Someone please tell this machine I'm not a machine?
8:47 a.m. on 2005-05-15
Okay. Juniper spends most of her time purposefully moving objects from one place to another, and back again. Apparently she thinks that the sum total of all adult actions is the arbitrary transportation of all things to and from various locations. And, you know, she's right. I've started babysitting a one-year-old boy two days a week. Juniper is happy about this, except when I actually pay attention to him. Then she has a fit. This boy is very easy-going and wonderful, falls asleep on a dime, sits and grooves out happily to whatever happens to be going on, submits docilely to Juniper's gigantic and equilibrium-demolishing hugs. It makes me wonder what I'm doing to make my daughter such a high-strung freak. Wait. I don't want to wonder about that too much. Oh well, I yam what I yam. So. I joined a band. I am a token female musician in my friend's band called "My Name Me", in the city of Olympia, where the male-dominated musical establishment will not let you lug your equipment on stage unless you are (1.) a personal friend of theirs (2.) gay, or (3.) female. I don't feel like this is too much of an exaggeration. Olympia, however wonderful it may be, is fueled by white, middle-class guilt, a guilt that made all the girls I knew in college at least try to be lesbians, causes boys to apologize for having penises, occasions many a sentence to begin with the words "I know I'm just a white, middle-class guy, so what I say doesn't matter, but...". So, while I am deeply offended to be used in this way, I will still attempt to rock the world. If I can keep from getting into deep emotional doo-doo with my friend Brian, the "leader" of the band. I dream of a time when it is the quality of the music that matters, not the quality of the band members' genitalia. But, when that happens, I won't get to play. So, whatever. I get to see the Pixies and Modest Mouse play! Yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay. This will be the cause of much distress for my dear daughter, because it is an all-day show, and she will have to go to sleep without me, but she will live. She needs to get used to sleeping without my poor, long-suffering nipple in her mouth.
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