patchwolf

M and D were watching Disney/Pixar's "Up" while eating dinner when ariall and heard M call out. "Mummy!!!"

We both raced in, to find M sitting up on the back of his booster seat.

D: "Look, Mummy, at the fire..."

A: "I know, I see!"

M: "Oh my god..."

This morning, while I had my sleep-in (I get Saturdays, E gets Sundays), E interviewed our three year old, D.

1. What is something Mummy/Daddy always says to you?
   (Mummy) "Let's go to the pet shop to buy some fish?"
   (Daddy) "D, can you and pick up the toys, because it's almost bath time."
   
   This is fair enough. I get home most days just before bath time, and I'm the only who gives him his bath most of the time. Last night the toys looked like two tornadoes had run through them, but most of the time the boys have gotten home only just before me, so there's not that much to pick up.
   
   
2. What makes Mummy/Daddy happy?
   (Mummy) "Hugs & kisses."
   (Daddy) "Tickling me."
   
   
3. What makes Mummy/Daddy sad?
   (Mummy) "Hurting."
   (Daddy) "Not giving him hugs."
   
   
4. What does Mummy/Daddy make you laugh?
   (Mummy) "Tickles."
   (Daddy) "Tickling."
   
   
5. What was Mummy/Daddy like as a child?
   (Both) "I don't know."
   
   
6. How old is Mummy/Daddy?
   (Mummy) "15."
   (Daddy) "I don't know."
   
   Not sure if my wife was happy to hear that one or not...
   
   
7. How tall is Mummy/Daddy?
   (Mummy) "This tall." (He stood up.)
   (Daddy) "This big." (Standing tall is what E wrote, but when D says he's standing tall, he's usually on tip-toes.)
   
   
8. What is Mummy/Daddy's favourite thing to do?
   (Mummy) "Washing clothes."
   (Daddy) "Play with blocks."
   
   
9. If Mummy/Daddy becomes famous, what will it be for?
   
   D didn't really understand this question, so she didn't push it.
   
   
10. What is Mummy/Daddy really good at?
    (Mummy) "Hanging the clothes outside."
    (Daddy) "Sleeping."



11. What does Mummy/Daddy do when you're not here?
    (Mummy) "Come find me."
    (Daddy) "I don't know."

Because I see too few of these sorts of services offered or in the public eye in Australia:

MensLine is a dedicated service for men with relationship and family concerns.

When you feel like it's all getting too much, help is as close as the phone.

• All men, all relationships


• Counselling, information and referral


• Staffed by trained professionals


• Confidential


• Anonymous


• Australia-wide


• 24/7


• Cost of a local call (excl.mobiles)

I've often lamented the lack of visible men's support services, especially compared with abundance of women's support services. I'm glad I found this one.

In a slightly related depressing note, MISC.com.au was the first link that popped up on a google search for "men's support australia". From the first paragraph on that page:

The Men's Information and Support Centre (MISC), formerly known as the Men's Contact and Resource Centre (MCRC), assisted the South Australian community between 1982 and October 2006. Due to a decision by the State Labor Government to stop its funding, the Centre has now closed. This website is the only service that MISC is currently able to provide. Please ignore MISC's services listed on this website - they are no longer current. The other third party services listed are still in operation. MISC's former Executive Director, Mr Rodney Stanton, can be contacted on 0405 772 279.

I'll leave you to draw conclusions about government funding on this one...

Start: Sydney, Australia
Finish: Atlanta, Georgia

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=d&source=s_d&saddr=Sydney,+NSW,+Australia&daddr=Atlanta,+Georgia,+USA&geocode=&hl=en&mra=ls&sll=7.290235,-157.039155&sspn=132.112007,316.40625&ie=UTF8&ll=7.362467,-158.203125&spn=132.112007,316.40625&t=h&z=2&layer=c&pw=2

Note the following steps:

Directions to Atlanta, GA
25,848 km – about 56 days 2 hours

1. Head north on George St toward Angel Pl, go 0.4 km
   
   total 0.4 km


52. Turn right at Myilly Tce, go 0.4 km
    
    About 1 min, total 3,917 km


53. Kayak across the Pacific Ocean, go 5,404 km Entering Japan
    
    About 17 days 8 hours, total 9,321 km


54. Continue straight, go 0.9 km
    
    About 5 mins, total 9,321 km


113. Turn left, go 0.4 km
     
     About 5 mins, total 10,759 km


114. Kayak across the Pacific Ocean, go 6,243 km Entering United States (Hawaii)
     
     About 20 days 0 hours, total 17,001 km


115. Turn right at Kalakaua Ave, go 0.5 km
     
     About 2 mins, total 17,002 km


128. Turn right at Turtle Bay Hilton, go 0.2 km
     
     total 17,075 km


129. Kayak across the Pacific Ocean, go 4,436 km Entering Washington
     
     About 14 days 5 hours, total 21,511 km


130. Sharp right at N Northlake Way, go 1.9 km
     
     About 3 mins, total 21,513 km


147. Turn right at Edgewood Ave SE, go 0.5 km
     
     About 1 min, total 25,848 km
     
     Atlanta, GA‎

No earth-shattering revelations tonight, just a father's pride.

I have two sons, D (who is 3 ½ ), and M (who is 1 ½). D has always been an early talker, and now Michael is showing signs of being the same. For all that he's a carbon copy of me in appearance (down to the same birthmarks), D has always been Mummy's boy. M, on the other hand, bears no strong resemblance to me, but he's a lot closer to me emotionally. I'm not sure how much of that is because he can't claim his mum's attention as much when he has to compete with his brother, and how much of it is a natural inclination, but I don't care. He's Daddy's boy and I'm not going to look that gift horse in the mouth. Usually dads have to wait a lot longer to be looked up to by their sons (or so I hear).

Back to M. For the first year of his life, he rarely said the word "Mummy." It's not that he couldn't or didn't know how, he just simply refused to say it. He took to "Daddy" right away. I used to get a little smile when E would try to get him to say "Mummy" and he'd just ignore her. Then she'd prompt him to say "Daddy" and he'd say it back and then look at me. It was one of those cute things that made us smile at him and call him a cheeky bugger. We knew he'd come around eventually. And for the record, he has.

But last night, as we were putting the boys to bed, Daddy scored another one. :) I had gone outside for some reason (probably to chuck something in the rubbish bin). Apparently, that's when M decided to construct his first sentence. He walked around his room, then looked up at his mum and asked "Where Daddy?"

That's my boy!

Very quick update: We went out this morning, a bunch of my work mates and I, and shot the hell out of each other with paintballs fired at high velocity.

I didn't come out of it too bad, and I've counted least 20 welts on me. That was helped by the fact that I had the best frakking gun money could hire, which gave me an extra 10 metres of range over most of the other players. I mitigated this by volunteering to wear the bright orange flouro vest which designated me as a general. Turns out the generals could only be killed with a direct hit below the knees. Once my team (aka my guards) all died, I did a runner for the opposite end of the field -- figuring (a) a moving target is harder to hit, and (b) it's even harder still to hit a moving target below the knees. I almost made it, too...


One of my mates brought a video camera with a snake-like telescopic aperture, which he duct-taped to his helmet, giving us a good helmet-cam video. I'm looking forward to seeing the footage.

By the end of the day, I'd been hit so many times that I no longer cared that much. So when the free-for-all happened at the end, I simply walked out like the Terminator and started picking people off. :) Got a few good head shots, and since my gun (modelled after the Heckler & Koch MP5) could fire off 8 rounds per second, I rarely hit anyone just once. Photos will follow, and video will come once I get a copy of the video.

Cross Posted from: http://patchwolf.com/2009/02/20/evangelical-atheismevangelical-atheism/

Last week my wife ariall (who is a theist) challenged me with this question: Why this sudden obsession with atheism? Okay, she didn't use those words, but her message was clear, as was the reason she asked. I do have a tendency to "adopt a cause" and do it passionately for a while before it fades into the background -- like a favoured t-shirt than eventually gets tucked into the back of the wardrobe to be pulled out when convenient.

Another part of the thrust of her question was "Why do you have to raise this issue? How have you been disadvantaged by being an atheist?" Keep in mind, dear reader, that I live in Australia, which is nowhere nearly so dominated by religion-in-politics (a very deadly combination). Coming from the United States as I do, I argued that even if religion wasn't front-and-centre in the political scene, it must be one of the silent ever-present factors determining which politicians actually get elected. In this, I was happy to be shown wrong. Bob Hawke, Prime Minister of Australia from 1983 to 1991, was an agnostic. Bill Hayden, Governor-general from 1989 to 1996, was an atheist (although in my defense, the G-G is not popularly elected, but appointed by the PM, meaning that in this case, the atheist was appointed by the agnostic).

So why then, did I feel the need to make such a big deal about atheism? It would be easy to dismiss this as a "shut up, that's why" argument -- designed to do nothing but stop the discussion there -- but E- isn't the kind of person to make those arguments. I think her question was more one of trying to understand where I'm coming from and so it warranted further thought.

The question germinated in the back of my head all week long, and I turned my motivations over in my head, examining them from all angles. I read, and thought, and read some more. Why did I care so much about atheism and religion, when it had so little immediate effect on my life?

I've come up with a few answers:

It does have an immediate effect in my life. Particularly when it comes to familial relationships. My family are all devout Southern Baptists (except my brother, who rebelled and became a Presbyterian). They have no knowledge of my atheism (although my brother may have a clue, and has said he's deeply concerned), and they probably still think of me as Christian. This isn't a huge deal, since they remain state-side, but it's a deception, and it means that when we do talk, it has to be about non-religious topics. When you consider the fact that I'm a liberal and my family are conservatives, it doesn't leave us with much to talk about.

E-'s parents definitely think of me as a Christian, and here the impact is much more immediate. Instead of being 26,112 km (according to google maps, who prefer kayaks to aeroplanes) away, E's parents live a whole 3 km away. We see them on a regular basis, and this includes a bunch of their religious functions -- they are largely social events, but the Christian trappings make me feel uncomfortable. At Easter, the traditional greeting is "Christ is risen," to which you are expected to respond "Truly he is risen." I cannot, because that would be an affirmation of something I do not believe.

I know for a fact that if I "came out" to them as an atheist, it would strain relationships all around -- between them and me, and E would be caught in the middle as they'd approach her about me. That's not something I'm willing to do, so my little charade continues for now.

But it's going to come out one day. I will not lie to my children about my beliefs. And they will probably ask around about the same time that they start going to scripture classes (another post on this for another time). Once they ask, it will almost certainly come out somehow.

It's late here, so I'll post some of my other thoughts on the matter tomorrow.

(Cross-posted from http://patchwolf.com/2009/02/12/atheism_as_a_social_movement/)

My better half (E) and I were watching an old episode of BattleStar Galactica the other day, when Brother Cavil was counselling Chief Tyrol. We paused the episode and had a long discussion about religion and atheism in the context of our lives.

To make this part brief, I can be described as an atheist -- I believe that the only definition of god that fits is "the Universe as god." If it has a consciousness, it's so far beyond our comprehension and we are so far beneath its notice as to make the question of religion moot. It's not going to intercede on your behalf, and you certainly don't pray to it. Any afterlife (as part of the universe) will not be in any form that we recognise or imagine now. E has described herself to me as a Christian -- her faith is personal, while her membership in her church is social.

One of the comments I made was something along the lines of "atheism now is where homosexuals were a few years ago." E's reply was "That's ridiculous; no one's getting beaten to death because they're an atheist." And she's right. That wasn't where my main argument meant to go. But I think my comment is also right; it just needed clarification.

And it's here, in Greta Christina's article 10 Myths and Truths About Atheists that I found the same argument, only worded much better than I could put it. It neatly sums up what I meant:

6. Atheists are just being trendy.

Yes, atheism is everywhere now. In bookstores, on the news, in the blogosphere. Just like gay people were in the early '90s. African Americans in the late '50s. Women in the early '70s. There's a point in any major social movement when it reaches critical mass. It gathers adherents and sympathizers, who become more visible and vocal ... a process that's self-perpetuating.

The movement picks up steam. It can no longer be ignored. At which point the mass media has a collective "WTF?" freakout. Who are these atheists (gays, African Americans, women), and where did they come from all of a sudden? Like we haven't been here all along.

Does that make atheism trivial? A fad, something people do to be cool? Of course not. No more than being queer is. Coming out as atheist is often a big deal. It can mean losing friends, being cut off from family. It can mean getting threatened by neighbors or kicked out of school, losing job opportunities or custody of your kids. And it often means a major upheaval in how you see yourself and your life. People don't do this to be trendy. People do it to be true to themselves.

The rest of the article can be read here: http://www.alternet.org/story/126118/10_myths_and_truths_about_atheists_/?page=entire
Greta Christina's blog can be found here: http://gretachristina.typepad.com/

So, I've finally taken the plunge and set up WordPress on my main domain. Don't panic; I'm not leaving LJ -- there's too much community here for me to leave. But I will start posting on my domain's blog. Whether this will be in addition to or separate from my LJ is still to be determined; I suspect it will be a combination of the two.

Why? A few reasons -- one, I found I haven't read my friends page in such a very long time, and it doesn't look like that situation's going to change any time soon. Two, I view LJ more as a social networking site than a blogging platform. Blogging is about me and my thoughts, and I want to keep those separate from my social networking side (not that I have been a stellar success in that side of it for a long time...). Three, I like being in total control of my toys... and I can only do that with a software package completely under my control. Fourth -- and this is total vanity here -- at LJ I'm one voice in 18.3 million. At my own domain, I'm the only voice.

So. Short story, I'm not leaving LJ. I'm just... expanding. If you want to follow along, you can find me at http://patchwolf.com/. I've enabled OpenID on my blog, so you can even comment by logging into your LJ account.

See you there?

Happy mmmmmy-nnnnth birthday, my love! :)

I hate feeling like the bad guy. And that's pretty much how I feel right now.

ariall and I saw a house on the weekend. Actually, A- saw it on Thursday, then we both saw it on Friday, and then we took her parents around on Saturday to look at it. It's a 4 bed, 2.5 bath house, on approx 600sq.m. of land in a suburb not too far from where we currently live.

A- loved the house -- she gushed about it on Thursday, and eagerly sought my opinion on Friday. Sadly, I wasn't able to deliver my opinion then, apart from the doubts and misgivings I had:

• the block is an oddly-shaped one (but not odd-interesting),
• it's a considerable distance from the local telephone exchange (a consideration when it comes to getting high-speed broadband to the house),
• I thought the study was a bit too small, and
• the back half of the downstairs (kitchen, dining, and tv room) is big enough, but only if you leave it open plan like it currently is. If you close off the tv room (which I want to capacity to do), then it becomes a tad too small.

I suspected A- was getting a bit emotionally attached to the house. It's got everything she was looking for in a house, and she desperately does not want the hassle and additional cost of rebuilding where we currently are. The things I had concerns about she is not at all worried about. Fair enough: we look for different, non-conflicting things in what will become THE house. So this house represented an end to the looking and a way to avoid the fears she has about knocking down and rebuilding.

And that's why I'm the bad guy here. I'm the one responsible for crushing that hope that this could all be over, because I'm the one whole said "Sorry babe, but I don't think we can make an offer."

I was very tempted to give in. I hate disappointing A- in any way, and I could see that she was really hoping this house could be the one. But if I did, I'd be settling, and I think I would always see those things which concerned me, and I'd always know I settled for something that I didn't really want.

Sorry, babe. :(

So I'm using the semagic client to help me rapidly post something which capture my interest and so forth. Hopefully this means you'll hear more from me, but the posts are likely to be shorter.

Today's post:

Have a look at this story: http://www.news.com.au/story/0,23599,24616386-421,00.html

I'll be watching to see what kind of sentence she gets -- how much would you be willing to bet that she gets off without any gaol time? Good behaviour bond? Time served?

Now reverse the genders involved. Hell, do this for yourself and see if your reaction is different -- what if this was a male teacher who'd had an inappropriate relationship with a 14 year old boy? Do you think he'd get a light or heavy sentence? Is your reaction the same?

I don't think I can manage a daily five, but I might be able to manage a weekly five... So here goes: my first LJ post since... what is it now, early September?

1. M's started walking and talking -- nearly. He CAN take a few unsupported steps, but it seems his length strength runs through a grown-up's finger. And his talking extends to sounds that MIGHT be repetitions of words that we say -- if you really stretch.

2. My PS3 arrived on Thursday. :D I have waited a bloody long time to win ariall over to allowing me to purchase one. So far, I'm very happy with the purchase.

3. I took the first steps to setting up my karate-teaching business last weekend: I got my ABN (Australian Business Number) and registered my first .com.au domains. I won't tell you what they are just yet, because there's no content on them, but eventually, they will become the website of my own karate school. Lucky my webhosting plan offered me a free permanent upgrade to unlimited storage and unlimited data transfer...

4. I think my project at work is being set up to fail. I'm only half way through testing, and the developer has been pulled off the project to work on another, higher-priority project, but I'm expected to continue without Test Support. I don't see the point; it will fail without a developer to fix bugs. And while I might just be the messenger when it comes to failing the project, I wonder if there will still be people who view it as a killing blow rather than calling the time of death.

5. I WAS going to go to my karate class this morning. That is, until my car decided to stop working. Called NRMA road-side assistance, and was told:

1. My battery was flat, and
2. My alternator was busted, so charging the battery would only get me about a five minute drive, if that.

I got it home, called NMRA again to get them to come out and replace the alternator, only to discover that the reason the alternator died was because the power steering pump had a huge leak and was leaking oil directly onto the alternator. So now I had to get the power steering pump replaced. Total repair bill: just north of $1000.

Ugh. I can't wait for the day when electric cars become more affordable. You can bet I'll be on board for those.

Fair warning: this post is likely to contain a lot of whinging. I'm venting.

I can't believe it's been almost 5 months since my last update. At least that lends credence to my claims that we're a very busy family.

Speaking of family (see, there was a lead-in), I just recently had my family out to visit us from the USA. It's been 10 years since I saw them last, while I was a little bit excited to see them, there was also a fair amount of trepidation as well. As many of you know, my family and I don't get along very much. While I've matured and grown over the past 10 years, and that was sure to change the social dynamics, I wasn't sure how much they had changed.

Add to all that mixture some feelings of guilt in leaving my brother, who was only 10 years old at the time, and a dramatic shift in emotions toward my parents, and I was like a pressure cooker... all calm on the outside, but a boiling, roiling mass on the inside.

I could go into a day-by-day, but this post is already going to be long enough as it is. Let's start off with the good.

The Good

1. Re-connecting with my father. I gave him hell while I was growing up. I didn't respect him, because I didn't see any strength in him. He was always on medication, which I saw as a weak body, and always overweight, which I saw as weak willpower. He always deferred to my mother, who was the "voice" of my parents and their decisions. I saw that as a lack of the spine to stand up for me when she was being unreasonable. To some degree, I still see it that way, but I understand his position a little better with age.

I also learned something about him that I didn't know: apparently when he lived in Guam with his parents, he studied karate as well. Who knew? I didn't, until he mentioned it the day I took him and my brother with me to train (my brother) and watch (Dad).

Apart from an unhealthy obsession with Fox News, my dad was the best person to have around. :)

2. Re-connecting with my brother. I really missed out on his growing up. Having spent a lot of time with ariall's close family, and now having two boys of my own, I appreciate that relationship more, and realise what he and I both missed out on. Moving to Australia and wedding my beloved carried with it a steeper price than I knew at the time. I'd still pay it again, but I'm more aware of that cost now.

Oh, and my brother, who reckoned that he could take me in a fight...

me: you're still my baby brother. ;)
him: haha thanks! i'd like to see u try and beat up on me now
me: That can be arranged. ;)
him: u'd be hard pressed to be successful! i will! you might be mr martial arts, but strength and some fighting experience can hold it's own
me: "fighting experience"
me: I've had around 300 fights in the past two years... ;)
him: ok ok asian pants.....we'll have plenty of goes at it....u'll be sayin mercy when we're done!
me: I look forward to it.

...found out unequivocally that he cannot. I reestablished dominance as the older brother. :) Hey, it was important!

Oh, and my brother, when you get him going, he's hilarious! He had all of us in stitches many times while they were here.

3. My mum was here. Which meant she got to mother me a bit on the days that I was working from home -- make me breakfast or lunch, and other little things like that. :) It was nice, having that little reminder.

4. We got photos of four generations of my family together. My paternal grandparents, my parents, my brother, ariall and me, and our two boys together. How often do you get that opportunity any more. My grandparents are 81 and 89 years old, so we're fortunate that we had the chance.

The Bad

5. The crowding. Our house has two bedrooms (which is why we're looking at either moving, or knocking down and rebuilding). Ariall and I sleep in one, and the boys sleep in the other. Suddenly, we had three more people living in the house. So we put my parents in our room, Ariall and I slept on an old mattress on the floor in the front lounge, and my brother had an air mattress in the study.

6. The culture clash. My family are -- in a word -- soft. From the day they arrived, there was a steady stream of complaints -- or observations that came across as complaints. It's too cold. They can't find their favourite brand of spiced sausages on the supermarket shelves.

By and large, my family also lacks many of the social graces -- like asking if anybody else wants to watch anything on the TV before turning it to a show that they know other people in the house dislike. It might be nit-picky to include that, but there was one evening where they gathered in the tv room to watch back-to-back episodes of NCIS or Law & Order, and Ariall and I spent the evening in the kitchen washing dirty dishes and putting away clean ones.

Or how about this? How many of you would open a box of chocolates and eat them in a room full of other people without offering anyone else any?

7. The big cups. Oh. My. God. My family drinks from big cups. All the time. We don't have big cups, we have small glasses. So after complaining about a lack of big cups, they decide to drink from the biggest cups we have -- which happen to be the boys' cups. My brother was even worse in this regard. He actually drank from our ice bucket. I couldn't believe what he was doing until it was too late, I was so stunned.

When I stopped him from drinking from the ice bucket a second time, he instead drank from two glasses. As in, he'd have two full glasses of the same drink in front of his dinner plate. Instead of say, drinking one, and then refilling it as necessary. He, more than anyone else, lived up to the stereotype of the gluttonous American. I'm afraid of what is going to happen to him when his 20-year old male metabolism slows down.

8. The lack of initiative. Multiple times before they arrived, we told my family that they should plan some things on their own to do in Sydney. Ariall and I were going to be working three and two days a week respectively while they were here, and we could not make their plans for them. And still, they did very little on their own. They went to Sydney Wildlife World and the Aquarium, but that doesn't count, because I had to go with them -- hell, I booked the tickets for them. I think they went into the Sydney CBD twice during the whole three and a half weeks they were here.

My brother was better at this, but only just. He preferred to spend most of his time in our garage, playing on the PS2.

9. My grandparents are OLD. At 81 and 89, they're older than anyone imagined, and as much as we liked seeing them, I think they were too old to make the trip. My grandmother has Polymyalgia Rhuematica, a long-term illness which is best described by its name: "pain in many muscles." She cannot walk very far or do very much at all. My grandfather, who is older, is worse. He has... episodes. I'm not sure what the technical term is, but here's an example: one day he went out to sit on the front veranda to read and "commune with the cats". A short while later, I went to take my oldest son and my brother out to grab some lunch and let the boy run around on the playground when I noticed grandpa leaning at an awkward angle on the bench.

I went up to see if he wanted to go inside and lie down, when I noticed that he had a death grip on the bench with one hand, and was squeezing the hot dog I'd made him for lunch to death in the other hand. I got him to stand up with a lot of encouragement, and then my dad and I got him inside. I went to take the hot dog from him to chuck it in the rubbish bin, and I guess he thought I was trying to steal it from him, because he suddenly bent over to take a huge (and very unsteady) bite out of the hot dog. My dad got him into the bedroom where he lay down for a nap. Such episodes, while not frequent, were not uncommon.

The Ugly

Now here's where it gets really ugly.

10. The racist. My brother, who has an opinion on everything, is racist. Apart from several gross generalisations about Black Americans (the rest of the world likes to call them African-Americans, which I reserve for people like Charlize Theron) and the quality of their education and social habits, etc. etc. etc.. One of the reasons he said he wouldn't want to live in Sydney was "There are too many Asians here. If it was a little more white..." I nearly disowned him on the spot for that one.

11. The belittling. My mum and my brother both do this. They gang up on my dad, constantly belittling his... everything. They wouldn't let him pack his own clothing for the trip, citing the apparent fact that he has no sense of fashion. So what do they do? They pick out his clothes for him! Stop and think about that for a minute.... The man's not allowed to pick out his own clothes. They treat him almost like I would treat D, who is three years old. There's something deeply wrong about that. If you listen to my brother, then Dad's wrong about everything... always. He's very public about that opinion, and my mum (when she's not joining in) sits by and says nothing about it. I'm almost certain that she doesn't say anything because she doesn't think she can get through to him, but I don't think she realises that by saying nothing, she's giving tacit permission and approval.

12. The Sense of Entitlement. And this one goes really too far. Ariall's parents offered to give Grandma & Grandpa a place to sleep. My grandparents treated the place like you would a hotel -- complete with specific requests for breakfast, and asking Ariall's parents to do their laundry for them. Considering they came down with a strong bout of gastroenteritis in the first few days they were here, and this was accompanied by explosive diarrhea, they really overstayed their welcome there. Hell, I had to leave work early to come home and get Grandma up and out of bed at Ariall's parents place on the second day they were here. Considering that it's a 40-minute train ride home from work, that's ridiculous.

There's a bit of martyrdom in there, too. As mentioned previously, I took my brother to the dojo one day. Dad and Mum were in town with some internet friends of theirs who flew out from Perth to see them, so when it came time to leave for the dojo, my brother and I left grandma & grandpa at home. When My mum came home, she asked grandma & grandpa what they'd had for lunch, and grandma replied that grandpa had had some bread and she'd found some cheese -- exactly as if we hadn't told them multiple times that they had free run of the kitchen and pantry.

Over all, it was a VERY stressful visit. As long as it happens once every 10 years, it'll be bearable. Sadly, I don't think my grandparents will last that long. It's a horrible thing to say, but I almost wish they hadn't come -- we had excellent memories of their last visit (for our wedding 10 years ago), and now those memories are... tarnished.

/vent.

(I'm not stressed, but I stressed myself out writing this post.)

It's been a long time since I posted, and even longer since I posted anything but stories and pictures of my boys. But today I feel a like posting a bit about me.

I'm a regular listener of the Spoonman's podcast. I would listen to it live, but he broadcasts between 8PM and 11PM, which is my time to spend with my family. Last night's show was regarding the news stories yesterday about the number of homeless youth in Australia. So if you some background on this post, check out the following links:

* http://news.smh.com.au/govt-pledges-150m-for-homeless/20080408-24fh.html
* http://www.smh.com.au/news/national/homeless-youth-a-nations-shame/2008/04/07/1207420301718.html
-- in what could be described as a statement on how much people want to avoid the issue, both of these articles were breaking news yesterday. Today, they're completely off the radar unless you search for them.

* http://austereo.castmetrix.net/podcast/378302368699150807/1/SpoonmanWhatshouldwedoaboutyouthhomelessness.mp3 -- Spoonman's podcast (39m 44s long).

Not a lot of people know this, but for 4 months when I was 19 or 20 years old, I lived out of a backpack on the streets of my college town. School was out, and so the dorms were closed. I couldn't afford an apartment because I needed one month's rent as a security deposit, AND one month's rent up front. I had no job, again because the school was out, and local businesses weren't hiring for what is essentially their slow season. There was no way in hell that I was going to go back home, because I had a terribly temultuous relationship with my parents (long story, but the end result was that I felt they had betrayed the trust a parent is supposed to engender in their children). So in at least one respect, my pride kept me homeless. I've no doubt they would have taken me in if I'd asked, but I don't think they would have taken me in without making a judgement call against me, and that I couldn't stomach. My friends were gone for the summer, so I couldn't stay with them. Long and short of it was that I had nowhere to go.

Let's talk for a minute about what it's like to be homeless and then I'll tell you what I did to keep going. First off, the daytime is your friend... there are lots of places you can go to spend the day indoors in the case of bad weather. But when night falls, and the shops start to close, you need to be gone already, because you don't want to look like loiterer. If you draw attention, they'll be mor elikely to kick you out, and then recognise you the next time you want to get indoors. If you're lucky enough to have some cash, you look for the cheapest food that you don't need to cook -- which isn't the cheapest food available. And you go without a lot, because every cent you spend on your survival is one less cent you have available to drag yourself out of the rut.

Sleep is the next priority. You want somewhere out of the way, where you won't be seen by the authorities, and yet you want some place sheltered, in case it rains. The two are often mutually exclusive. Now stop and think about what all this does. You don't get enough sleep, or enough food, and you don't have basic necessities like running water in which to bathe. So you look tired, dirty and hungry. Who's going to hire someone who doesn't come to the interview looking fresh and eager? Not to mention, the first thing they ask you when you go for a job is "where do you live?" How do you get a job when you don't have an address? If you don't get hired, you can't get any money with which to improve your lot. It's not an easy place to be.

It's easy for us to say that there are shelters available for those struggling, but you know, I couldn't find any. I didn't know where to go, and it required a certain kind of bravery that I don't think I had then to go to someone and confess exactly what a place I was in. I didn't want to burden anyone else with my problems. It's a bit of sticky social situation, because while we might say that we want to help, it makes us all uncomfortable to be confronted with it. Not sure why that is. Maybe it's because you feel so alone -- there's a separation between you and the next guy -- he has a place to sleep, and place to call home, and you don't.

I got through it, because I had a little bit of warning. I knew I had no money and the dorms would be closing. So I packed what I needed into a backpack -- a change of clothes, a towel, shampoo, soap, and a small pillow. I scouted out places I could get the bare minimums done for free. The local Baptist Student Union building had an outside laundry with washing machine and dryer. I'd sneak onto the property in the middle of the night to wash the clothes I wasn't wearing that night. There wasn't always washing powder in the room, so sometimes it was nothing more than a water wash, but that's better than nothing.

I showered in the University's swim centre when it was open. Pools gotta have showers, right? I spent my days in the University library, where I could sit at the computer or read a book and look like I belonged. Sleeping and eating were the only problem areas. Fortunately, I knew of a church in the area. I've heard that god's house was always open, but that proved to be false -- they locked the doors at night. So I went during the day, picked a room on the ground floor with a window and limited view from the street, and simply unlock the window. Then, late at night when most people were already sleeping, I'd come back to the church, slip in through the unlocked (but still closed) window, and head upstairs to the youth centre, where there was a couch I could crash on. I'd have to be up before the church was opened again, but that was rarely a problem. I killed two birds with one stone this way, because I could slip down to the church kitchen, and pilfer some food there. A sandwich or two was never a dent in the church budget.

Yes, it was breaking and entering and theft. When you're in that place, right or wrong becomes a very relative issue.

Thankfully, this situation only lasted four months. When the school term started back up again, I got my next student loan payment, and was able to go back to living like a student (which felt like living like a king). But this time taught me something very important about myself... it taught me exactly what I could and could not live without, and so I no longer felt slighted by not having all the same things that other people had.

There is a secret to surviving on the streets. Part of it is recognising which of your morals are more flexible than others. But a rather large part of it is finding a place within yourself -- a sense of self, and knowing that you will do what you have to do to come out of it, and having the conviction to believe that you can. It's that sense of self that keeps you from falling deeper into the pit, and helps you recognise and appreciate what you have accomplished, and recognise that you can do more. That sense of self is a combination of self-confidence and self-reliance, and it's a hard thing to come by, but once you have it, it stays with you.

Looking back over this, it might seem as if I'm saying that homeless people need to do it themselves, and therefore aid programs are counter-productive. I'm not; that's not what I believe. And look, my experience is not the same as other homeless people. One very important factor is that I knew I only had to get through it for four months; many of today's homeless have no such assurances. So I'm not trying to say anything grandious about society and the state of homeless people; I'm not qualified on any level to talk about that. But Spoony's podcast made me think and remember, and I wanted to share some of my experience with you. It was not a good time. I didn't like wondering where my next meal was coming from, or where I'd be able to sleep that night. But it was a crucible for me, and it definitely helped me find my center. ariall's mum has sometimes remarked that I'm one in a million -- one of those people that nothing really fazes. I don't know about the one in a million, but that second part is true, and I think a large part of it came from this experience. I know what (and who) I need, and everything else is just... extra.

This has been an intensely personal post, and I'm choosing to leave it unlocked. Who knows? Someone might read this who needs to. And it might make some other people think, and I don't want my fears about my public image to get in the way of that potential, even if nothing ever comes of it.

I'm setting up a "dad-filter" where I will be posting amusing tidbits and photos of my boys. Comment if you want to be added to the filter. Some of you will be added unless you comment to say you'd rather not be. :)

I've been reading a lot about the US Election lately -- well the race for the Nominations, at any rate.

What I've been reading a lot of recently is how feminists are getting upset that Obama's in the lead for the Democratic Nomination over Hillary -- and the comment has been that they feel upset that we're missing the chance to put a woman in the White House.

I want wanted to record this... and possibly get people thinking. If you're voting (or even cheering) for Hillary because she's a woman and you want a woman in the White House, you're missing the point entirely. In fact, if that's the primary reason you're doing it, you're engaging in sexism. (I'd call it reverse discrimination, but that's an oxymoron.)

This isn't about what gender is in the White House. It's not about what race is in the White House. It's about putting the best person for the job in the White House, and that's all it's about.

Personally, I lean towards Obama -- I think that working with the system won't get us much in the way of change, and I think that Washington needs some massive shaking up. When the time comes to vote in the general election, my vote will go to the Democratic candidate (the Republicans have burned us badly by making GWB their candidate in 2000 and again in 2004. McCain seems a different sort than GWB, but I'm not willing to take the risk), whether that's Obama or Hillary, because I think either one of them would be better than the Republicans.

Please, think about why you're voting (or cheering) for one candidate over another. If it's just to put a woman in the White House, then you're sexist. If it's just to put a black man in the White House, then you're racist. It's not about how you vote; it's about your motivations.

D will take a blanket or a muslin wrap, drap it over his head, and then go "oooooo, I'm a goose!"

He of course means a ghost. It always cracks me up. What's even funnier (in a cute sort of way), is that M gets scared whenever this happens, and starts to cry. :)

D is a bit of a goose... but it's very cute.

So I'm gonna bite the bullet and write it. Oh, by the way, Happy Arbitrary Calendar Event (also known as Happy New Year).

I had about 10 days or so over the christmas period to spend at home with my family, and it was fantastic. My boys are incredible, and if you'll pardon my fatherly pride, I want to gush about them for a while.

D is at an incredible stage in his life right now. Just about every day, he'll see ariall and I talking, and he'll interrupt with (exact words) "Daddy, what you talking to Mummy?" (Translation: What are and Mummy talking about?) Not bad for a two-and-a-half year old. I just love that he wants to know what's going on in the family, and he wants to be included. Whenever he asks that, whoever he addressed will make a point of stopping and explaining (as much as we can to a two year old, but without dumbing it down) whatever it is we're discussing. I really really hope it helps blossom our relationship into one of open communication for a long time to come, and I hope it helps him to learn to think about these things on his own.

I've also started letting Daniel tackle me with a hug when I get home. I love the mental image of him running to me with a hug and throwing himself at me hard enough to knock me over. So I let him do it for now. One day he won't want to any more.

But the real winner in my time home was M. Our relationship was mostly functional before this break. When we brought him home from the hospital, a large part of my time was taken up with D, making sure he didn't feel left out, and picking up the slack in the areas where ariall had to let go so she could look after M. Early days and all that. Then it was back to work for me -- leaving me with at most, an hour a day to split between both boys. I'd keep M (who was usually tired and fussy at the end of his day) entertained while ariall ate and convinced D to eat his dinner, then I'd eat while Ariall gave M his bath. Then she'd put M to sleep while I gave D his bath. Not much time for father/son bonding.

But with the break, all of a sudden I had time to spend with M in the earlier parts of the day, when he's happy and smiling and wants to play. So I indulged. I found his first tooth, right around christmas. He was chewing on my finger, and all of a sudden I said "Is that a tooth?" and it was! :) Now he really knows who I am, and gives me a really big face-splitting smile when he sees me. It was the best thing of all christmas. M's a real chatterbox, too. At one point we just "coo"'d and "agubzat"'d to each other for at least half an hour.

I'm back at work now, so I'm back to the hour a night routine, but I'm more than "the person who carries me around" in the evening; I'm "that person I know and love who carries me around and plays with me and I can go to when I'm crying to be comforted" in the evening.

I love being a Dad. I love being a Dad to my boys even more.