Children and All That Jazz

So I'm going to Chicago in a few days. The main attraction will be the opportunity to see my little niece for the first time. For those of you who haven't heard, Abigail Sofia was due somewhere in March. My sister told me her original due date was the 7th, then bumped back to the 21st, then they were going to induce on the 18th. So several weeks out, I predicted the birth of my niece on St. Patrick's Day, and that the happy parents should acknowledge that by throwing some Irish name in there. I like the name Abigail, but either a replacement middle name or two middle names wouldn't be the worst idea, I thought.

To show how much we listen to Uncle Chris, the baby was born on March 17, as predicted, and the planned name didn't change at all. Was Siobahn, Nuala, Moira or Brianne such a bad idea? *sighs* Whatever, then. Of course, I've been told something on the line of "when you have your own child, you can stick whatever name you feel like on him/her/them."

When I have my own child... you know, even from those people who I know were under familial pressure to reproduce, I tend not to take this commentary very well. I will give my family credit and say that it was never a point of contention. Therefore, in the early years of my marriage, it was easy to respond to the inevitable question of "when are you going to have kids?" with "well, I'm practicing as diligently as I can!" Needless to say, said marriage didn't exactly proceed according to plan, so most of me thinks it's a good thing there were no children. Spoken like a true product of a divorced childhood.

Nevertheless, somehow there's a pattern that the stereotypical life is supposed to favor. Go to school, get a job, get married, have 2.5 children, have a house with a white picket fence and a dog (please not a cat!), grow old together, watch your children repeat this process, spoil your grandchildren, die peacefully in a contented old age. Somehow, failing to complete this journey brings forth some doubts as to whether "a full life" has been led.

Now, as of this writing, I am as far as I know without progeny. Again, I'm usually pretty damn sure that this is a good idea. I'm nothing if not practical, cynical (why do I sound like I'm heading towards singing Supertramp?) and rational. Overpopulation, lack of faith in this world being a better place than the one I came into, the thought that I'm a little overly concerned with myself to believe that I'd be a good father, lack of interest in ever seriously saying the words "baby mama" and I could think of a few others. "But you'll have no one to watch over you when you get old" has actually been given to me as a reason to procreate, and I think "do I want to have kids just to make them do that?" If that's the best reason to come up with, I'll pass, thanks.

It's not inconceivable (all puns are intended) that this could happen in the future. People are living longer, and I'm rather young for my age (immature could probably be used just as easily), and in decent shape. Starting a family at 40 is hardly unusual. Hey, 40 is the new 30! But you know, the fact is that some people in every generation just don't have children, for any one of a variety of reasons. In my group of friends, it seems to be an almost 50-50 split. The ones who are currently unmarried make up the majority of the childless, but there are couples that seem to be perfectly content not bringing rugrats into this plane of existence.

As with the kind of questions I ask my classes when I try and foster debate, there is no truly correct answer (though most of you reading will at least be able to understand what I mean if I threw out the term "anthropomorphic" but that's a rant for the future, perhaps). My existential musing is winding down, and circling back to the start of the post, I expect to have pictures of Abigail Sofia to share at some point. But when I'm conned into changing my first diaper, I don't promise that the thought "at least I don't have to do this regularly" won't run through my head like a bullet train. Auf Wiedersehen!

"I guess sometimes you need the place where you belong"

So I've been playing a lot on this trivia site (http://www.funtrivia.com/?ref=triviapoet for those of you who missed that posted link on Facebook) and the music categories often talk about how this album or this song in that year, and how 5, 10, 20, 50 or however many round years ago something happened. And some of my favorites never make it on to that list. So I started thinking that it was 10 years ago about this time of year that I fell in love with the album Central Reservation by Beth Orton.

With BMG and no end of used CD stores, and a lack of music stores memberships to give me discounts (which I am in no short supply of these days), I didn't often walk into a store and walk out with a $15 dollar CD. I did the day I heard snippets of this album. I knew her work from her previous album Trailer Park (thanks little sis!) but while some people who shall remain nameless always favored that album, I was completely hooked on this neat little nugget from the jump.

The lead single, Stolen Car, gives this particular post it's title, and will show up again on its own when and if I do some of the list/opinion posts promised in my previous post of all of about 20 minutes ago. But it goes beyond that. Stars All Seem To Weep is a very good song that totally captures a unique reflective electronic pose that I don't hear many other places, Sweetest Decline is a soft melody backed by what I think is her strongest vocal performance on the album, and the title track in both its original and remixed forms nicely finish off the two sides of the record (assuming of course it was an album and not the CD). It's one of those albums you can put on, and despite having clear strong favorites, listen to the whole thing without impatience.

For several years, I was prone to say this was the best album I had heard in the last however many years it had been up to that point. I have heard somewhere between a couple and a few albums in the last 10 years I might definitely say are better than this one, but that's about it. Where I've made mixes for who knows how many people with Stolen Car or Stars All Seem To Weep on it, I don't often make copies of whole albums for people unless they are looking for something specific. If you read this, and you ask, I will happily comply. And I doubt you will regret asking.

Oops, I didn't do it again... some more

Hmm, late February was a while ago, wasn't it? And we have just hit upon the crux on why I never have felt like I should be doing a blog. I never kept up with a diary for very long. I couldn't name you the last year when I wrote more than 1 poem. I seem to be the person to have an immediate, visceral reaction to something, and call or e-mail someone, and then it passes. It might be a good thing that nothing has made me indignant enough to put it down, or it might be a sad thing that nothing poignant enough has inspired me.

Let's see, to catch up...

Turned 35 -- Perhaps because it's not a full "round number" kind of thing, it didn't carry a ton of weight. Perhaps because it's just another year. Perhaps because with a small circle of relatively new friends here in Richmond, several of whom didn't know it was my birthday, I was able to keep it very low key. Perhaps it was because, by comparison with the last birthday of note (this would be the big 3-0) life around me wasn't leaving me beset by all of what I called the "M squad" - melancholy, morose, melodramatic, miasmatic, macabre, miserable and maladjusted, and I think you get the point now - and I could keep things in some kind of perspective.

Back into teaching - got two weekend seminars teaching with my boss/sometimes partner Elisabeth at U of R, one which took place in May and one which will occur in July, giving lectures on Virginia history and babysitting youngish adults on field trips around the city. You know, St. John's Church, The Capitol, Historical Society and such. The fact that the students are all au pairs has amused more than one person, including my boss, who said I needed to join her on this particular job to give the students someone other than an old lady to look at. *shakes head with grin on face*
Also will be leading an independent study for three students taking a liberal arts senior seminar class in the second six weeks of summer. So those combined should about equal what I gave up in Roanoke if we assume I'd have gotten a summer class to go with the spring class I forfeited to move. And I'm already lined up with a class for the fall, and maybe yet another weekend seminar. No word if it will be 20 or so students, 90-95% of whom will be women aged 19-26 from foreign places. Yes, I was probably looking at some of them as much as they might have been inclined to look at me.

Sin City - I entered the cheapest World Series of Poker event there has been since the explosion in the "sport" (and I use the term dubiously). It still wasn't cheap, and I didn't cash. But I lasted several hours, and not for one second did I think I did not belong. This, I needed to know. I didn't tell anyone, but if I had gone and felt hopelessly outclassed, I might have, well, not quit playing altogether, but stopped working seriously to make myself a good player. This also means when Jason inevitably gets heads up with me and has a worse hand and inevitably sucks out (those of you who haven't heard this don't even want to get me started on bad beat stories about this guy, I promise), I will still want to go into a Phil Hellmuth-style rant. That's kind of a pity, because I like Daniel Negreanu so much better.

Inspiration to write - El Chuxter has discussed reawakening the pop culture website idea I had several years ago (under the title mag-seven.com for those of you who might remember hearing about it), and I have actually considered posting once or twice on subjects, making lists again, and All That Jazz (that one was for Karaoke Girl). So, probably even less touchy-feely shit in the future, barring that kind of inspiration. But, debate worthy opinions will likely be posted more regularly. *cracks knuckles* Look for one very soon.

Peace out, peeps!