What a bunch of bullshit. I worked until 3 in the morning and at 815 I just popped awake. Nothing I could do about it. Couldn’t sleep. I’m tired, but I can’t sleep at all. Also, we’re being forced to wean my kid off his morning nap in an attempt to get him more on the schedule of the daycare. The result is a very tired and frustrated little person screaming and taking up the time that’s usually reserved for me doing this dumb blog, answering emails, etc. It’s the last vestige of productivity that my day has. I need that time, but he seems to need it even more. Seeing him without this nap, I’m not surprised that he’s biting people at the daycare. He’s fucking exhausted. There’s no easy answer here folks. My wife took the day off and she and my mother in law are wrangling this poor child, but without them here it’d just be exhausted me vs. exhausted him in a battle of whines and stink-eyes.
Then, to top it off, I got this invite to go to a Chicago Film Festival screening of some movie. It’s a real movie with real movie money and people and backing and shit, and someone involved is a fan of my band or something. “Amazing!” I think. “I may be exhausted, and jesus may have jewed me out of my only chance to sleep for the week, and my kid may be a raving basket case and my parents and inlaws may be in town and I may have to stay out late practicing with my band every night until our show and wake up early with my lunatic baby every morning and I may be absolutely losing my mind about the change in the weather before our last days of shooting our movie and I may have to run around in shorts and a tshirt in 39 degree temperatures and rain pretending it’s summer all weekend next weekend, but man, I’m TRYING to be a filmmaker, and here’s some REAL LIVE filmmakers and production companies reaching out to ME! TALK ABOUT A BREAK! If nothing else, it’d be great to meet some people, see what a festival is really like and make some connections, right? Perfect. Everything’s coming together.
Well, not so fast, Billy Ray. For whatever reason, I got the emails today asking if I wanted to go to a screening tonight or tomorrow. When I responded, “hellz yeah!” I was told that the screening was actually over the weekend. That email was sent on Friday. I missed it.
Stupid goddamn fucking mother fucking shit staining email server that fucking sent me my emails 3 days late and ruined the one fucking silver lining in my goddamned life today! MotherFUCKER!!!!!!!!!
What a bummer. Now I look like an ungrateful dick, AND there’s no networking to be done for me. And let me tell you kids something. It’s all about networking. Oh, yeah, confidence has a lot to do with stuff, but there’s NOTHING that’ll make you more confident than going up against 400 people in a job interview when the guy conducting the interview is the guy you double teamed a hooker with the night before. Networking is everything. Look at Bush. Look at LaToya Jackson. All networking. Nepotism and networking. That’s the secret. Plastics, my ass.
My fucking baby is screaming. We gave up and decided to put him down, but now he’s over tired and just losing his mind. I have very little respect for middle management as a rule, and that holds true whether it’s some dipshit lifer bar manager or some cunty daycare manager. Sticklers for the very “rules” that keep them stuck in the crappy jobs they’re in. Pathetic. You try to do the “right thing” that they insist you do and you just end up fucking up your own life in a weird reflection of theirs. Now, because of napgate my kid’s ruined forever. Goodbye Harvard and hedge fund management.
The problem is, we’re not rich. We can’t really afford a nanny, and our daycare is expensive enough without even having any personalized care.
We went to this thing over the weekend where a bunch of preschools brought out little science fair type boards and had representatives standing there explaining why you should send your child to their preschool. It was nutty.
There were chain preschools, internet preschools (socialize your child right there in your home!), religious preschools, hippy preschools, one with a stern headmaster who (no shit) talked about how he used the classics of Homer (the Iliad and Odyssey) to teach the fundamentals of counting and shit like that. Of course, our child would have to be standard-to-gifted cognitively, so there’s that. Also, it’s twenty grand a year. Huh. Gifted? I dunno. He shits his pants and drools all the time, but he can say ‘izzy.’ Does that make him gifted? Or is he retarded? How the fuck do you gauge a one year olds cognitive prowess? I mean, granted, I’m a genius, but so were John Lennon and Elvis and Ryan O’neil and look at their kids. Doesn’t always carry on, you know?
I think we’re gonna go the route of just putting honey all over him and having the dogs watch him while we’re out, or pay some hobos. That should be all the best of play based and scholastic based curriculum, (not to mention a little ‘cautionary example’ action) right? Right.
Okay, he’s melting down. Gotta run.