It begins...

I'm going to build a cabin this summer. This cabin is for my mom mostly, but it will hopefully be a place for family.  

     My thought is that I will document my process here on my blog. Today I've been meeting with contractors to do dirt work, bring power to the building, etc. So I figure now's a good time to start. The picture is the site where I'll be building.  I'll be building an A-frame. 24' wide, 30' long with a full basement. It will need to be finished in 12-15 months, but I go back to work in mid-August, so this will be a busy summer. 

     Feel free to ask questions in the comments. I'll try and keep up with this throughout. 

     -George

The power of words.

I don't care about who likes what pop song, or if someone else finds something offensive.  Because usually that's about your story and your sensitivity.  If you don't like it, don't listen to it.  So consequently I was (and am) very dismissive of the controversy over Robin Thicke's song "Blurred Lines."  But today my friend posted a link to an interesting project.  It would be hard for these images of sexual assault victims quoting their attackers to not make me think of that song.

Now I understand.

Does that mean the song is bad?  Should we ban it?  Should Thicke apologize?  No.  Don't listen to it if it makes you uncomfortable.  But what does this mean?  It means we all get to think more.  What should happen, and usually does, is that it makes me more conscious of what I say, what I teach my sons, what I teach my daughter, the jokes I make and who I make them to. All of it.  I reflect on my self and the world around me.  It might not change my behavior all the time, but it forces me to think about myself.  That is the engine of change.  I will never listen to that song again in the same way.  Too bad, 'cause it's catchy.  But it will be forever colored for me.  Good.  I've learned something.  Something I have very little perspective on.  I was able to chase away the guy who wanted to assault me when I was a kid.  I didn't have to listen to him talk.  But now I can imagine a shade of what that would have been like.  And what language can do.

Just think about it.

Here's an old blog post I never published.  Don't know why, but I'll post it now 'cuz I like what I said.

Finally watched the "Waiting for Superman" documentary over the weekend. After reflecting on it the past couple of days I don't have a real strong opinion. I think it's not very good but that's because it doesn't seem to know what it is in support of or against. It's just decrying mediocrity. I don't really think any school is perfect and very few do a truly great job of educating. Of course I see education as creating a well rounded individual who can think on their own. Passing college entrance exams and getting good grades have very little to do with that (in my minority opinion). So the reason I value public school so highly is that it exposes my children to the reality of the people and the world around them and they (hopefully) learn to deal with all different kinds of people. To be direct, public school is where you find the poor and middle class, and they are the ones I like. So I thought the movie was just sad because of what the kids had to go through. There were of course some valid points and some things I disagreed with. I think the current major teacher's unions are out of hand, I think tenure has become distorted. But I also think that the solution is not necessarily merit pay or the abolishing of the rights of collective bargaining (which the film implies, but does not state). I also agree with the film that the solution is not necessarily more money. (Although I would love to see school funding keep pace with inflation) But what is far more important is allowing schools to focus on education and not rules, tests and benchmarks. If the administration and the teachers were united in a goal of being good teachers and could spend money and time as they thought was useful and if people were allowed time to innovate and (God forbid) teach, things would improve.  But really, the only good education you can have a big impact on starts and ends at home. 

I was born in 1974.  I graduated from high school in 1992.  When we were in high school we were growing up in a time between MTV and iTunes.  The music world was going through another one of it's constant changes that everyone thinks is special because it's their change, in their time.  I haven't thought much about what it all was, what it all meant much until my friend shared with me a couple movies about music that brought it all back.  Sound City and Pearl Jam 20.  The two bands that those movie brought back to me in vivid memories and feelings were Pearl Jam and Nirvana, but also Soundgarden and Alice in Chains and The Screaming Trees and everyone else you probably can list better than me.  But it also brought back in a different way Metallica and Megadeth and Anthrax and Exodus and Sepultura and Slayer and all those other bands that I can probably list better than you.

But the important thing here is that we all attach an unrealistic importance to our time and the music that goes with it.  I might wonder why people hate me for hating The Beatles, but I will probably hate you for hating Metallica.  So I guess we're square.

Before and after

After tearing it completely apart to find the leak, waiting for the expensive and large part to arrive, putting it back together to discover a new leak, overdiagnosing that problem and finding a blessedly simpler cause all while enduring over a week of not having clean underwear, I have tamed the wily beast that is my Kenmore front loading washing machine. I am now sitting in a chair, gloriously watching it manhandle my panties.

-- Sent from my Palm Pre

3 fingers of milk at the Carnegie Deli.

-- Sent from my Palm Pre

This must be stuck in my craw...

Unions are not about money. Unions are not about benefits. Unions are about fairness. That statement could easily be directed at most labor unions or the people who hate them. Why do labor unions exist? To try and achieve safety and equality in the workplace. If my one voice is the only one brave enough to ask my employer to treat me like a fellow human being, it does not carry much weight. But an organized group of employees asking for fairness may be heard. Especially if they're loud about it. It doesn't take much looking through a newspaper to see stories that prove that without someone loudly asking for fairness, those in power tend not to give it. Just ask Libya. Humanity is flawed. Unsafe working conditions, unfair pay for those who do not look like us, and inequality in general all happen whether we think we're above it or not. So if you think organized labor is evil, you're an idiot. If you think organized labor is all that is good and right with the world, you're an idiot. But the ideal? The ideal of a group of workers standing together to ensure that they are treated well by those who have the power? That is the only thing that can save us from ourselves. (This applies to politics, religion and sex as well) So perhaps instead of saying everything is wrong or everything is right, we should just work for change. If you see something wrong with the effect of labor unions, (I do.) get out there and try to change them. Run for office. Vote with your head AND you heart. Speak your mind. And stand up with your fellow man.

"People's Court"? Sounds kinda communist if you ask me...

Nuanced views are what we're supposed to strive for right? Nothing should be clear-cut. Are the workers right in Wisconsin, or the Governor? Is a non-violent revolution in Egypt a good or a bad thing? Is the end of what's-his-fucking-name's reign in Libya awesome? Or not?

I struggle with this stuff. I was raised pro-union. My Mom was president of her teamsters local. My best friend's dad was a union rep for AAFSCME and fought for the rights of public workers in the state of Minnesota. My dad had a beard in the early 60's. I'm a dues paying teamster myself. But I'm also on the negotiations committee for my local schoolboard and have to negotiate a contract with a bunch of union teachers every 2 years. Is there an answer to Wisconsin's problems? No. Unions don't fix everything and unions don't ruin everything. They're just supposed to address SOME needs. That, I think is a nuanced view. I think the governor of Wisconsin is a fool to try and destroy public unions. I think "fair-share" membership in unions is an idea whose time has passed.

Why is humanity so hamstrung by the "US vs. Them" mentality. To be right, someone else does not have to be wrong.

Read the comments on any news site's coverage of the recent political upheavals. Apparently Egypt will be free and awesome or sink into an Iran-like era of radicalism. Only. The leaving of Quaddafyi (I think I made that spelling up) will be the greatest blow ever struck in the name of Democracy or it will mean more bloodshed and anti-Americanism (a rather selfish perspective).

This is, of course, not a new problem. And I don't have any answers. I just wanna feel like I'm not supposed to get angry every time I open my eyes a little farther. Maybe I should blame Twitter. I'm pretty sure Gadhafi does.

My new draughtsman.

-- Sent from my Palm Pre

THEATRE!!

I have worked in the theatre, in some form, for over 23 years now. Sometimes I get tired of the hectic life it engenders, and sometimes, something comes along that reminds of why I chose this path. Today I found out that the dream of my friend (and many others) is about to come true. Huge will open a home for long-form improv in the Twin Cities. I enjoy theatre for a lot of reasons. I'm a mechanically minded person so the technology interests me. I like to make magical things happen. I like being the center of attention, etc, etc.

But I DO theatre for one reason. Theatre can change lives. And this new one, I think, already has. And will continue to do so. Congratulations Nels, Jill and especially Butch and everyone else who has worked to make this place a reality.

Now go see the shows. Starting this Sunday at 8pm.

We built a stage for improv.

Contribute money to help put some seats in front of it @ hugetheater.com

The empty space

I have a strong affinity for a dark, empty theatre. Perhaps it's the feeling of potential. Or that I'm weird.

Today I miss the man I never met.

My Grandpa didn't die in combat when he served in World War II or Korea. He was killed by cancer. But when I think of him waiting outside the recruiter's office on December 8th, 1941 I think of the many men standing with him who did. Then, as now, those who can often least afford it pay the highest price for our right to take the day off and grill some burgers. Better not burn one today.

The death of EVERYTHING good...

From a great review: "It is 146 minutes long. . . This is an entirely inappropriate length for what is essentially a home video of gay men playing with giant Barbie dolls." --Lindy West

When going to work feels dumb.

That's 2, count 'em, 2 cars in the parking lot. Stupid theatre.

This is why my life is better than yours.

. . . but in our selves.

There's a bulletin board in the hallway of the school where my kids go. Each month they put a different class of kids up there as "Our Stars." There's a little "interview sheet" underneath each picture. A set-up if I ever saw one, there is a spot that says: "My Hero" and leaves a blank for them to fill in who their hero is. When we went in for conferences the other night, my son pointed out the board as we ran past it and said that he was on the board. After I read "My Daddy" I looked at him and I could see that he pointed out the board so I would see that. I said "I'm your hero??" and we went on to see his teacher as I asked what heroic things I had done, expecting no answer and getting none. But, even though it is plain to see that that question is asked because that is often the answer it will illicit, it got to me.

I am reminded of when I was walking at the ball field by Lake Nokomis with my dad and told him that the baby was gonna be a boy and I wanted to name him Charles. My dad's name. My dad was a drunk when I was young and wasn't there much as I got older, but he's my dad. He looked at me with concern and asked if I was sure I wanted to do that. Trying to say that he wasn't sure he wanted that boy to be much like him or that he didn't deserve the honor. Maybe both. But I said I was sure.

I'm hard on my kids because I don't know how to be calm. I yell at them an awful lot and I swear at them too. Yes I tell them I love them every single day and I hug them and kiss their little heads, but I'm no hero. So even though when I saw that bulletin board I got awfully close to weepy and it makes me unspeakably proud that my boy sees me as a man to respect, I hope that Charlie grows up and thinks of me as a dad who kept trying to get better at it, but not as a hero. Because if I'm a hero then he has no reason to improve on the model.

What you need to do. Right now.

I really have no idea who or how many people read my blog, but this post is for all of you. I have some friends. These friends are the best kind of friends who have dreams. And their dream (and consequently, mine) is for them to open a home, a theatre dedicated to the art of Improvisational theatre.

As you may know, I have made my life and now my living in traditional theatre. That being said, I have long felt that Improv has that vitality and life that traditional theatre sometimes lacks. It speaks to all of us and, as art, it is as important as the work of Picasso, Mozart, Broadway and yes, even reality television. To have a theatre solely dedicated to that art in Minneapolis is not merely a desire or a dream. It is an absolute necessity.

The theatre has a name. It is Huge. And they have a way for you to help. If you are afraid of the outside world, you can make a tax deductible contribution through your friend, the computer. If you would like to go outside and feel the sun and the warmth of an amazing performance, go to the fundraiser show this friday at Intermedia Arts in Minneapolis. I'll be there, and I hope to see you.

Ready to wrestle with his mean face on.

Just me and the boy at a saturday wrestling tournament. 

Seriously. I came a little.

1st picture: heaven
2nd picture: where normal people would stop.
3rd picture: fuck yeah.

Thank you GATES BBQ in Kansas City, MO.