or at the very least, book burnings).

• Harry Potter awakens from a daydream and is pummeled mercilessly by schoolyard bullies for having imaginary friends and playing wizard every day during recess.
• Albus Dumbledore returns from the dead, only to be struck by lightening and killed instantly before he can triumphantly save the day.
• Police raid Gryffindor house and find the biggest meth lab in Britain. Neville Longbottom, the kingpin, gets sentenced to life in Azkaban.
• Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter fly to Massachussetts and get married. They honeymoon on Brokeback Mountain.
• Ron Weasley hands Harry over to the Death Eaters for thirty pieces of silver.
• Severus Snape reveals that he had a torrid love affair with Harry's mom. DNA testing proves that he is Harry's father.
• Harry defeats Voldemort, gets drunk with power, and becomes a tyrannical despot.
• Hermione Granger is introduced to heroin (giving new definition to the term mudblood), contracts HIV from sharing a needle, but dies from an overdose before developing AIDS.
• Harry, Ron and Hermione participate in a menage a trois. The resulting awkwardness causes them to never speak to each other again.
• Voldemort wins.

And the woman who says she'll have me I long for her embrace

I'm currently reading a book titled Special Topics in Calamity Physics (go here for a review of it, it's not exactly what you'd think by reading the title). I'm only about halfway through, but I've enjoyed reading it and would recommend it even without knowing the ending*.

The reason I'm bringing this up is that I read a passage this morning that perfectly sums up my take on relationships.

"I'd never contemplated relationships very much (Dad said they were preposterous if I was under twenty-one and when I was over twenty-one Dad considered it Fine Points, Minutiae, a question of transportation or ATM location in a new town; "We'll figure it out when we get there," he said with a wave of his hand) and yet, in that moment, when I moved past Milton and Joalie, both of them smiling confidently in spite of the fact at distances greater than fifteen feet they looked like a gorilla walking a teacup Yorkie, I actually felt awed by the remote possibilities of the person you liked ever liking you back a corresponding amount. And this mathematical conundrum started its long division in my head at breakneck speed, so by the time I sat down in the front row of AP Calculus and Ms. Thermopolis at the dry-erase board was trying to wrestle to the ground a robust function from our homework, I was left with a disturbing number.

"I suppose it was why, after years of playing the odds, some people cashed in their measly chips for their Zach Soderberg, the kid who was like a cafeteria, so rectangular and brightly lit there wasn't a millimeter of exciting murk or thrilling secret (not even under the plastic chairs or behind the vending machines). The only saturnine miasma to be found in him was maybe a bit of mold on the orange Jell-O. The boy was all creamed spinach and stale hot dog.

"You couldn't make a grisly shadow on his wall if you tried."

I cashed in my measly chips once before (albeit without the years of playing the odds, and it was for someone with too much "exciting murk" and too many "thrilling secrets"). It didn't work out all that well. While I don't wish to repeat that experience, I don't want to end up with a Stepford Wife either (well, except for the impossibly beautiful part). The odds are most definitely not in my favor.




* If you want to check it out from the library on campus you may run into some confusion as I accidentally forgot to check the book out before leaving the building. Obviously, it won't be on the shelf even though the library catalogue will say it should be. I know the right thing to do would be to take it back and check it out properly, but I'm far too lazy for that, so I'll just return it when I've finished reading.