Dear Diary,
My Caretakers seem to have lost their minds. Again.
I started noticing some time back that they would ask me the same questions, over and over. I would be letting them know that my diaper needed changing, and they would say, "Baby hungry? Are you hungry? Do you need to eat? Is the baby hungry? Hungry?"
Alright, first of all, no, I'm not hungry, I'm dirty! Pay attention. Secondly, I heard you the first time! Asking me a dozen different ways doesn't change the answer!
This has gone on for some time. They seem totally unable to grasp the concept that repeating the same thing to me ten ways doesn't change reality. If I don't want the elephant toy, I don't want it! That's why I keep throwing it to the side, you know?
Recently a new madness has unveiled itself. They have started making odd hand gestures with many of the words they say. I have noticed repetition here. Perhaps they have decided that verbal communication with me is something beyond their ability, and are trying a new form? Not sure yet. I will attempt repeating some of these silly motions back to them, and see what happens.
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Baby Journal: Day 45
Dear Diary,
The Ceiling Fan continues to perplex me. It moves, and yet never moves! I can stare at it for hours, and it never leaves that spot on the ceiling. And yet, the blades never stop spinning! I want to look away, but they are just so mesmerizing, I cannot.
And then at other times, it is completely still. No matter how much I stare, it does nothing! It seems to function completely randomly.
I hope further study will reveal its secrets.
The Ceiling Fan continues to perplex me. It moves, and yet never moves! I can stare at it for hours, and it never leaves that spot on the ceiling. And yet, the blades never stop spinning! I want to look away, but they are just so mesmerizing, I cannot.
And then at other times, it is completely still. No matter how much I stare, it does nothing! It seems to function completely randomly.
I hope further study will reveal its secrets.
Monday, November 11, 2013
Baby Journal: Day 31
Dear Diary,
I am a month old! Hard to believe it's been that long already. Quite an exciting milestone.
To celebrate, my Caretakers finally brought me out of the house, and I made quite the amazing discovery. Whereas when they take me out of one room to another in the house, and I can still see the walls, outside the house I cannot see the walls! It's almost as if there are no walls!
In the same way, I cannot see the ceiling! I love staring at the fan and the lights on the ceiling. Outside, I can see the big light up on the big blue ceiling, or what my Caretakers are calling the sky, but I cannot see what it attaches to! It's as if it is just hanging there, far out of reach.
And it is sooo big outside, that people get in cars to drive around! I wish we had those inside the house. But the Caretakers don't have a big enough house, unfortunately.
It is a wondrous place outside the house, dear diary. I can't wait to explore it more, and hope very much that my Caretakers make our outings more frequently.
I am a month old! Hard to believe it's been that long already. Quite an exciting milestone.
To celebrate, my Caretakers finally brought me out of the house, and I made quite the amazing discovery. Whereas when they take me out of one room to another in the house, and I can still see the walls, outside the house I cannot see the walls! It's almost as if there are no walls!
In the same way, I cannot see the ceiling! I love staring at the fan and the lights on the ceiling. Outside, I can see the big light up on the big blue ceiling, or what my Caretakers are calling the sky, but I cannot see what it attaches to! It's as if it is just hanging there, far out of reach.
And it is sooo big outside, that people get in cars to drive around! I wish we had those inside the house. But the Caretakers don't have a big enough house, unfortunately.
It is a wondrous place outside the house, dear diary. I can't wait to explore it more, and hope very much that my Caretakers make our outings more frequently.
Baby Journal: Day 25
Dear Diary,
Today I had the most disturbing experience. I woke up in the afternoon, apparently I had fallen asleep for a nap. My Caretakers must have moved me into the bedroom, because I found myself in the crib. I let them know I was awake, but heard no response.
That is right, dear Diary, the worst had happened: While I slept, my Caretakers had ceased to exist! As I listened to the silence, I knew it was my fault. I had failed to watch them for too long. Since I was asleep, they were not needed, and because they were not needed, they ceased to exist.
Distraught, I raised my voice in lament, crying out against the cruelty of the universe, that would take my Caretakers from me on a whim. Suddenly, they reappeared! Just like that, called back into existence by my own voice, they were gathering me up and assuring me everything was OK. It was as if for them nothing had happened. To this day they seem unaware of their temporary non-existence.
But I will not make the same mistake again. From now on, I vow to not nap, or sleep at all. I will do my best to stay awake. And I will be sure to call out to them, whenever they are out of sight, so that they will never be unneeded for too long. I know they may not understand, but it is for their own good.
Today I had the most disturbing experience. I woke up in the afternoon, apparently I had fallen asleep for a nap. My Caretakers must have moved me into the bedroom, because I found myself in the crib. I let them know I was awake, but heard no response.
That is right, dear Diary, the worst had happened: While I slept, my Caretakers had ceased to exist! As I listened to the silence, I knew it was my fault. I had failed to watch them for too long. Since I was asleep, they were not needed, and because they were not needed, they ceased to exist.
Distraught, I raised my voice in lament, crying out against the cruelty of the universe, that would take my Caretakers from me on a whim. Suddenly, they reappeared! Just like that, called back into existence by my own voice, they were gathering me up and assuring me everything was OK. It was as if for them nothing had happened. To this day they seem unaware of their temporary non-existence.
But I will not make the same mistake again. From now on, I vow to not nap, or sleep at all. I will do my best to stay awake. And I will be sure to call out to them, whenever they are out of sight, so that they will never be unneeded for too long. I know they may not understand, but it is for their own good.
Friday, November 8, 2013
Baby Journal: Day 23
Dear Diary,
I am beginning to have some serious doubts about my Caretakers. For the most part, they are still very helpful and do what I want. But there is one area in particular where they are failing miserably to pick up on a very simple concept, and I am worried it may be a sign of a bigger problem.
I'm talking about bottle feeding, of course. Thankfully, this is not a regular occurrence. That plastic device is really not my preferred way of eating, but sometimes it just has to be done. I understand this. What I do not understand is why they have such a hard time giving me the proper amount of food.
When I'm hungry, I tell them, and I let them know how hungry I am. For example, let's say I want 4.2 ounces. I tell them this. They get the bottle, they feed me, but inevitably there's not 4.2 ounces, there's only 4.1! Unacceptable! I let them know this, every time, but they always seem confused.
"What's wrong?" "Is it your diaper?" "Do you not like the food?"
No I like it, but I'm hungry! I said 4.2 ounces, not 4.1! You don't see me serving you 4/5th's of a hamburger, do you??
If they just did it every time with no reaction, I would chalk it up to sick humor or something. But their confusion each time, I wonder if I have been saddled with Caretakers who have failed their basic training courses. Hopefully this is the worst of their flaws.
I am beginning to have some serious doubts about my Caretakers. For the most part, they are still very helpful and do what I want. But there is one area in particular where they are failing miserably to pick up on a very simple concept, and I am worried it may be a sign of a bigger problem.
I'm talking about bottle feeding, of course. Thankfully, this is not a regular occurrence. That plastic device is really not my preferred way of eating, but sometimes it just has to be done. I understand this. What I do not understand is why they have such a hard time giving me the proper amount of food.
When I'm hungry, I tell them, and I let them know how hungry I am. For example, let's say I want 4.2 ounces. I tell them this. They get the bottle, they feed me, but inevitably there's not 4.2 ounces, there's only 4.1! Unacceptable! I let them know this, every time, but they always seem confused.
"What's wrong?" "Is it your diaper?" "Do you not like the food?"
No I like it, but I'm hungry! I said 4.2 ounces, not 4.1! You don't see me serving you 4/5th's of a hamburger, do you??
If they just did it every time with no reaction, I would chalk it up to sick humor or something. But their confusion each time, I wonder if I have been saddled with Caretakers who have failed their basic training courses. Hopefully this is the worst of their flaws.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Baby Journal: Day 10
Dear Diary,
I am now ten days old. I'd like to think things are going well so far. I've got a good grasp on things, and am certain that soon I will be a master of everything, just as my Caretakers are.
In general, I am happy with my Caretakers. They respond quickly to my requests, and appear to genuinely care about me. I do have some concerns, however. They seem to make light of a few of the predicaments I have already encountered in my short existence.
Take, for example, the fact that my internal combustion engine seems to set off near-lethal explosions on a regular basis. A few times these explosions, which always originate near my bottom, have even woken me from deep slumber. As you can imagine, this is quite disturbing! I fear that if I do not get these explosions under control, they may do real harm. I'm worried that my bottom may blow clear off of me.
But my Caretakers, they do not share my concerns! In fact, they even laugh when it happens! Perhaps they do not care as much as I thought, and are just hoping that my defective system will soon spell an end for me. I will have to keep an eye on them.
Wish me luck, dear diary.
I am now ten days old. I'd like to think things are going well so far. I've got a good grasp on things, and am certain that soon I will be a master of everything, just as my Caretakers are.
In general, I am happy with my Caretakers. They respond quickly to my requests, and appear to genuinely care about me. I do have some concerns, however. They seem to make light of a few of the predicaments I have already encountered in my short existence.
Take, for example, the fact that my internal combustion engine seems to set off near-lethal explosions on a regular basis. A few times these explosions, which always originate near my bottom, have even woken me from deep slumber. As you can imagine, this is quite disturbing! I fear that if I do not get these explosions under control, they may do real harm. I'm worried that my bottom may blow clear off of me.
But my Caretakers, they do not share my concerns! In fact, they even laugh when it happens! Perhaps they do not care as much as I thought, and are just hoping that my defective system will soon spell an end for me. I will have to keep an eye on them.
Wish me luck, dear diary.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Fun with Labels
"Read the Labels" seems to be a great bit of wisdom these days. It particularly pertains to food. Want to know what you're eating? Read the label. Doing a diet? Read the label. Have allergies? Read the label.
The label can also help you figure out exactly what is meant by the front of the packaging. Take Swedish Fish, for example. I love them, one of my favorite candies since ever. The bag of them that I just finished says on the front, "A Fat Free Food."
Let's think about that for minute. What does food mean, in this case? The Label, which we are generally recommend to read, tells us that it is 140 calories per serving of 19 fish. It's pretty much all sugar. In fact, it says "Not a significant source of calories from fat, saturated fat, trans fat, cholesterol, dietary fiber, vitamin A, vitamin C, calcium, and iron." I think this could also be stated as "Not a significant source of any real nutrition."
And yet they call it food. In my mind, food is something I would eat for a meal, and consider myself satisfied and at least remotely healthy when done (yes this means much of "fast food" also isn't food, by this definition. I admit it doesn't stop me from eating it, though). Thus, my beloved swedish fish is candy, not food. At least not to my mind. The Label is basically telling me that if I make a major diet out of this stuff, the results will not be beneficial to my health.
So I get a real kick that in highlight on the front it says it's a fat free food. The Label supports the fat free part at least, notice all the fats it wants to make clear are not in the "food." So I guess maybe this is a food because it has no fat? Not sure.
In any case, the stuff tastes good. Hmmm. Maybe I should tell my doctor to start a new diet fad: Swedish Fish! They are, after all, fat free food! And surely the company couldn't call them food if you shouldn't actually make them part of your dinner, right?
The label can also help you figure out exactly what is meant by the front of the packaging. Take Swedish Fish, for example. I love them, one of my favorite candies since ever. The bag of them that I just finished says on the front, "A Fat Free Food."Let's think about that for minute. What does food mean, in this case? The Label, which we are generally recommend to read, tells us that it is 140 calories per serving of 19 fish. It's pretty much all sugar. In fact, it says "Not a significant source of calories from fat, saturated fat, trans fat, cholesterol, dietary fiber, vitamin A, vitamin C, calcium, and iron." I think this could also be stated as "Not a significant source of any real nutrition."
And yet they call it food. In my mind, food is something I would eat for a meal, and consider myself satisfied and at least remotely healthy when done (yes this means much of "fast food" also isn't food, by this definition. I admit it doesn't stop me from eating it, though). Thus, my beloved swedish fish is candy, not food. At least not to my mind. The Label is basically telling me that if I make a major diet out of this stuff, the results will not be beneficial to my health.
So I get a real kick that in highlight on the front it says it's a fat free food. The Label supports the fat free part at least, notice all the fats it wants to make clear are not in the "food." So I guess maybe this is a food because it has no fat? Not sure.
In any case, the stuff tastes good. Hmmm. Maybe I should tell my doctor to start a new diet fad: Swedish Fish! They are, after all, fat free food! And surely the company couldn't call them food if you shouldn't actually make them part of your dinner, right?
Saturday, October 26, 2013
End Road Work!
As we near winter, we also near the end of construction season. Or so I thought. The ongoing construction sites, some of which have been up and running for months, suggests that perhaps the Season of Slowly Altering Roads will continue longer than I had thought. I have noticed however that there are perhaps other people frustrated with the road construction, something that has come to my awareness with the number of signs expressing a desire to "End Road Work"!
I couldn't agree more. End it! Well, maybe I'd regret that in the long term. Potholes and degraded roads do get frustrating, I'll admit. Though around here in Kentucky, it often seems that all Road Work does is turn the pot holes into pot bumps that erode quickly into pot holes once more. They've done work up and down our road for months, breaking up sidewalks. And once they've finished, the nice and shiny sidewalks get obstructed by the ongoing construction in a new and only slightly different location. I don't see much of an advantage here.
So I definitely share the sentiment to End Road Work.
What's that you say? Those rectangular orange signs are not actually political sentiments, but rather warning signs? Warning me of what exactly, that the people who are now driving slowly in front of me no longer have a valid excuse to do so? Well I guess that is a good warning, now I know they are senile and dangerous and I should just avoid them all together.
But your argument doesn't make much sense. After all, if the signs were telling me that I had come to the end of a construction zone, then logically they would appear only at the end of an active construction zone. But I see them all over the place. I'll enter an area that is arguably a construction zone. I say "arguably" because yes, there are orange signs, but there are no cones, and no trucks, and no people at work. In other words, other than randomly posted orange signs telling me things that are not true (such as "Left Lane Closed Ahead"), there is nothing to suggest that I was in a construction zone (except for the cars going 20 miles under the speed limit for no discern-able reason). And some time after all of those not very clear signs that I may have possibly been in a construction zone, suddenly I happen upon "End Road Work!"
I agree, it is most likely that those signs were placed for the purpose you suggest. However someone left them there, and I am inclined to think it was a like-minded person, who thinks Road Work should End. And the sooner the better!
After all, I have some speeding to do.
I couldn't agree more. End it! Well, maybe I'd regret that in the long term. Potholes and degraded roads do get frustrating, I'll admit. Though around here in Kentucky, it often seems that all Road Work does is turn the pot holes into pot bumps that erode quickly into pot holes once more. They've done work up and down our road for months, breaking up sidewalks. And once they've finished, the nice and shiny sidewalks get obstructed by the ongoing construction in a new and only slightly different location. I don't see much of an advantage here.
So I definitely share the sentiment to End Road Work.
What's that you say? Those rectangular orange signs are not actually political sentiments, but rather warning signs? Warning me of what exactly, that the people who are now driving slowly in front of me no longer have a valid excuse to do so? Well I guess that is a good warning, now I know they are senile and dangerous and I should just avoid them all together.
But your argument doesn't make much sense. After all, if the signs were telling me that I had come to the end of a construction zone, then logically they would appear only at the end of an active construction zone. But I see them all over the place. I'll enter an area that is arguably a construction zone. I say "arguably" because yes, there are orange signs, but there are no cones, and no trucks, and no people at work. In other words, other than randomly posted orange signs telling me things that are not true (such as "Left Lane Closed Ahead"), there is nothing to suggest that I was in a construction zone (except for the cars going 20 miles under the speed limit for no discern-able reason). And some time after all of those not very clear signs that I may have possibly been in a construction zone, suddenly I happen upon "End Road Work!"
I agree, it is most likely that those signs were placed for the purpose you suggest. However someone left them there, and I am inclined to think it was a like-minded person, who thinks Road Work should End. And the sooner the better!
After all, I have some speeding to do.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
The real tragedy
There was a shooting in our apartment complex on Sunday. And by "in our complex" I mean in a unit that shares a wall with us.
Naturally, that means there's been news people around. I wasn't here when it happened, but I was back home this morning when they were fishing for follow up stuff. I brushed them off, but as I have been thinking about it, there are some things I wish I had said. Especially to the second guy, who had a camera man with him and a microphone and I'm sure would have been up for filming anyone who wanted.
(As a side note, you can see some of the news articles at various Louisville news sites, including WHAS 11 and WLKY. If you search enough you'll see articles from the day of, and some from later on. As another side note, this highlights how much the news speculates and is willing to put forth 'witness' speculation as fact, when in fact no one knew dirt.)
They asked some general questions, wanting to know if I knew my neighbor (which I do not). The first guy asked me how I felt, if I wasn't worried or upset that something like this would happen here, since "isn't this supposed to be a nice neighborhood?" The second guy asked me, "was the guy violent?"
The news around here seems to love reporting on violence. I think every shooting makes the news, no matter what. In the couple of articles I've seen on this one, they have been hitting the angle of "we're surprised this would happen here." But I think they've got the angle all wrong. It shouldn't be a surprise that it happened here. That shouldn't be what makes this tragic and notable. It should just be tragic that it happened at all.
And what really is tragic, is that the neighborhood matters to people. It shouldn't. My response is "well these things happen," which of course is true. But I don't think it's OK that I feel that way. We shouldn't just accept that these things happen. It shouldn't phase us more that it's in one neighborhood or another. Two people got shot last night, for whatever reason, and one of them is dead. Someone, somewhere, is crying over this.
Someone has lost a brother, or a son, or a husband, or a boyfriend, or a friend, or a coworker, or a cousin, or a nephew, or a grandson.
Someone else is worried about the health and survival and "what happens now" for a brother, or a son, or a husband, or a boyfriend, or a friend, or a coworker, or a cousin, or a nephew, or a grandson.
That should be tragic. That should always be tragic. That should always upset us. We shouldn't care because it's in this neighborhood and not another, because we shouldn't expect or accept this in any neighborhood. We shouldn't care whether or not the people were prone to violence, because we shouldn't accept violence as a solution to problems. The real tragedy is that the news cares more about where it happened, then about the fact that it happened at all.
Naturally, that means there's been news people around. I wasn't here when it happened, but I was back home this morning when they were fishing for follow up stuff. I brushed them off, but as I have been thinking about it, there are some things I wish I had said. Especially to the second guy, who had a camera man with him and a microphone and I'm sure would have been up for filming anyone who wanted.
(As a side note, you can see some of the news articles at various Louisville news sites, including WHAS 11 and WLKY. If you search enough you'll see articles from the day of, and some from later on. As another side note, this highlights how much the news speculates and is willing to put forth 'witness' speculation as fact, when in fact no one knew dirt.)
They asked some general questions, wanting to know if I knew my neighbor (which I do not). The first guy asked me how I felt, if I wasn't worried or upset that something like this would happen here, since "isn't this supposed to be a nice neighborhood?" The second guy asked me, "was the guy violent?"
The news around here seems to love reporting on violence. I think every shooting makes the news, no matter what. In the couple of articles I've seen on this one, they have been hitting the angle of "we're surprised this would happen here." But I think they've got the angle all wrong. It shouldn't be a surprise that it happened here. That shouldn't be what makes this tragic and notable. It should just be tragic that it happened at all.
And what really is tragic, is that the neighborhood matters to people. It shouldn't. My response is "well these things happen," which of course is true. But I don't think it's OK that I feel that way. We shouldn't just accept that these things happen. It shouldn't phase us more that it's in one neighborhood or another. Two people got shot last night, for whatever reason, and one of them is dead. Someone, somewhere, is crying over this.
Someone has lost a brother, or a son, or a husband, or a boyfriend, or a friend, or a coworker, or a cousin, or a nephew, or a grandson.
Someone else is worried about the health and survival and "what happens now" for a brother, or a son, or a husband, or a boyfriend, or a friend, or a coworker, or a cousin, or a nephew, or a grandson.
That should be tragic. That should always be tragic. That should always upset us. We shouldn't care because it's in this neighborhood and not another, because we shouldn't expect or accept this in any neighborhood. We shouldn't care whether or not the people were prone to violence, because we shouldn't accept violence as a solution to problems. The real tragedy is that the news cares more about where it happened, then about the fact that it happened at all.
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