Portland the first seven days

The first week was over last night and so far so good. The Wife is acclimating to bigger town life pretty well -- although she hasn't driven a car here yet. We moved in with The Fam while we search for a house to buy. I'm not sure how long that process will take, but my parents are pretty cool except for all of the potential "When are you going to get a job" talk.

I haven't told The Fam of my desire to write professionally again. The easiest way to make it seem viable to them would be to pick up some freelance writing gigs from my old contacts, but I'm not particularly in the mood to write non-fiction right now. It's between keeping my secret and putting up with the nudges of going back to work, and right now I don't want anyone pissing on my dreams by asking me how I plan to make money from writing screenplays. The Plan remains on a need to know basis for now. While I know they would be supportive, it most certainly would be considered pie in the sky. Now that I am living under their roof again -- no matter for how long -- does that mean they have a say in what I do?

The Fam never pulled the "My roof. My rules." bullshit on me when I was a kid, but then again they didn't have to. I was mostly an upright citizen from the get go. I mean, shit, until last October, my employment history had been very fluid since I was 12 years old. The Fam are very practical Baby Boomers and not the peace and love hippie kind who would promote following your bliss without being responsible about it. The drive to be responsible was part of the reason I was stuck in a career that I hated (just because it payed well).

Secrets aside, everything has been peace and love since we got here. The Fam is happy to have us here and the adjustments for The Wife have been good. We head back to the coast tonight for her weekend -- which is surprisingly on the weekend. The next blog is scheduled for Monday upon our return. In the meantime, here's how exciting/boring our lives have been in our new city.

Day One (Friday):
We got a late start as usual. It never fails, whenever I want to leave at a certain time, something always causes us to drag our feet. The wife was scheduled to work at her new location from 5:15 to 10:15 p.m. so we had plenty of time to get to PDX from the coast. However, there were a few things I wanted to do with the wife before she went work after we got to town, but because of our late start, I had to do them on my own while she was at work.

The main stop was at the Apple Store where I bought us iPhones. Originally I was only going to buy one for myself, but since they had both the 4 GB and the 8, I got the smaller one for the wife. I am trying to get her hooked on texting so she will actually use it.

I had heard about the CrackBerry and it's addiction factor. But with an HTML web browser, the iPhone has got to have it beat. I ran the battery out daily the first four days I had it. All I can say is it is awesome to have email and the web at my fingertips. My only complaints are the inability to block highlight text for deletion and the lack of cut and paste.

I am never bored now because when I have to wait all I have to do is pull out the phone to bide my time. If I would have had one of these jobbies about two years ago, I probably never would have left management at the old job.

I pick The Wife up from work and give her her new iPhone. I am a good husband today.

Day Two (Saturday):
I received the first of many subtle hints regarding when I was going to get a job. The Wife had an excellent day at work and seems to be having a boost in her confidence that I have not seen before.

Day Three (Sunday):
Football day in America. The combination of my DirecTV satellite dish and my dad's HD Dish Network is my ultimate dream. We have two TVs set up so we can watch multiple games at once. I am a selfish hubby today.

Day Four (Monday):
I take the wife to her school to take an entrance test. She's already been accepted so it is just a formality. She passes it with flying colors.

I'm just sitting there playing on my iPhone while she attends to the minutia of getting signed up for classes. She needs to take the latest evening classes so she can work while she goes to school. They tell her being in that block of classes is not a given even though she is one of the first people to sign up for the next series of classes.

Apparently the website that directed us to these people put us in touch with an admissions recruiter who floats from town to town and that the school gives priority to its own admissions counselors' students on class schedule. I'm trying to stay out of it because I'm trying to force The Wife into this independence thing and dealing with shit on her own, but when they start giving her a hard time, I stand up and cry bullshit.

"Here's the deal," I tell them. "If she doesn't get these classes at this time, she's not going to your school."

They back down quickly and say, "Well we don't normally do this, but we will this time."

Why fucking make the woman jump through hoops if it is as easy as that? It's one of those technical colleges that charges way too much for way too little, but the wife has to take these classes to get certified to become a Pharmacy Tech. They kind of have us over a barrel in that respect. The only place we have them in bad shape is that they are really only in it for the money. And since we aren't taking any financial aid, I plan to lord it over them whenever they give us a hard time.

Day Five (Tuesday):
I go to Costco and buy The Wife flowers. I am a good husband again today.

While in the parking lot, an asshole with a jacked up pick-up truck runs his bumper against my taillight and tailgate, leaving a mark that will have to be buffed out. Not a big deal, but a pain in the ass none the less. However, the fucker didn't leave a note or anything. Way to respect another person's property. I know the person is an employee there, so that truck will be in the lot again sometime soon. And so will I.

While The Wife is at work, I totally rearranged the room we are staying in so she will feel comfortable. It was kind of cluttered due to the things we brought with us for our initial stay. She is happy when she sees the results. I am a doubly good hubby today.

Day Six (Wednesday):
The wife has her first bad day. Even though she has more seniority than anyone in her department, she's getting bitch duty as the new girl in the location. Hopefully this will teach her some mental toughness. I tell her to stand up for herself and give her some tricks of the trade since I used to be a manager for the company.

We go out for drinks to help her feel better.

Day Seven (Thursday):
The Fam left for Monterey and the Monterey Jazz Festival this morning. We are babysitting their three dogs while they are away. They are very noisy at night. Since I haven't been sleeping well since the move, this only makes things worse. I also have started a project to get rid of all the clutter The Fam has accumulated since they moved into this house almost 10 years ago. When they get back, it's going to look nothing like they have seen before.

The emperor has no clothes

Dear Penthouse Forum,

I never thought this would happen to me but a recent experience caused me to put aside my skepticism. I have come to believe that using gratuitous sex and graphic language has become the newest version of the infernal air duct escape route.

Writa please.

(Actually, I don't know if I need to point the finger at network execs, directors or writers. In any case, it's time to stop being lazy and use dialogue and decent plots to drum up excitement about a show. I realize this hasn't worked for Aaron Sorkin, but not everyone can be a misunderstood, under-appreciated genius.)

Back in the day when NYPD Blue was pushing the envelope with Dennis Franz's stark, raw, white cheeks, the shock value had some merit. However, in an age of freedom where cable networks have relaxed standards and practices, sex and language are used ad nauseam. Just because you can doesn't mean you should. Rousting the Puritans is passe. It's the difference between Jerry Seinfeld and Andrew Dice Clay.

I know this from experience because when my writing gets lethargic the easiest way to overcome is to be salacious. Obviously I am not a Boy Scout or someone who should be pointing a finger, but writers are using this cop out way too freely. Especially with the opportunities not working for the Big Three provides. (It's still the Big Three. Fox straddles the line of cable and network.)

The prime example is HBO's newest show, Tell Me You Love Me. It's horribly cliched: the married couple with kids who don't do it anymore; the engaged couple where the guy still wants to be with other women; the married couple who are having trouble conceiving; and the older couple who still have sex. Despite that worn out hag of assertion, the show has its merits. The writing isn't terrible and the premise could spark discussion. Although, it is no Faulkner.

The sex scenes seemed to be there to compensate for this something lacking. Clearly they were going for the watercooler talk when they showed the young engaged couple having make-up sex where she rolls up on top of him gristing her way to orgasm while exposing and crushing his balls into her ass crack. Of course they had to top that with geriatric oral in the closing scene. It was more wanton than anything on Skinemax. It was like gateway porn for women.

Don't get me wrong. I really appreciated the chance to see Penny from Lost's beaver. (Although I wish she could have cooed with her English accent. And the way she produced her tongue for her counterpart to suck on in post-coital bliss ... extremely hot!) I also enjoyed the chance to profile glimpses of Pammy from UWs boobies. That's just the dirty old man in me.

The way these scenes were shot was to generate buzz, not further a story. Again. Not complaining. Just pointing out the Ferrari in the garage. It's just lazy.

Then there was Californication's promotion. The ads they ran on Showtime were a complete disservice. It was tit shot, after sex shot, after snarky Duchovny one liner. The essence and genius of the show is the one liner, not the T&A. Why pander to the lowest common denominator when you have a masterpiece. Pearls before swine.

This is why I don't think that the writers are completely to blame.

I like tits. I like ass. I like sex. I'm even for Kevin showing his Bacon from time to time. Just don't use it to spruce up writing that's lacking or denigrate genius so it will appeal to the masses. It seems to me that a truly intelligent artiste will be able to avoid the truly gratuitous for gratuity's sake.

And don't tell me, "After that we went back and did it all over again."

And you may ask yourself:Well ... how did I get here?

My version of walkabout is officially over. I have nothing to keep me in a state of neither here nor there. The sleeper must awaken. My indeterminate course must come to an end. If this was a true rite of passage, liminality must give way fruition.

Up until now, there has always been something on the horizon that I could use to distract myself from moving forward in my plans. Now I've got nothing. Sabbatical time is over. I have no travel plans. I have relocated to the big city. The only things on my plate are to acclimate the wife to urban living, play chauffeur and write screenplays. It is time to get busy doing.

As far as I am concerned, my ass is strapped to this chair in front of this computer. It's time to buckle down and get serious. The recharging portion of my journey is finished. I have done everything I wanted to do except put out a completed screenplay. A little put up or shut up is in order. Fun time is over.

It was this time last year when David Byrne's lyrical prophecy rang true for me. A month later I was on a path of ambiguity and openness that was a very freeing experience. But the Talking Heads' forecast comes with a sullen resolution that I am determined to avoid. Same as it ever was.

I'm not going to have it.

Sitcoms may actually depict real life

Walking around Disneyland has led me to believe shows like According to Jim, King of Queens, Still Standing, etc., etc. have not been lying to us. Fat, pudgy, stocky men can get hot women to marry them. I think the key is knocking them up early -- before they realize what they have bought into.

That or having a wallet the size of Jupiter.

Anyway there are Doable Moms at every turn and I am experiencing the Magic Kingdom in quite a different way. It’s not that I hadn’t noticed them before. This time, however, I have kids in tow as the 9-year-old niece and 9-month-old nephew are tagging along with the wife and I. There is definitely a shared connection with these other “parents” as I appear to be just another dad toting around a couple of ankle biters. The desperation they express in those looks is so telling.

This is why I will never have kids if I can help it. It’s just like marriage. All married friends try to con the rest of the single world into thinking that nuptials are the answer to life’s loneliness secret. Anyone who has taken the plunge knows that you are just exchanging one form of despair for another. Then said friends start in with, “When are you going to have kids?”

OK, I fell for the marriage trap twice. I’m going to learn from my mistakes. Marriage was firmly in the bad column when I did it the second time. Obviously I went against my better judgment. Everything that I dreaded about marriage is playing out exactly as I knew it would. I’ve come to appreciate the institution with Wife No. 2, but that doesn’t mean I don’t long for the freedom of singlehood any less.

Why would having a kid be any different?

The kid myth is that your life is so much more fulfilled when you have them. Whenever I cry bullshit, I always earn the response of, “Once you have one of your own, you’ll understand.” That’s just the lie they tell you to buy into the program. Just like new car smell, the fulfillment factor wears off.

I don’t like being around kids on a day to day basis. I find that three days with them is plenty to soothe me for a long period. I’ll admit I had fun teaching my niece to dive in the swimming pool and showing her all the secrets of Disneyland, but that is enough for me. Dealing with poopie diapers, incessant screaming and a constant need for attention piles up. I know it will drive me insane.

People make the mistake of telling me I am being selfish by having this stance. I say all you breeders are being selfish for having more kids and depleting all the resources this planet has to offer. Don’t get me started on all you morons who have to have a child because it is one part mommy, one part daddy. (By the way, if you are going to try to have a kid, try adoption. Just because you can have children doesn’t mean you should. There are lots of kids who need a good home.) I’ll admit I like not having the anchor of childhood around my neck, but that doesn’t make me selfish.

It makes me know what I like.

And this fat fuck likes hot moms.

Pictures from my current world

Stuck

I'm stuck in hotel wireless wifi hell. How many times do I have to rail against this crap? The wifi provided by hotels is perhaps the worst internet connection on the planet. Put dedicated connection ports in every room. Argh! I'd rather use dial up.

Anyway, I have to go to the lobby to connect with any reliability, so no blogs until I get home. Until then I wish you all a good day.

Mitch all grown up?

Mitch Kramer from Dazed and Confused:



Jered Weaver of the Anaheim Angels:



The Mariners are breaking my heart right now. If they get swept by the Angels, I think I might cry. Terrible time for a swoon. It sure would help if the umpires would give the M's a call every now and again.

The wife and I went to Game One of the series on Monday. I am so happy she has come to love baseball and football. I bought her a Mariners jersey and had her name and number put on it. She will be wearing it when we go to the Anaheim-Oakland game when we're at Disneyland next week.

Yep, it's time for another road trip. Although this is the last one for who knows how long. Incidentally, you can see pictures from the last road trip: here.

Hopefully, when I get back I will be ready to put all my insights down on bloggage.