The Terrible Twos Strike


When they talk about terrible twos, they aren't exaggerating. Emmy was always a pretty good kid, but recently it's gotten ridiculous.

If she leaves the room for more than a few seconds, she has found something to make a mess with. She could have found a Sharpie somewhere -- even though I thought I put them all out of reach -- and started drawing all over the table with it. Or maybe someone forgot to close the lock on the fridge and she is rubbing cream cheese all over her legs. Even when she does things that she is supposed to, like sit down and go on her potty, before you realize she is done she has taken the bowl out and dumped her poop all over the floor.

Time-out isn't working, she is perfectly fine with getting put there. The second she gets put in the seat she completely understands that what she did was wrong. She's sorry. She won't do it again. That was naughty.

Sometimes I feel like destroying one of her toys right in front of her whenever she does something that she knows she shouldn't have done. But then, it is the best feeling in the world when she runs to greet me as I walk in the door after work.

When she had finally fallen asleep the other day, I gave Zoe a hug and kiss. "We'll get through this, and we'll find it hilarious. And then we'll do it several more times."

Because despite all the tough days, there are plenty more good memories. Like that picture up there from when I took her out to give the horses water with me last night. Apparently baby cows look like sheep, so she kept saying "Baaa" over and over. The last week or two has been the hardest thing I've had to experience as a parent, but I would never have it any other way. And when it is finally over, the day that she broke a whole carton of eggs, rubbed cream cheese on her legs, drew on the table with Sharpie, and ate some paint (non-toxic) will be the source of laughter.

Writing on Fumes


I'm not entirely sure what I expect to get out of this habit I've formed.

I mean, I'm really only writing on a regular basis, because I've gotten in the habit of writing on a regular basis. Vast cyber pits are filling with articles I've shit out with undetermined motivation. They are being lost to the winds of time, never to be read again -- if they were ever read in the first place.

I was trying to break into the videogame journalism field, right? I recall that being my original motivation, I'm just not sure if that is even a viable option for the future. And really, what is a viable option for the future?

I guess I enjoy writing enough that it wasn't a complete waste of time, but if it is time for me to move on I certainly don't know what to move on to.

Don't mistake this for some "lighting a fire under the ass" sort of declaration. I'm in a rut. I'll tell myself over and over again that I'm an average writer in an overflowing industry, and I need to seek out a real career path; but I won't do it.

A real career path just doesn't interest me. Nothing that has ever interested me in life is the result of a college degree, which seems to be the default "normal" career path starter. Still, I could easily fill the fingers on both hands with people who are sitting on degrees that they may never actually use. And honestly, I would probably never use any degree I ever even fathomed of getting.

Sitting in a classroom trying to absorb information that I'm told is important so that I can get a piece of paper that will help me get a job that I never wanted in the first place seems asinine. But then, everything about that entire system seems asinine. I'm a better worker, and much more intelligent, than the throngs of drunken stoners I graduated with -- but they've got that piece of paper, so they can get that job that neither of us want.

So what do I do? Throw myself into the biggest load of bullshit ever so that I can get spit out the other side a soul-less man, or keep striving to achieve something that has been dying a slow death for several years? I know, it's a Sophie's Choice, but I guess I've gotta make it. Can I cut them both in half?