A Finite Expanse

agent_smart @ 2008-04-16T23:25:00

2008-04-17T04:00:19Z

I've been concerned about Jack's language development, so I took him to the public school headquarters to be evaluated, to see if he would need a language therapist. The process took a couple of months (because they spaced out the assessments by months), and I finally had the meeting with them, today, to talk about whether they thought he qualified for special education.

My feelings about the "special education" have been really ambivalent. On one hand, it sucks to have your child labeled that way, but it's really worse for them to need help that they don't get, further exacerbating the problem. So, knowing that Jack has a good brain in his head, but feeling he just needed some help articulating what was in it and understanding people, I decided that I'd like him to get any help he could possibly get, before starting kindergarten.

So, the results were: he tested highest in speech and language. Everything else was low average, but, specifically, they thought his fine motor skills were so bad, they think he needs a teacher to come to our house, every week, to work on them.

Now, I hope to god that I have been wrong and they are right. But I can't help but worry about the results. What if, what if, what if. What if he does need a language therapist, and since he won't get one, it will land him in special ed classes in elementary school? I think it's weird that he'll be 4 next month, but he can't string most sentences together, correctly. He has an extensive vocabulary and great pronunciation, but it's the grammar that's lacking. He takes what I say out of context, because he scrambles up the words in the sentence. Sometimes, he even babbles between words, because he doesn't know what to put there. He doesn't understand anything abstract, like "who, when, why, how," "think," "tomorrow" I'm not sure about... I think the communication problem impedes on his learning in every other category. But they say all of this is normal. But every other kid I run into that's a year younger than him seems to have a better understanding of language.

but I guess he still falls into the acceptable range............................................................... sigh.

he tested well with spatial tasks and puzzles. They said that the degree of difference between that and the verbal was larger than they usually see. They said it might indicate he performs part-to-whole tasks better than whole-to-part. I don't really understand that. I think it means he is behind, verbally. That's the most parsimonious answer, anyway.

All the professionals stared at me so gravely, when I continued to voice my fears. Like I really didn't know what I was talking about.

As for the fine motor skills tutor, I'll take whatever I can get. I thought his fine motor skills were great, but I guess they've been shaky since he can't decide whether he's right- or left-handed.

Jack is a smart kid... I can see it in his eyes. I hate the thought that it could be clouded over, when there's something I can do to fix it.

Also, they agreed that he seemed to have behavioral/emotional difficulties, something I'd expressed concern about, and they feel like this has a lot to do with the mild delays. He is very willful and, half the time, can be resistant to being taught. They gave me a number to call for parenting classes. I suppose the idea is that they teach me how to use behavioral therapy/advanced parenting techniques on him. I do feel like this is the biggest problem. If Jack will cooperate 100% of the time... okay, 90% of the time, he will start learning so, so quickly. Hopefully parenting classes are the ticket. I wish there were some more intensive therapy available, but knowing children, it probably wouldn't work as well. They gave me a quick list of things that should help, which I already do to the max, like encouraging positive behavior by praising and rewarding. It's good to know I'm doing the right thing, but not good that Jack is in the "advanced fixes" realm.

He's had very heightened emotions, lately, and has been a reeeeeeeeeeeal asshole, here and there, throughout the day. This has been going on for 3 weeks or so. I have a headache, right now, just from dealing with it. I do everything I can to lay down the proverbial law, but he's not daunted by anything. Most kids receive discipline and stop. Jack gets louder and kicks more. I can't make him stand in time out. I can't make him do anything. It's like he's a teenager. He listens to his father, all the time. It's me, his stepmom, and my mother that have problems with him. He's been reacting really negatively to my mother for the last few months, and she has always been very sweet to him. He basically seems to have a "smite weakness" thing going on. Neither I nor melodie are weak, but my mom is. We're just women. And his father has a manly, commanding voice. He's terrified of his father and hates going to his house... but his father is a fun guy who never lays a hand on him. I have always witnessed him being very loving to Jack. I think he just doesn't want to be there because he doesn't get as much attention, with his little brother around, but I feel bad for his father.
It's really taxing, because I'm dragged through his emotional changes. I go from thinking he's the sweetest, kindest, most adorable thing in the world to, "oh my god, how can he be so evillllll." One moment, today, I offer him some assistance in opening a toy, and he says, "Oh, no. But thank you for helping :) " The next, he's having a fit because I tell him that something is called something other than what he thinks it's called. WTF? Sometimes, I'm like, "Yeah, whatever you think it's called, Jack. Sure." But, every once in awhile, I think, "No, fuck it. He has to learn to deal with things as minor as this, and I'll continue to tell him he's incorrect. That I love him, and he's very smart, but it's called a ______." That always proves to be a huge mistake. He's hypersensitive and reacts to feelings of inadequacy or lack of power with anger. That much I understand. Other than telling him I love him and how well he's doing, all the time, I don't know what to do...

Agh, kids, man. What is going on in their strange little minds?

mack & freddy

2008-03-11T07:13:02Z

Two of my best-illuminated memories of locations are, actually, diners. Maybe it's because they were so well-lit. Perhaps also because I had such good vision when I was 7 years old. Or because I went so many times. When you're a child, being in a diner is like visiting another planet. Well, when you're a child, pretty much every time you get into the smoky backseat of your parents' car, you're embarking on an interstellar journey. The Northway Diner, in New Rochelle, NY was my favorite diner, but I didn't go there too much. It was the one near my mom's apartment, and we didn't go out to eat often. But we would always sit by the window and rarely ever went down the aisle with the bar. I liked to play Whitney Houston songs and that song, "Rush, Rush," on the table jukebox. There was a trivia arcade game in the lobby that I liked to play. I was pretty good at it, even though I didn't know the answers. I was just lucky. They had mint toothpicks. I remember one time that I went there by myself and ordered a strawberry milkshake. I was surprised at how quickly it disappeared in that tapered glass. How I got there and got the money is a mystery...

I thought it was fun to stand kind of where I wasn't supposed to stand and take up a lot of space, while absently meandering or twirling against a wall... and the men and ladies would look at me the perplexed way that men and ladies sometimes look at children that are doing something out-of-place. "What is she doing? Where is her mother?"

But the diner that stands out most is the Eastway Diner, in Yonkers, otherwise known to us kids as, "Mack and Freddy's." Mack and Fredericka... I don't know whether they owned the place or were just waiters. I think they were married. They were our favorite strangers, and we were their favorite kids. It's funny... I probably haven't seen either of their faces in 15 years, and I'm sure I could draw them, right now, if I wanted to. Sometimes, I want to go back, incognito, and see if they're still milling around in there. I'm afraid they'd ask about my sister. If they did, I would have to lie to them, so as not to be a harbinger of disappointment. So I will just go and watch, someday, through a window, or behind really large sunglasses.

It smelled in there like any nice New York diner. Like air-conditioned sweet cream, coffee, and wine. and cigarettes. I can see myself walking in the door, up the ramp from the parking lot. The walls in the foyer are tan cobblestone, for lack of a better description. Part of the wall is mirror-paneled, and the mirror converges at the corner so that my movements appear inverted. My father plays The Claw game and wins a stuffed animal, every time. If nothing else, he is a master of physics. It's so easy for him. What does he perceive that I don't? Looking back, 3 feet between our eye levels may have had something to do with it... but I think I've failed at every Claw attempt I've ever made. I remember walking on the long booth by the coat rack, with my 3-year-old sister. The first fake tree I really paid attention to -- had that curly, fake twine, in the place of soil. The desserts were in front, behind cold glass. I see chocolate mousse and strawberry shavings. Humongous cookies on the left-hand side. Then came the counter with the after-dinner mints, then came the hypnotic tank of rubber-banded lobsters. My sister always ordered chicken noodle soup. I almost always had roast beef, which I learned to cut properly, there. We always sat in the same booth, unless it was taken, and the booths were separated by thick glass windows with a smoked design of a sailboat.

And I remember the bathroom. It was very modern, with brushed metal stall doors and tan/black granite counter-tops. I would use the first stall, which had an imperfection on the wall that reminded me of something... I think a flower or a woman's head. And I remember, especially, because I was alone -- if I would open the door at the same time that a lady would be coming in, she'd apologetically smile and step to the side -- she'd laugh and look me in the eyes. As if we were peers, for a moment. Peers in awkward excuse-me's.

It makes me wonder whether that's how I make children feel, now, when I'm alone with them, for brief moments. Like adults? I don't really feel comfortable, face-to-face with cognizant children. What do I say? Do I try to act like a child or like an adult? Some mixture? I wish I could just ignore them. I kind of felt the same way when I was 7, though.

So many memories are bright, hard, cool, contradictions to the impermanence of the universe. Every strawberry, napkin, leaf, atom on every person's body in a memory that old has become part of the dirt. But it really doesn't seem to matter up here *taps*
If only I could use this to capture something emotionally meaningful, forever.

Bookmarked pages.

2008-02-25T20:20:24Z

There are certain kinds of zen moments... like sex... or closing my eyes in deep conversation, mechanically performing a job, or during eating... a quick flash of movement... or just certain stimuli, like a few notes of music, a few words... or imperceptible changes... I don't even know what they are. But environments from my childhood slip into my screen, like a slow slideshow, spaced out over days and months. With no warning, I'll be on the threshold of the living room after my 6th birthday party. In the middle room by the bookshelf, in Korreena's house, staring at the slate mosaic floor pattern. In Dr. Plucheck's house, after his daughter gave me a bracelet made of glazed shavings of mussel shells, when I was 5. My first pair of dress-up high heels, gold, given to me on the way out the door. Staring at Oreo's on top of the fridge when I was 3 or 4. The cat ran between the rooms. The cat is faster than I am. My father's old apartment, when I was 5; picture of a rose on the wall, nintendo games, smells like smoke, old yellow couch, Linda's jewelry. The alley between the houses on Treno Street. Walking up toward the cemetery on Memorial Day, 1999. Standing on a cement wall in the playground on the left side of the school in 4th grade. The hall, in high school. On the train alone, at 16. On a roof in Brooklyn. But mostly the places in between, in transit, in a shadow, or less travelled-by. Not momentous occasions. Just noted moments in the random harmony of life. Photographs from my inner album. But why would my brain do this? Why does is want to? What is it doing?

agent_smart @ 2008-02-18T21:16:00

2008-02-19T05:16:27Z

but, anyway, let me reiterate that the new computer is fuckin rad; so fast that the page loads before the mouse clicks back. That I finished applying for financial aid for next fall, and it feels great to have that broken wisdom tooth out. my boyfriend is also the bomb.
so are my friends, like Audrey, who was very loving and supportive to me, yesterday.

paranoid android?

2008-02-16T00:44:20Z

The biggest thing about Virginia Beach -- no privacy. anymore. When I was younger, there were a couple of woodsy growths or secluded lots I could visit, if I wanted to cleanse my mind, but they've all been turned into something else. There's nowhere, at all, that you can go, where you can be sure no one can see you. With no sanctuary, I feel myself turning into another generic pedestrian searching for a destination, with some alibi for where I should be going. Then I forget my original desire. I start dressing as if I'm being watched. don't have anything to wear if I want to sit on the ground. Don't have anywhere to go, except to see a friend. You know, I don't have anywhere to go, to Be. Has City Council ever given this a thought? Or the men at work, carrying out their will? the people buying the condos? I'm sure they haven't, but they're all suffering. I mean, goddamn, a body needs a big rock, at the very least, to hide behind. '
I like going out, alone, and sitting down, and thinking that this is My Spot. No one knows I'm here, except for The Spot, itself. No one has ever paid attention to this place, no one knows it exists, you hear me?! Muahaha, I think, they are all fools for not discovering it first. This is my special place. Where I can talk to the environment, the only real authority, and it can feel me. Do you ever get the feeling it knows you're present?
And then I think, This is what they want. To wash my mind out, to get rid of the annoying unpredictability, to cut spy labor costs, to mock me with their jets. Their big, proud machines, projects, landscaping, change, and the complacency of the population, who, in turn, highway hypnotize with their family cars. and their husbands. and their husband's jobs. and their drone-like expressions. And to that, I say --
I decide what to do about it, later.

agent_smart @ 2008-02-08T00:31:00

2008-02-08T05:38:49Z

The event in the last entry spurred a funny story from my mom. When I was about Jack's age, I drew a picture and handed it to my mom's boyfriend, Bobby. It was a simple drawing; an oval, some eyes, some lines for the hair. He asked, Brittany, what's this?
And little Brittany cooly replied, "It's yoah muddah."

(may I remind you I was raised in New York)

So he took another look at it and was amazed to find... it looked exactly like his mother! At that point, he burst into hysterics and would ask me, every 20 minutes or so, who the picture was of,

so that I would tell him... "It's yoah muddah."

agent_smart @ 2008-02-07T16:05:00

2008-02-07T21:08:39Z

Last night, I was babysitting for Angela, and Jack was playing with the kids. He gets this mini-magnadoodle thing and sketches a few lines and says, "Look, Mommy, it's a fish!" I'm like, yeahhh, I guess I can kind of see it. So he takes it back and sketches a bit more on it, and hands it to me. "See? It's a fish!"

Happy anniversary, me.

2008-02-05T20:13:12Z

Today is mine and mike's technical anniversary, although we're having our celebratory one on Sunday. Maybe we'll pop open a bottle of.... soda and toast to our triumph. We're measuring said annivesary counting from our first date (it would be too difficult to measure from anywhere else). It was a good first date. I haven't had many dates, if any, other than that, but if I had, I still imagine it would be up there with the best. I think he had me when he made me an origami t-shirt with a dollar bill. I spent that dollar bill, but I avoided it for like a week. I liked how... tiny and fine his thought processes seemed to be. Soft, simplified, logical, playful, confident, concrete, secure. Sometimes, when he talks, somewhere in my subconscious, I can see him softly, adeptly handling tiny, tiny objects. He'll probably think I'm really weird when or if he reads this. He'll want me to explain myself, and I won't do an adequate job of justifying these interpretations, and he will laugh and give me this sidelong glance like I'm batshit loopy, then comfort me and pat me on the back and suggest we get up and go play video games, or something. And then I'll laugh, because he's so... practical. But I don't say so, because he doesn't seem to like it when I find his personality funny. But I like it a lot.

anyway, yeah, it's our anniversary. listen to me being all flowery and stuff.

agent_smart @ 2008-01-24T20:43:00

2008-01-25T01:48:11Z

it turns out that, after I spent all this money and energy and exhausted my friends' kindnesses to move to Virginia Beach, to spend more time with Jack... Marko and Melodie are moving to Norfolk. Ghent, in fact. in one month. yeah..... well, I'm not going to get mad, because, ultimately, it works out better for me. I planned to go back to school in August, and this wipes away my worries about not seeing Jack enough and having to work out a painful school schedule. They found a 3 bedroom apartment that's old, like mine was, but someone actually took care of it, and there's no lead paint. I'll be staying here at least until May, but the rent would come out to be 375 a person, if I moved in upstairs from them, with two others. Not that that's extremely likely to happen, but boy, would it be awesome. The apartment is huge, too.
I totally feel they should reimburse me for the U-Haul, though.

I got my Perkins loan out of default and deferred it, today. wooo.

petite post

2008-01-21T01:57:23Z

I've mostly only posted pictures, for the last few months, and I hate it when people do that. Lauren and I were talking, yesterday, about the necessity of writing something, anything, every once in awhile, just to leave a mark. no matter how simple. I used to expound on every little detail of every little moment... but that comes in the package of a life filled with angst. Who is Brittany without angst? Well, I'm sure it's not entirely possible, but I've learned how to make my experiences much less selfish. From one perspective, it may seem shallow, but from another, it's healthy and aware. It's necessary. I guess I decided to self-administer what everybody else is taking. And I know, someday I'll be back to my normal... but when I have fewer responsibilities. Maybe in a decade or decade-and-a-half. So let me write about what things are going on, for me.

I've got this job as a receptionist at a tax office, in Virginia Beach. My boss calls me a secretary, but I find the term a little too sexy. I'm learning a lot about the law, history, taxes, obviously, wills, loans, the economy, and other such things. My boss (Kerry) is an extremely knowledgeable guy who runs a few businesses (he's a tax preparer, reverend, notary, astrologist, and a doctor of something or other). He's also quite a windbag and leans to the right in the Libertarian realm, and I certainly don't agree with everything he says. He has a book by Ann Coulter on the shelf. Haven't brought it up. And he tends to be critical and patronize me, from time to time. But I just smile and nod and say, "okay," and, every day, he is more warm and friendly and seems to appreciate me, more. Sometimes, he gets extremely angry about clients missing their appointments and not calling, and he throws papers and stomps his feet and whines like a big toddler. I spent yesterday filling out basic information on corporate tax returns in this big conference room on a marble table, by myself. And I do say... I like it.

The original plan was for me to move in with a friend of my mom's, but said friend is evidently very bi-polar, and she also wasn't able to get all her furniture out of the room I was going to rent, in time, so now I'm staying at my mom's house. She has this crazy roommate, Christine... oh, Christine, I could go on and on and on... everybody in the apartment wanted her to leave, so my not-being-able-to move in with Judith (mom's friend) was a blessing in disguise. A family member moving in is one of the only legal reasons to spontaneously give a tenant 30 days notice. I'll have to write about Christine's crazy antics, next time.

My goal, this half of the year, is to learn how to drive, pay my debt to the college, and enroll for next fall. My life will be flipped in the other direction, once again, but I'll be finishing school, which I have to do. I wasn't able to, before, but I think I'm ready, now. I mean, I definitely had it in me, from the beginning. It was just having a child that so complicated everything. And I felt so overwhelmed, at a certain point, and my mind's young pleasure centers just couldn't be soothed, and I couldn't be happy and still have enough time to do homework. I couldn't go to bed on time. I couldn't handle all the scheduling, the jobs, the assignments, the money... but I feel that I'm different, and I'm going to just jump in, again. I'll, at least, get my bachelor's, right now, and I hear that there actually are some good job opportunities for people with only that.

On another topic, I just got over laryngitis (first-timer). At first, it was kind of neat being all disabled and having to whisper. But by the second day, I was over it. Mike and I went out to Williamsburg to look at a time-share, so we could collect a prize of up to 3 free vacations, and the merciless sales associate engaged me in constant conversation, despite the fact that I could only whisper... which, by the way, is supposed to be worse for your vocal chords than talking. By the end of the night, I was actually jealous of other human beings for being able to speak. It's just another one of those things that you take for granted until you're overcome with some kind of yucky disease or gash, or whatever. I'm glad to have it back, but I still can't rock out on the Rock Band microphone. It'll probably take another week or so before it's all conditioned and stuff in there.

okay, I have stuff to do.

Jammin out with laryngitis

2008-01-20T06:19:44Z

I absolutely could not talk, at all, at the Dolls' show. Luckily, Mike had given me a very useful birthday gift.

The most frustrating thing about not having a voice was not being able to sing the guitar solo in their cover of, "Say it Ain't So," a la "weerneerneerneerneerneerneeeeeeeeeeer weeedeeedledeedeee.... bum bum wah wah bum bum wah wah, say it ain't sooowhoawhoa...."

Wow.

2008-01-12T20:25:06Z

The lead singer of Muse looks (almost) JUST LIKE Marko. Melodie concurs. Jack thinks these are pictures of Marko. Am I right?

Matt Bellamy:

Marko (don't have many pictures, but these will have to do):

agent_smart @ 2008-01-04T23:11:00

2008-01-05T04:12:12Z

Oh, and here are a few more pictures from the Pretty Balanced shindig. My piece o'crap mouse isn't working, so excuse the out-of-orderness and occasional sidewaysness.

The group one:

Hopefully, this picture stops being sideways. I don't know what's up with that.

Heather and Mike came back with us after the show :D How did they get home, by the way? I don't remember seeing them in the morning...

Judith and Noe battle at Singstar. I wonder who won that match...

True to my word,

2007-12-26T02:21:57Z

The night before the show, we all got together and drove out to the skating rink at the MacArthur mall. There's no fun like treading on a perilously slippery surface having only a thin blade support you.

especially when you get to watch other people fall down, but I wasn't lucky enough to catch a shot of that.

It's Heather!

And Lupa!

And Brittany with no-hands!!

I wasn't able to upload any more than that, but you can imagine the photos of Tim and of Noe lying flat on the ice.

So, on with show --

When Judith took an intermission, Forest did some live solo electronica entirely with a laptop and his mouth. Pretty awesome. I got a short video of it that I'll post, eventually.

Flatteringly, Santa showed. He didn't pay the door money, but I figured I'd let it slide based upon him being Santa and stuff.

And there may be a large group photo and a couple more photos of the party to come, when I get my hands on some functional photo equipment. Cheers!

agent_smart @ 2007-12-24T20:10:00

2007-12-25T01:14:21Z

The only bad thing about the whole experience is that someone broke Jack's wicker toy basket, sitting on it. I just realized that one of the legs fell off. I really liked that thing and have had it for years, and it doesn't look like something could stand the weight of a human body, so, you know...

agent_smart @ 2007-12-24T19:03:00

2007-12-25T00:30:59Z

Yay, livejournal, life is being good! Quick notes:

Thank you, everybody who came out here to visit. I had such a great time, and I laughed to the point of pain. I extend 500x extra thanks to the people who drove for hours/got stuck in traffic/crammed this little bit of love in so tightly squished against Christmas. You are so great, and I love you! Y'all come back, now <3

The Pretty Balanced show was a success -- I admit, I was fearful, because the roll call was small, and I braved this freezing wind storm to put out fliers, and there was NO WHERE to stick, pin, or staple anything. It was all bricks and saplings. I put out one flier in Pembroke and one at Elliot's Fairgrounds and one at the Naro, which are all in the next city. Making matters more frightening, when I called the bar, the night of the show, the waitress told me that the senile old owner I had made the plans with had completely forgotten me coming in to confirm anything, and I thought I might have to move the whole thing to my apartment, and then, when we got that sorted out and got to the bar, the people working there were all crotchety and not psyched.

But everyone loved the show; even the crotchety old people! One offered his house for everyone to stay in, and another called Judith a... flower... and even my mom bought a c.d.

And it turned out that my flyering was not for naught, because a couple who had happened to pick up the Dark Cabaret compilation awhile back and liked the song Simon's Sleeping so much that they became fans, saw the flier in Fairgrounds, they were like, "Dude! Pretty Balanced, we know them!" So they came and sat in the front and really enjoyed themselves.

So yeah, there will pictures to come, soon, of this weekend, including the show.

------------------------------------------

Also, check this out. I won the first quarterly SMILE award at work! And I didn't even know there was one. See? I told you that I provide excellent customer service. Ah, it just feels so good to be appreciated. really. small triumphs. So, I got a smiley face pin and a $10 gift card.
Indeed, wise men will tell you that the greatest honor is to serve others, even in the smallest ways. I'm sick to death of it, and I'm quitting in two weeks. But I have mastered it. I have been recognized. I have been given a smiley face.

Well, I better go tackle Christmas.

agent_smart @ 2007-12-21T19:44:00

2007-12-22T00:46:16Z

I have a fucking insane toothache. Ibuprofin isn't cutting it. Someone heeelllllp meeeeeeeeee. Also, I'm kind of lonely. This is my first Friday alone in a long time. *weeps*

agent_smart @ 2007-12-21T18:37:00

2007-12-22T00:08:37Z

So! The Christmas get-together is tomorrow, so you few people who decided to bite, this year (pretty much my close friends), let me know if you want to exchange gifts. No one responded on the forum *accusational glance*, so tell me if you have time to buy a generic gift, or if you'd like me to assign you to someone else.

I think we've got

Me
Audrey
Tim
Lupa
Amanda
Heather

and I invited Noe, but I have no idea whether he'll be coming. Aaaand that's about it, since I just found out Lynne and Cee aren't coming, and I don't have Lynne's number, anymore, and Lynne, you have to give me your number.

The Pines

2007-12-01T04:33:00Z

I finally figured out how to upload a large file to youtube, so, very much after-the-fact, here's a little video of a somewhat tired, limp-haired Me showing off our cabin (quite boringly, much like an old lady displaying an apartment to prospective tenants, I might add), at the end of our vacation. To the Blue Ridge Mountains. In July. Us is Mike and I. Basically, the point of watching it would be to congratulate me for getting to go, or to hear my voice if you've never met me in person. Or perhaps to see a lot of me, from behind, if you're into that sort of thing. Again, it's not a very exciting movie. You have been warned.

p.s. condensing it seems to have made the quality really crappy, and the volume really low. enjoy!

To a Christmas Tree, by Jack

2007-11-29T03:01:07Z

See? Light's coming out. See, fire's coming out.
It's dreaming. It's dreaming light.

He fought me the whole time I put it up (it's the fake kind, so it took about an hour and a half to piece it together)... and I really got it for him. I haven't had a Christmas tree of my own, so far, but it's really not the Christmas season, for a young child, unless you have a tree. But after I got it up and we put on the lights and ornaments, he said that ^. So it was worth it.

agent_smart @ 2007-11-09T12:45:00

2007-11-09T17:45:38Z

Jack was jumping on the bed, and he goes, "Ta-DA!!!"
I grab him and say, "You're so great! You're awesome!"
"Awesome!" He says. "You're booful."
"Aw, you're the best and so smart!"
"Mommy's booful."
"Come 'ere, give me a hug and kiss."
"So happy a see you."
"I'm happy to see you, too."
"I eat vegetables."

Other highlights are listening to him say the alphabet (he's almost got the whole thing, save phrases like, "nonononopee. Q R S T..."

and watching spin in circles grabbing his backside, trying to look at him own butt. heheheheheh.

I just got banned from Conservativesforum.com

2007-10-26T18:33:28Z

One post. Ten minutes. You can't touch this.

http://www.conservativesforum.com/cgi-bin/conservative/YaBB.pl?num=1193278246

agent_smart @ 2007-10-17T00:25:00

2007-10-17T04:36:32Z

This morning, I dreamt that I met a blind guy, about my age, who had the learned ability to get through life without his sight. He remembered exactly where he put everything down, knew how to look me in the eye, and somehow, managed to drive a car.

When we were driving through a sunny neighborhood, I said something silly about ferrets, and looked up to see a cherry blossom tree with white ferrets lying all over the branches. And then small elephants weighing down a few boughs, and birds of paradise flying through the backyards. Baby tigers crawling across the petals on the ground, then bright green scaley things and a rush of fur. They had all escaped from the zoo, and a few parents were bringing their children to see the animals. I carefully reached for a crocodile's mouth and touched one of its teeth. But I thought better of petting the giant panda, which the blind man told me could bite. He seemed to give good advice.

porch-guy court update

2007-10-17T04:25:51Z

This morning, I woke up at 8 o'clock and got dressed for court. I decided to walk there, based on the fact that my legs are more reliable than the bus, and also less expensive. It was a little farther than I thought, and about a mile and a half in, I started to panic. Fuck, I don't know where to go from here. Fuck, I'm not going to get there. But a stroke of luck led me to a number in the memory of my cell phone by which I contacted the very lady that's supposed to help people in situations like these.

I got there at just the time I was subpoenaed to come, but the attorney never showed up. It turns out she was home sick, one of the police officers had a death in the family, and, for some unknown reason, she had told the only witness not to come. The officers told me that the case would probably be continued, but I'd have to wait in the court room for the judge to verify that.

So I sat and I sat, and I listened to the other cases and, half-sad, watched all the glaring evidence that social change needs to come about. The defendants filed in and out, black male, black male, black male, black male, hispanic male, white female, black male, black male, black male, black male, black male. "The defendant brandished a loaded gun." "The defendant threatened..." "The defendant pulled out a gun." They all wore messy, long t-shirts and gigantic hoodies. No one dressed for court. Sometimes, I would imagine the inmates as successful young men dressed in business suits. The images came so easily, but reality refused to be altered.

The one white woman was 50. She had a severe, short haircut, and when she talked, she jerked her face to the side, every once in awhile, like an angry canine. She brought her brother-in-law to defend her. She turned down the offer of a real attorney 3 times. "I'm 50 years old, and I've this, and I've that, and I don't need no..." But the judge persisted. "Ma'am, most people, when facing a felony charge that could put them in a penitentiary, would opt for a lawyer. Now, I'll ask you one more time. do you want us to appoint an attorney for you?" Finally, she gave in and said yes. The make-shift lawyer gave a defeated shrug, as he walked away.

Every once in awhile, the door that led to the hallway where the inmates were kept would open, and one of them would scream something to the effect of, "Motha fuck shit goddamn! nuh-uh, that ain't RIGHT, mothafucka!"
And we'd all look at each other and think, "Yeah, that's why you're in there... and we're out here." They were all dressed in old-fashioned striped suits. Some with handcuffs.

After about 2 hours, my name was called, and Bernard Antonio Ross, the defendant... the Porch Guy was standing right beside me. Wow. Mysterious porch villain was caught like a bug in a jar and at my mercy. And it was a little awkward.

The case was continued for November 7th. And just as well... I talked to the sergeant who had helped apprehend the man, after we left the court room and let him know that the girl two doors down from me called the police just a week or so before about a man of the same description masturbating on the fire escape. It's kind of strange that the police didn't realize this, or that I, myself, had called them about a lurker a few weeks before. I guess their technology isn't as advanced as it should be. anyway, if my neighbor I.D.'s him, he's in a lot more trouble.

Attempt burglary is what he's charged with, which is a felony charge, but his thought processes can't be proved, as is, even considering that he knew I was awake and not-dressed in my room, and jack was sleeping on the couch. Even though the police know what his intentions are. But if he's I.D.'d as the fire escape guy, it proves that his intentions were sexual, and he was advancing in the crime.
The sergeant also gave me information on the penalties for the convictions he could end up with. Minimum 3 years, max 20, depending on what can be proven. And then, he recounted the exciting story of capturing the burglar. He was a very nice guy. A hero, in fact. I'm going to send him a Christmas card.
"I don't know how you do it, endangering your life practically every day."
"In one ear and out the other. I don't even think about it. Because, if you thought about it, you wouldn't do it."

agent_smart @ 2007-10-10T01:23:00

2007-10-10T05:28:02Z

I'm having a cider and listening to my music, just posted substantial stuff on the shadowbox and am staying up late. Brought up Trillian and watched my buddy list expand. Wow. Look at all the friendsss. I could talk to everyone right now. And enjoy it.

This is scary. There's no time for this kind of thing. I always have a sense that I'll wait for the appropriate time, but no time is good. no time. Gotta stay away. I'm going to take a shower and go to sleep.