Another Nels / Ralph Song: Orion

Not sure why Nelsie wanted this named Orion, but there it is.

I played toy glockenspiel, and did percussion with a bottle opener. Nels played a strainer with a fork, and ran the effects. Frankly, I think he’s a little effects heavy, but OH WELL.

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

Download Orion

A day at the races

A day at the races, originally uploaded by ralphhogaboom.

Bon Appetit

It started with the Sextracker statistic I stumbled over in a tech journal.

“70% of all internet pornography viewing is done between the hours of 9AM and 5PM.”
–Sextracker.com

Then, an employee brings in a home computer. “My child has been looking at porn. Can you help me track the activities?” Sure, during lunch breaks. Then — “How do I look at browser history? I think my boyfriend has been looking at porn. LOTS of porn.” I wonder if that has anything to do with the darkening skies, rain, etc driving people back inside.

The interesting thing here is that’s the conflict isn’t stemming from looking at naked people. It’s from secrets. In both cases, people are hurt that those who view aren’t open about it.

We’re supposed to be enlightened in America, right? Porn 50 years ago seems like National Geographic photo essays on naked natives. Or the chunky pulp stuff which gradually gave way to Betty Page, the golden age of pinups. But today, we have events celebrating the artistic side of porn. We have Gina Lynn’s column at Wired (yes, I read it), Sex Drive. We have Dan Savage, columnist for the Stranger, who is so over the top I feel queasy when I read him. We have researchers showing monkey porn to male monkeys (I couldn’t make this up). We have the very people in my office that came to me for help saying “… and I understand being curious, and wanting to see it …” They’re stressing their understanding side.

It would be so unhip to condemn porn.

In both of the above cases, the person worried tried to separate the action (viewing porn) from the trespass (keeping a secret / lying). I was pulled in initially for my technical skills in sussing out the porn, but gave advice anyway.

I don’t think you can keep these things separate, because the action is what drives the trespass. If someone wasn’t confused about what role porn should play in their life, they hide it. They don’t feel confident with seeing it, and so their insecurity compells them to hide.

It’s funny, because the thing that would clear this up is confrontation. But when you’re hiding something, you figure out how to do it well. A constant focus on clearing the web browser history, or hiding your magazines, or whatever else you’re insecure about. I say funny because the root of the issue is there, and it’s being ignored by the focus on hiding. A hider isn’t working on that root, only on hiding.

Until somebody gets wise and it’s knock, knock, we need to talk.

Uncomfortable

This is hard for me to admit.

When I’m at work, I’m a buoyant fount of comedy and helpfulness. I’m significantly less so at home.

I now generally have a tendency towards low self esteem. I default to Deny, Failure, and Loss. But as far as my fatherhood, I take it seriously. I put time and thought into my actions. I put a lot of work into it. To confess less than peachy at home is hard.

There was this conference I was going to go to. The Mankind Project. More of a ‘finding yourself’ retreat, but I imagine it as something with mannish versions of The Trust Game. One of the testimonies in the brochure I had read something like this:

“I was in wonderful relationships with my family, but I wasn’t expressing who I was. I had lost the exuberance of my youth, and this weekend I found that and am now sharing who I am with my family. It’s been life changing.”

I found some truth in that, in relation to the work/family dynamic. I mean, what is it about my Dadness that can’t be as lighthearted? A visitor wouldn’t see it. They’d see that I get down on my hands and knees and play – often, too much even. I get grass stains on my work slacks because of it. They’d see I let my kids climb all over me, and I make jokes often with my wife.

But it’s not the same, it’s not really me. It’s just a part of me.

The old me, before kids, was a bit flamboyant. I took better personal care of my self and how I dressed. I was a wise-ass, all the time. I was very upbeat and lighthearted. I really enjoyed being around myself.

I can’t tell where the darkness creeped in. I somehow became someone different at home. Please don’t misunderstand me – I don’t prowl the halls at midnight like a savage beast with blood dripping off my fangs. I get home and immediately pick up my kids in my arms, and go play. We set the table, we all have dinner together. I usually get to bathe both of them and put them to sleep. I Am Not A Dad Who Comes Home And Sits In A Recliner To Unwind. I strongly reject that concept.

What I’m trying to say, and what I fear will be misconstrued, is this:

I don’t understand why I act differently at home and feel less like myself. I don’t know where the real me goes, and I’m uncomfortable scared about that.

Having admitted this to myself, for the first time, I wonder what tonight will be like.