I woke up to find our cat Minerva-B-Dog-Destroyer-Of-Civilization walking around with an six-inch blade of grass sticking out of her rear end. Apparently she didn’t get the memo that she’s supposed to throw that stuff up :/
I couldn’t just pull it out of her. I think that would be painful, or at least uncomfortable to her, not to mention me, as I would struggle to manhandle a squirmy ball of claws and teeth. Instead I decided to use the scissors on my utility knife to cut the grass off near the base, and let the rest happen in the litter box later today.
The squirming was still in effect, but I managed to accomplish my task. Now to wash my Leatherman!
For years I have been toying with the idea of starting something like this. My plans never fully coalesced until recently, but there was always something simmering.
Lately though the simmer has become a boil. Between a major shift in my job responsibilities several months ago, and planning and executing an incredible DIY wedding with my sweetheart, this tumultuous year has forced my hand — I need a creative outlet.
Assisting in shaping this current headspace has been Arcade Fire’s new album The Suburbs. It’s basically been on a constant loop in my car, house and headphones. It’s a smart, sprawling, beautiful album, that really speaks to me as the kid who escaped the miserable desert suburbs of Tucson.
But the album (and life) are not that simple. After a dozen or more listens, I am seeing past the obvious criticisms of “the burbs” and now finding nuance. There is wonderful nostalgia in some of the songs, about things like riding bikes, learning to drive, writing letters, and late-night makeout sessions at the neighborhood park. These are genuine, lovely memories, which quite frankly are hard to accept in the context of my overt disdain for the suburban living arrangement.
And let’s be real, this kid is now a 30-something man. I’m just not the same zine-making, skateboard-riding, punk-rock-listening angry youth. Today in fact is my 36th birthday, which means I have now spent half of my life as an adult, a point not lost on me as I spent Saturday a couple weeks ago record shopping and lollygagging around Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley. School was about to get under way, and hordes of freshmen were wandering around, parents and siblings in tow. It struck me then that I was witnessing a part of the same journey that I had taken 18 years prior, when my Mom and I road-tripped from Tucson to Berkeley, and she dropped me off at the Unit 3 dorms. “That was half my life ago” I said to myself as I looked around. These kids must have been wondering what the creepy old guy with the mustache and wedding ring was doing in their midst, drinking beer without getting carded, and what’s this, shopping for CD’s at Amoeba?
CD’s??? Who is that weird guy?
It’s a rhetorical question of course, but maybe working on this blog will help me figure that out a bit. I don’t entirely know where I’m going with it, and it’s going to be an experiment. A lot of blogs are executed with a real sense of motivation, showcasing the blogger as a chef, an entrepreneur, a journalist, or what-have-you. But I have enough interests that I don’t want to limit myself to just one of them, and truth be told, I’m not spectacular enough at anything to dedicate a whole blog to it.
Conversely a lot of blogs follow the old “here’s-a-place-for-my-random-thoughts” approach. They tend to ramble from post to post, seemingly with no real purpose. Honestly I’m scared I’ll fall too far into this category. Yes, I am obviously looking for a personal creative outlet, but no, I don’t want to become a navel-gazing-attention-whore.
Hopefully I’ll land somewhere between these two styles, with a consistent, yet interesting and diverse approach to my blogging.
Future generations will have to decide if I have been successful or not. For now though, it’s time for bed.