Through The Looking Glass

My husband, Will Klein, is my favorite writer. Well, he’s tied with Shirley Jackson. But he is not dead or batshit crazy, and he is married to me, so he wins.

Earlier in the week he published an interview with me. Which I know you all are just holding back you comments on because you are so in awe of my brilliance. It’s OK, I understand. Now go say something, my feelings are hurt.

(He also has interviews up with Nova, Yojo, and Chris. Good stuff!)

Now it is my turn to interview him. Enjoy.

When did you decide you were/wanted to be a writer?
I don’t know. I wrote, and you’ve seen evidence, apparently at a very early age considering the hand-writing and the quality of the drawings… only, let’s be honest, they look the same at 33 as they did at five or six, or whenever…. my handwriting and stick figures, that is, look the same now. The drawings in question, look better with time. [ed. note: Will's early writings are absolute gold, and I hope to someday steal them from his mother and scan them]

I always said I was going to be an actor, and nowadays I often say that I stopped wanting to be an actor after I met some. This isn’t entirely untrue. Like the story about me crawling down an icy fire escape, naked, in search of a rubber duck.

I think I wanted to be a writer because writers create. I wanted to create something, and more importantly, to have an excuse to lock myself away from people and cut loose with some of my more self-destructive habits. I am sad to say, I knew I was going to smoke before I actually did smoke, because I viewed it as a solitary, angsty romantic thing to do. I knew the same about drinking–the comedy there is, I thought I’d be a scotch man.

But I think I was really writing, writing because I had to, writing because something was trying to claw it’s way out of my chest–probably at about fifteen or so. We’d have to ask Shelby. If I ever become famous, he can probably publish “The early works” just based on all the print-outs he used to keep. He was my first editor, which is black comedy if you know his reading habits.

Read the rest of this entry »

I went to put my hours-old mug of coffee in the microwave just now (heresy, I know) and discovered yesterday’s reheated but forgotten cup of the same.

Sigh.

I have three unfinished posts sitting in draft form. One of them is about how I have two unfinished posts sitting in draft form and can’t finish anything.

HA HA. Joke’s on me.

Andrea is on her way over and we will go to knitting tonight and I will probably eat something deliciously bad for me (though it will be hard to top the TWO grilled cheese breakfasts I had today, one this morning and one after I took a nap with Sam this afternoon). Maybe tomorrow I will feel better.

Righty says she already gave at the office. Sigh.

Will’s been interviewing writers on his other blog, and this week it is all about me! I am now an internet superstar.

Feedburner says 103 people read my blog via RSS. Holy crap! That’s 15 new people in the last two days! Must be a mistake.

I found the discussion of television and unschooling at Sandra Dodd’s website interesting. Lots to think about.

me: I’m just going to pump a little.

Breast: You’re going to what?

me: Pump. You know.

I place the horn-shaped bit over my breast.

Breast, muffled: Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

me: It’s for a good cause!

Breast: I prefer to give financially.

me: I didn’t say it was for charity, I said it was for a good cause. Shut up and lactate.

Breast: Nope. Can’t make me.

me: Please?

Breast: Na-na-na-boo-boo.

Sammy, in a cameo appearance: Mamama, mememe?

I remove the pump and he latches on.

Breast, letting down: Ahhh, that’s more like it.

I hastily switch back to the pump.

Breast: Oh, fuck it. Why not?

Total haul 1.75 ounces. This is going to be so much fun.

Will and I both have a tendency to be lay-about slobs on the weekend. We are so damn exhausted from the week that we don’t like to do anything at all when we don’t have to.

After Saturday we both admit that maybe perhaps possibly this is totally the wrong approach.

elevator from P2 | path to the door | escalator (down)

Friday night we had one of those knock-down blow-out fights that either ends in divorce or mind-blowing sex. Or, if you are worn out old bags like us, a tender hug before you fall into the separate beds you’ve been sleeping in because of the night weaning. Anyway. The fight was had, it was awful, and on Saturday we remembered why we married each other and started enjoying each other’s company again for the first time in weeks.

playing in the fountain in the park out front

Will made a huge breakfast and then we all got dressed and headed to the main library downtown. We haven’t taken Sam there in about a year, and so this is the first time he really enjoyed being there. (Not that he hated it before, it just wasn’t as much fun when he was small.) It was AWESOME. I love the library so, so much. Will and Sam laughed at me a little because I was literally skipping up the path to the door.

in the stacks | in the empty theater | in the stacks

After the library we went home, had lunch, and Sam took a good nap. Then we went to the Nails’ annual FeBREWary party and had some great beer. Sam had a good time, too. (I swear he played with the other kids, I just don’t want to put other people’s children on the internet.)

bouncy castle | the little face I love | stacking toy

Will and Sam fell asleep when we got home and I managed to stay awake till almost 10:00. Whoo!

Sunday was a much quieter day. Will made breakfast again. Sam napped for two and a half hours and Will and I got some writing done. The boys talked to Gramma on Skype. I knitted. We skipped the Oscars (no way to watch them anyway) and instead watched Charade.

It was lovely. Seriously, it was the best weekend ever.

And the big “DUH” moment of the weekend: we feel more rejuvenated when we go out and have fun than when we lay around doing nothing.

I prefer the Misfits when Michale Graves was the singer.

Two things, related.

One of the biggest issues I have with formal education is forced peer groups. While I do think that kids naturally gravitate toward other children around the same age, and I think that there is definitely something to be said for being on the same level developmentally as your friends, it seems to me that there is more value in mixed age groups, especially in a learning setting. Much as there is value in books above and below one’s reading level, there is value in being with people from whom you can learn (speaking very generally, people older than you) and who you can guide (generally again, those younger than you). A room full of people with the same experiences and knowledge can’t offer each other much. I think it’s pretty deliberate that school is set up this way, so that the teacher is the only one with new information to offer. I dislike it tremendously.

Sam’s friend Eamon is six and a half. Sam worships Eamon and loves to follow him around, copying everything he does. Six months ago when this started, Eamon hated it. “Mo-om, why is he following me?” and “Mo-om, Sam’s looking at me.” Eamon has a truck, similar to this one, that Sam loves to push around the room. This drove Eamon crazy, because it is his truck and he was just about to play with it (for the first time in ages). Then one day Eamon put Sam on the truck and pushed him around the room. He’d discovered that Sam’s annoying behavior was positive attention, and he found a way to get more of it. Sam laughed and smiled and basically treated Eamon like the greatest guy on the planet. Since then Eamon has delighted in showing Sam how things work and generally being admired. He still frequently gets frustrated when Sam messes up his things or looks at him, but they learn a great deal from each other. Since Sam is extremely unlikely to ever have any older siblings, I am extra grateful that he has Eamon (and Eamon’s big sister Eden, too).

Allison asked in the comments on my last post why we allow Sam to watch television. It’s a good question and I’m not sure if I have a satisfactory answer. While we have thought about it and discussed it, I’ve never tried to articulate it before. And frankly, I may feel a little guilty because I didn’t watch television as a child and I always thought I’d keep my kids from it, too — but I changed my mind. I’m also a little self-conscious about it because on the surface it’s inconsistent with the cloth diapering, breastfeeding, unschooling life we lead. But the fact is that every choice we make is thought out and chosen on its own merits, not because it fits the party line of some parenting style or other. (Not that I think anyone is accusing me of that. I don’t.)

The short answer is that TV is a medium that has value as any other does, and we are particular (sort of) about what he watches and how much. I think there is value in entertainment. It’s not a substitute for reading, ever. But it is not all bad.

We never watch broadcast television. Ever. We unplugged the antenna about four years ago, when Angel ended, and have only watched videos since. So Sam is not being exposed to commercials at all, unless you count the VHS tape of Beauty and the Beast, which opens with a coming soon preview for Aladdin (Sam is going to be very confused, because the announcer says “Coming to theaters this 1992 holiday season” and obviously that isn’t true). I realize there is some concern to be had over merchandising, but we’re not there yet — he is just not old enough to notice branded toys — and I’ll worry about it when we get there.

Except for this past week and a half, when I was sick and pretty much useless, Sam watches a limited amount of cartoons and musicals. He really likes The Sound of Music, Beauty and the Beast, and the old Max Fleischer cartoons, especially Betty Boop. Right now as I type* there is a Popeye cartoon on. Sam is sitting next to me, cuddling and watching. He gets up frequently to climb up and rearrange the shelves of DVDs. When he is watching, he laughs at the funny parts (and his sense of humor is really a joy to behold, if a little bit disturbing since he laughs hardest when someone falls down — oh wait, he is just his mother’s son). I think we will have to be pretty conscientious as he gets older, because in a lot of these old cartoons racism and sexism run rampant and I don’t think that’s a message I want Sam thinking is acceptable. But again — when we get there.

He also likes to play video games with his dad. He especially loves driving around in Grand Theft Auto. Which–I know. But his hand-eye coordination is great! And I think that playing video games has value like anything else we do with our time. (I keep using the word value, and I wish I had a better word. But I can’t think of one.) It is entertaining, it makes us think/solve puzzles, it can be relaxing, sometimes there is nifty storytelling…

And frankly, video games and television are part of our world. Will and I want to write movies for a living. Wouldn’t it be a tad ridiculous to shield our child from the creative world of his parents?

(Tomorrow I am just going to post photos. All this typing is exhausting.)

*I typed this hours ago. Right now he is going to bed with his Dad.