Today was a lovely day. This past week hasn't been too busy at all, but in looking for things to write about, I invariably come up short. It's strange to look at your life retrospectively while in the process of living it, with a mind to the events that could be useful or insightful. I finished another book before the month changed, bringing my total up to 12 for the month of April. I'm pretty impressed with myself, and will review the last book of the month shortly.
I've also been playing the guitar fairly frequently, (I'm sure) to the chagrin of all my neighbors. I don't know if they like hearing She and Him and Deathcab for Cutie mutilated frequently with great abandon several times daily, but that's what happens when you live in an apartment. I've also been going to the gym religiously, and using the time on the elliptical to digest various texts that have been on my To Read list. I also made enough bread to feed a small army by the recipe detailed in the following video. The bread turns out light and moist with a pleasant crust every time, and the recipe is super easy.
Go here for the recipe. The video is pretty awesome, too.
Today was about as close to a perfect day as I could imagine, which is why I'm finally finding the time to blog about everything. I met up with a good friend at one, and we spent the day together until around seven. We went to the book store, did some shopping, got crepes, and talked for a long time in the sunshine. It was super comfortable, and I feel as though we've never been as close as we got today. I had an amazing day because of it. I also learned the American idiom "getting one's Irish up," which apparently means the same as "getting one's ire up." Etymological similarities, anyone?
After meeting up with him, he needed to get back home, and I needed to meet my dad, which I've been putting off for one reason or another for about a week. I finally got there, and found my little brother there as well. Dad and I set out my brother's homework for him, and explained some aspects of it to him while sitting down to tea and conversation. Within moments, there was an issue that involved throwing the homework to the side and staring blankly at the television, which was broadcasting some hockey event at maximum volume to drown out the ridiculous rap music of the neighbors'. I don't understand why it's necessary to blare a rap song whose words are literally "I don't give a fuck" after dark. As if that weren't all, they were intent on singing along, if you could call it that. I digress.
After I attempted to explain the assignment to him one more time, he threw his cell phone at the floor in a huff, and stormed off to the other room. I took the opportunity to relieve him of both his cell phone and his DS, which prompted an hour-and-a-half-long temper tantrum, the screams of which I refused to dignify with any response aside from "I can't hear you. When your voice is as quiet as mine, we'll speak." He took my car keys in an attempt to bargain, and if I weren't so caught up in the insanely psychotic silliness of it all, I would've found the opportunity to study the stages of grief fascinating on a micro scale. Sometimes, I wonder about my own humanity.
Eventually, he calmed down enough to deal with the situation, finished his homework, and received his phone and gaming system back. This was after he probably woke up every person in the neighborhood, threatened to kill himself out of desperation, and ran around screaming in pure frustration. It's difficult to be a child, and from my experiences helping with the raising of my little brother, I think I've found that I either never want children, or will raise them in such a way that they'll never be exposed to video games. Or caffeine. Maybe I should convert to Mormonism. Even better: I could be Amish. I'd have to learn how to quilt, sew, and see without corrective lenses. Maybe I'll get Lasik and then become Amish. I have always wanted to learn German.
After playing my dad in chess, I drove home to watch The Green Hornet, finish off the last of my bread, and speak with my mom when she came home about the Jerry Springer episode my brother had pulled at Dad's. Not that we discovered that anyone was sleeping with anyone else's cousin, farm animal, or blow up doll with the caveat of a pudding pool added for no particular reason. At all. Why would anyone assume that from the terminology I just used? I just don't know about children these days. The well-behaved ones all seem to be seriously disturbed, and the poorly-behaved ones are obviously flawed. There are no perfect people, and no perfect children, but it always seems as though a little nudge in the right direction will get them where you want them to go. I honestly don't know what to do about it.
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