Does Natalie Dee read this blog?

30 09 2008

While the answer is undoubtedly no, she did read my mind and post up this comic today:

Damn you, Natalie Dee

OK, OK. I'll stop.

She’s right. I should be happy that while I don’t work near my home, I at least have one to return to every evening, and it’s not being foreclosed on any time soon.


Home is where the heart is, and the body should be.

29 09 2008

I’ve talked time and again about how, while I say I like my job, I dislike the monotony, boredom and general lack of satisfaction that sometimes come with it. Many times, I feel like I’m sleepwalking through the day, writing one thing after another that nobody outside of my office will ever read and be moved by. But I think the part that gets me most is the commute.

Sure, I only drive 45-55 minutes to what amounts to little more than a suburb of Kansas City, but it still doesn’t feel like home. It doesn’t feel like the community that, over the last 20 years, has embedded it’s self into my self and vice-versa. And that’s what makes me think, sometimes, that I want out. It’s what makes me know, all the time, that I’m only in this for the short term.

I want to go home. I want to make my place a better place. I want to pay taxes to my city and my state. I want to continue to soak up and reshape the old neighborhood. If I have to do sometimes unsatisfying work, fine. I understand not all writing can come from the inner depths of the soul. But if I have to write dreck, I’d like to do it in an environment that I am both comfortable in and affectionate towards. I’m tired of zipping down the interstate for what amounts to about two hours of my day just to do something I only mildly enjoy in a place that I am wholly indifferent towards.

William Wordsworth once wrote:

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.–Great God! I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn,
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.

And all this in the 18th century. I wonder what he would think of me. Flying by the midwestern oaks and the streets and homes and people that I love at 75 mph in a car designed to shut out the outside world. All so I can go to a place where little in Nature is mine and invent new ways to keep the public “getting and spending.”

Yes, it does seem like I have given my heart away for now. Hopefully, one way or another and some day soon, it will soon return home.

Things I want to do — vol. 1

26 08 2008

Sometimes, when you have a job and a house and a mate and a life built up for yourself, it’s hard to have the time or energy (mostly energy) to get up and get out and experience the world. You start to sleep-walk through your days, and one becomes the same as the next. You get tired and bored and less interesting.

And as much as I like being employed and a home owner and a husband-to-be, I’ve gotta wake up. That’s why I’m starting the list of things I’ve always wanted to do. The aim, from here on in (have you ever noticed that ‘from here on in’ and ‘from here on out’ actually mean the same thing? Crazy.) is to be constantly checking things off the list, and adding them as well. That way, I’ll never run out of things that I really, really want to do with my life.

Well, here goes nothing.

  1. Write on a bathroom wall.
  2. Learn to draw.
  3. Learn to make beautiful music.
  4. Make love more often.
  5. Write my future wife a love note every day. This may or may not help with #4.
  6. Land a freelance client who’s business I really believe in.
  7. Spend at least one night on every continent — excluding Antarctica. Too cold, man. Just too cold.
  8. See a Broadway show.
  9. Go to a game at every Major League ballpark in the country.
  10. Learn to enjoy play and forget competition.

Well, 10 seems like a pretty good start to me, eh? Oh, wait. I have one more.

  • Ask readers what they really want to do.

Hey, I think I can get that one done right now. So, all you readers out there — what do you REALLY want to do with your time on this big ball of dirt we call Earth?

Thank you, everybody

25 08 2008

This weekend was a very busy, but very fun one. Friday, Niki and I welcomed two new members of the family into our home (ok, so it was only a washer and dryer, but hey — you gotta start somewhere) and went to dinner courtesy of 75th Street Brewery.

Saturday, four of my very best friends threw me one of the very best parties I’ve ever been to, and certainly the best one that was ever thrown for me. From the grilling to the game to the party bus and all the free beers that were placed lovingly in my hand by those guys, I truly enjoyed every minute of one of my final evenings as a bachelor.

And just when I thought nothing more could go my way, one of those same four friends had the heart (and wallet) to pay for my lunch on Sunday as well. Having worked in an entry-level position for the last year or so, I definitely know the value of a dollar, and my buddies happily spent more than a few on me over a couple of days.

Then, as if all this wasn’t enough, 11 of my closest adult friends (well, they’re more like surrogate parents) threw me a big bash that included dinner, drinks and a nice collection of man-centric gifts that only a Kinner would love.

All in all, I had an awesome time and, once again, can’t think you all enough for all that you’ve provided me not only this weekend, but throughout our respective relationships. It is true that, like the Beatles always say “I get by with a little help from my friends.” Thanks again, folks. I truly do appreciate you all.

Oh, and pictures of all the festivities are forthcoming, once I get a chance to collect them all up.

Introducing: Inspiration

19 08 2008

From time to time on Creative Petrol, I’ll be posting various things that I really don’t want to forget. Sometimes it will be a picture, sometimes a video, and sometimes just a few words. This time, you’ll see, it’s a few sentences on fatherhood, form the photo essay entitled Mother by Jim Erickson. It reminds me what kind of person, husband and father I hope to be.

Here’s the excerpt:

“Sometimes my dad had to pitch in and help with the task of being “mother.” My father, Romaine Erickson, was a worker in a tire factory. None of his friends, who called him “Lefty,” would say that he was “in touch with his feminine side,” but he was. He had many of the traits you would normally associate with Mother. Lefty’s intuition was to nurture. He possesses a sweetness and generosity that has always given me a feeling of being home.

A father who possesses kindness, calm, and a soft, nurturing hand. I know this particular paragraph is written about Romaine Erickson, but I hope one day something similar is written about Nicholas Kinney.

Check out Jim Erickson’s Mother on Amazon.