tragedy always strikes in 3's...

This is a sad reminder that there just isn't a right way to do a wrong thing.  And these guys have to be brothers, because there's no way 3 sets of parents all hate their son this much.



These guys performed at the same "talent" show that my daughter did.

amazing...

The best part of this I didn't get on camera.  It was right after this, when she ran off stage into the audience to tackle/hug me.

feeling it today again

I found this entry in an old journal.  The entry is from July 2 years ago.  I find myself amazed at how it mirrors the way I'm feeling today.  


I am grateful today...

For good friends.  For those whom in the past came to me to have their candles lit from my fire. And that when my candle went out, they came to my rescue and re-lit mine. 
I'm grateful for small hands that can hold a phone, and small voices that say "I love you daddy." I'm grateful for long distance smiles, and giggles that melt me no matter how many miles are between us. I'm grateful for technology that bridges the gap between their little hearts and mine.
I'm grateful for family and friends who know me, and love me anyway. For good literature, and for all the negative that reminds me of all that is positive. 
I'm grateful for girls that are completely out of my league.  I'm grateful that they don't know it.
I'm grateful for goodness, beauty, and light. For the way [she] completely embodies all three. 
I'm grateful that I can't see the shadows when I look to the sun, and how when I look to the light, I see you standing there.


To add a few more contemporary items:
I'm grateful for those strong enough to carry me when I am weak, and those who remind me of my strength when I forget.
I'm grateful for music.  I'm grateful for my guitar.  I'm grateful that my girls love when I play them music.
I'm grateful for discomfort and that it drives me to pursue better things.  I'm grateful that I know what those better things are.
I'm grateful for family and for the opportunity to remind them of that. And I'm grateful for friends who may never know just how much they've done for me. 

get to know... Cameron Rafati

I have the good pleasure of knowing this guy personally.  If you don't know his music.  Go to Cameronrafati.com, and become familiar.  He's not just a fantastic singer songwriter, but a really cool guy. AND, his song "1 in 10" is not only one of my favorite songs BY him... but one of my favorite songs by anyone.  You've also got to hear "Dirty Conversation", "Mausoleum", and "53rd Story".  (<-- amazing song)

d-bag disposal and storage...

Friday night at work, a very large individual and his friend decided for some reason (mental disfunction, boredom, machismo, overcompensation for size) that they would attack a friend and coworker of mine.  This happened almost directly in front of me.  This large individual, who clearly wasn't hugged enough as a child, got some very special attention from me.  I hugged the sh__ out of him.  Actually I "applied just enough pressure to subdue and detain him," as it now states on the police report, while my coworkers "subdued" the sh__ out of his friend.  I actually took care to NOT hurt this guy too much, and be just aggressive enough to solve the problem, but not so aggressive so as to permanently damage his pride or his limbs.  Later that night, after he and his buddy had been arrested and we had gone back to work, I found out that he (or perhaps his buddy) had hit my friend in the head with a pint glass (something that had escaped my observation during the melee).  I was so mad!  At that point I wish that I could go back and re-"subdue" that guy with a little more pressure and aggressiveness.  It was really a weird feeling, I regretted my self restraint during the incident. (I know... it isn't a mature, or noble, or good feeling. But it's there. I'm a neanderthal... I've come to terms with it)
Then, last night, I found out something that put my feelings to rest, and now I am perfectly comfortable with the outcome and the entire incident.  Here is what I discovered:
As I mentioned, those two guys were arrested after the incident on Friday night.  Apparently, they would have had to spend the weekend in jail, and not get out until Monday morning, because things close down on the weekends and that's just the way it works here in this part of the world.  Well, this weekend was Memorial Day weekend.  Which means things were shut down Monday as well.  So, at the time of this writing, Tuesday morning  June 1st, 2010, there is a large d-bag and his sidekick, still wearing the Affliction tshirts and snakeskin boots they put on to go out Friday night, just about to walk out of the San Diego County jail.
For the record, my friend who got attacked reports that his head is fine.  Therefore good guys: 1; D-bags: 0

love is...

Two things:
First. This afternoon I put the girls down for a nap, and I decided to put myself down for one as well.  When I woke up, I found that the girls had not been sleeping.  Instead, they turned nap-time into craft-time.  Next to my head on the couch, I found the following items they made for me:  A miniature crown, complete with  jewels, made from construction paper, with the words "King Daddy" written in crayon.  A necklace made from various beads and small toys.  And a tiny bouquet, made from flowers picked in the backyard and tied together with a hair-tie.
Second. Later today, their mom came to pick them up. I could actually hear my heart breaking in my now silent house, as they drove away.  Same thing that happens every time.

I have no clue... but I'll pretend I do

(I just re-read this and decided that only the last paragraph has any substance... if you choose to read only part of this... read that part)
After work last night I was wired. So instead of driving home, I walked on the beach.  It's so cliche, but as I walked I wondered about love.   Why it hurts and also lifts, why it makes us so crazy at times, how so many people are looking for it without finding it, why sometimes when we do find it that it turns out to be so fleeting at best and counterfeit at worst... But mostly, I just wondered what it is exactly.
I have to say, I didn't really come up with much... until the sun came up.  When it did, I realized that my daughters would be waking up soon.  I wanted mine to be the first face that they saw.  I thought, this is love, real, unquestionable, lasting.  Though I still have no specific verbiage to define it, I am certain of the feeling of love, what it motivates me to do, and who I feel it for.  Then I thought well DUH... but that's kind of a copout on my introspection... that's obvious and easy... I still don't know what it really is.  And what about the different type of love, and the distinction of being in love...  
My thoughts began to yield more questions than answers at this point.  Two remain:  Is the only difference between familial love and romantic love, the addition of physical attraction? And is it possible that the way we categorize love, or the way we decide to speak of it, is just another way to separate ourselves from others, a way to categorize those around us to some degree.  (ie. I like you, but I don't love you... or I love you, but I'm not in love with you)
Yesterday I had a conversation with my ex girlfriend in which she told me that she is still in love with me.  I told her some approximation of I love you, I'm just not in love with you. I once was in love with her... what is the difference between what I felt then, and what I feel now.  I decided that sometimes it's a choice.  I do still love her, but there is a healthy dose of reservation, and caution, and hesitation built in to the kind of love I have for her, based on my overriding desire not to be hurt by her.  So maybe that's it, I've just chosen this feeling for her, over another that I used to have, as a means of separation, mentally (emotionally) placing her in a category that I can keep at arms length. safe. easy. comfortable.... terribly unfulfilling.
Now I feel like I'm rambling.  My self analysis begins to annoy me. My introspection has been replaced by psycho-babel... as I read what I have written I feel like a pseudo-intellectual trying out my powers of self examination for the first time and taking some brand new big words for a test drive.  I have overcomplicated something that often lends itself to oversimplification. I do feel, however, that I have some answers that work for me.
It's easy to know about things that we have, and difficult to know about things we don't.  What I have, what is easy to know, is my love for my daughters.  What I don't have, what is hard for me to know, is "romantic" love (and the longer I go without it, the more I question what I thought I knew about it).
In spite of that, here is what I think (intentional word choice) love is:
Love is the feeling that makes me get up and go to work when I don't want to, and the feeling that makes me race home afterwords so that I don't miss anymore time with her.  Love is the feeling that makes me seek her approval, keeps me trying to impress her, and sends chills up my spine when she smiles her approval.  Love is that feeling that makes me forget big words or how to use them when I look at her.  Love is the feeling that no matter how long we are together, no matter how much we say to each other, there will always be more to know, and love is the desire to know all of it.  Love is the feeling that nothing in the world matters more than the next words out of her mouth, and nothing is more desirous than the next kiss from her.  Love is the feeling that goes up my spine when her foot accidentally grazes my calf as we sleep next to each other, or when her hand finds mine in the dark.   Love is waking in the night, remembering who is in bed with me, and hating the two feet of separation between us.  Love is the feeling that we can have fun doing anything or nothing together.  It's the feeling that I would sacrifice almost anything for one more touch, one more chance to do anything... or nothing with her.

... i think.

little cheeks

Sometimes Drea farts when I tickle her. Like today. Sometimes Drea's farts stink. Like today. I've decided not to tickle Drea anymore today.

little arms do a lot

I got home from work at 4:35am. I snuck into my girls room to kiss them on the head and check if their blankets were doing their jobs, as I always do. I kissed Drea, and whispered my love to her, and she barely stirred. Then I kissed Kira on her head. I whispered, as I always do, "Kira, you are my princess, and I love you more than all the world." Her arms shot out of the dark to wrap around my neck before I pulled my head away, and she said, "Daddy, if I'm your princess, then you are a king. I love you daddy." I couldn't do much but try not to let my heart explode, there in the dark, with my 5 year old's little arms locked around my neck. After a moment, her grip loosened, and her arms became limp (though still around my neck) as she fell back to sleep. I held there, not wanting the moment to end, until her breathing became that regular and deep breathing any parent will recognize when their kid is really asleep. As I slowly pulled away, I couldn't do anything but drop to my knees, and thank God for that little moment, and that little voice, and those little arms, and that giant heart.

butterfly effect

Something about a butterfly flapping it's wings and creating a tidal wave across the ocean... Well, in CA, traffic can be jacked beyond belief by something similar. Today, a butterfly must have farted in Barstow, because traffic was completely f'd across southern cal. Actually a tanker truck turned over and caught fire, and messed up my trip to go pick up my girls. Ok, pull up google maps everyone... check this out. From my place in Oceanside, it takes about 55 minutes to get to Yorba Linda to pick up my girls, then another 55 to get back (usually). Today, instead of the round trip being somewhere in the 2 hour range, I spent 6.5 hours in traffic. Now, here's the weird part: that tanker truck fire was in RIVERSIDE. Yup. It doesn't take Magellan or Nasa reading the maps to realize that an accident in Riverside, creating a nightmare for traffic near the coast is ridiculous. The good news... I got my littles here, safe, sound, and cute as ever. The bad news is I think I aged 4 years in that 6.5 hours on the road.