Sunday, March 18, 2018

Haiku Schmaiku

Something has been bothering me for three years.

When I go to work in downtown DC, I walk through an area of town known as "the Golden Triangle." Every spring the triangle people have a "Golden Haiku" poetry contest and publish the results on little placards that they jam into roadside gardens all over the area. I walk past eighty-six million of these little placards every morning and afternoon.

Now, I'm not big into poetry so we all know that this isn't my thing. We all know that I will resent being forced to read poetry on my way to work. We all know that I have some anger issues.

But it makes me Dennis from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia rageful that the word "haiku" is on those placards in three spots when the poems are not, for the love of all that it holy and just in this world, haikus.

Three lines. Five syllables. Seven syllables. Five syllables. Right?

Not according to the Golden Triangle Management Bureau.

always/one step ahead/sidewalk sparrow by Elizabeth Steinglass
I've wanted to write this post for three years, but haven't because it seems like an asshole move to put someone's poetry up on a blog and then scream at it. I actually like this poem, so I feel better screaming about the concept while still supporting the poet.

Now, in previous years I've been so agitated that I've gone to the website to look at the rules and they specifically state that the poetry doesn't have to follow that traditional haiku format. This year, probably because I'm not the only one ready to send angry letters about syllables, the website has a big quote at the top attributed to the Haiku Society of America that says: "Haiku...a short poem that uses imagistic language to convey an experience."

I'm not buying what you're selling, Haiku Society of America.

Maybe I'm overly literal. Maybe once my third grade teacher told me how many syllables are in a haiku, I shouldn't have locked on so solidly to that idea. Maybe I should just not look at the placards as I walk past them.

Or maybe I just need to finally write this post so the poison of this great injustice to my third grade soul can vent and be released.

haiku comes in threes
of five then seven then five
i feel better now

Friday, March 16, 2018

The Great Move Back

Hi! I finally moved all my posts and photos off of Wordpress and back to where they're accessible on Blogger. Now that that is done, I will be moving my URL this weekend so it points to that blog. All this means is that when you go to from now, on, it will look a little bit different.

I will also be canceling my Feedblitz subscriber service and also will not be publishing through Wordpress, so if you subscribe through either of these two ways, you should resubscribe using this link.

If you are like me and would never in a million years remember how you subscribed to a blog, I've included screenshots. If you get emails that look like either of the below pictures when a new post goes up, you will need to resubscribe. 


Also, I have a post planned for next Monday, which will be the first one solely on the new space, so check back if you subscribed but don't see it. (I don't think I have to create a new feed once I point the URL there, but I know virtually nothing about this shit, so I might have to.)

Let's see how this goes! Thanks for being a reader!

Friday, March 9, 2018

Evidence Suggests That I Don't Really Have My Shit Together

Hey, remember Dipshit Friday, when I do dumb things and then tell you about it in the hopes that if I laugh first, you all won't make fun of me? Well, it's back.


I've got a lot going on these days.

There are several big projects at work that I am heavily involved in and a liiiiiiittle bit stressed out about. It's IEP season, with two meetings for two kids within four days of each other. I have two trips coming up—one with the whole family and one involving me being in charge of 12 teenagers I (mostly) don't know in New Orleans. Scheduling everything to work together is a complete nightmare. Plus Alex just got back from a week out of town, during which time I was forced to take over his 6 am waking-up-the-kids duties. Also, have I mentioned that I have three kids that need a lot of driving around and homework coaxing and organizing and feeding OMG WHY SO MUCH FEEDING DO YOU REALLY HAVE TO EAT THAT OFTEN LIKE SERIOUSLY MORE THAN ONCE A DAMN DAY?!?!

I am my best.

I mean, I'm kicking the shit out of all of these things. I am T.C.B.—taking care of business like a goddamn boss, but it turns out that in areas of my life that are less crucial, I am faltering. Like, I am forgetting to do basic things.

I think I realized how all over the place and unfocused I was the day that I parked at the Metro station, went to work, and came back six hours later to find my car was still running.


Think on that for a minute.

I distinctly remember that morning when I got out of my car and hit the lock button on the door, as I usually do, that something was wrong. The doors didn't lock. Naturally I assumed that the door lock must just be broken, so I got out, shut the door and locked the car from the outside. Then I walked away. Based upon later experimentation, it turns out that if the car is running, the door won't lock via the open door lock, perhaps to prevent people from, you know, leaving their cars on.

The funny thing is that my car dings when the key leaves it, so it must have spent all day sort of desperately flashing the warning THE KEY HAS LEFT THE VEHICLE THE KEY HAS LEFT THE VEHICLE THE KEY HAS LEFT THE VEHICLE while dinging sadly every three seconds.

I eventually came back, of course, and was all, "Why is the car already running?" I decided that I must have accidentally hit the remote start, which I didn't AND which is actually kinda impossible to do unintentionally. I figured this out when I got in the car and noticed three things:

1. The ignition was on full "run" instead of the remote start mode.
2. The car was very warm and had that "imminently overheated" smell to it.
3. A significant amount of gas from my previously full tank had disappeared.
Clearly this is a sign that I should employ some self care. Or drop some of my responsibilities. Or take a nap. I think I'll do that one.

P.S. This isn't the first time I've done something along these lines. During one high-stress time in my 20's I parked in the parking lot where I worked and went inside only to have a friend drive by hours later and come inside to tell me that I'd left my car door hanging open. I'd just forgotten to close it. So this isn't exactly a new development. I can't decide if that's a good or bad thing.