Citizen 1,235,824

Oh, I do try to hang in there. I really do. I know better days are coming. At 4:30 AM this morning I was holding my one-year-old trying to get him to go back to sleep, and it was frustrating, and I had no one to help me. I know single mothers have this experience all the time, and I know that my one-year-old has the same experience as well. I finally got him down after rocking him back to sleep for 45 minutes or so, stepping back and forth in this dance that seems to comfort him. I watched some of an episode of the Wire to stop myself from dwelling on the situation that has lead to being a single parent, co-parenting with their mother. When I finally was brave enough to try lying down again, All things considered, I got through the night relatively unscathed. He slept a solid six hours straight-through before beginning his routine of waking every hour or so. I slept about six hours in total last night, though not consecutively. Tonight, I'll do it all over again. When I'm exhau

When I started the Charlottesville Podcasting Network , one of the tenets was that nothing would be deliberately taken down. The idea was to establish a community archive of various recordings and the goal is to have them up in some form in perpetuity. As a radio journalist, I hated the idea that something I created for the airwaves was considered disposable. Why put a ton of work into something that would only last a few minutes, when there would theoretically be people interested in the content for years to come? Well, I have an example of how this has actually come to fruition. On November 20, 2006, I posted an archive recording of WINA's Charlottesville--Right Now with Coy Barefoot . The guests were John Hunter, a teacher at Venable Elementary Schools, and filmmaker Chris Farina. They were talking about Hunter's World Peace Game. Flash forward two and a half years and someone found the archive, heard it, and then wanted to get in touch with Hunter. Commenter Susan Palmer w

Winter still has another month left to throw new darts at me, but I've become more adept at swerving. The dust from the continental shift is settling, but it is not time to dance. Not quite yet. The planets are still readjusting and there's no regular orbit. Still, the transition is proceeding more smoothly than one might expect. I think I've made my way through the five steps of grief. I think I've accepted what has taken place and I'm beginning to enjoy my life again. Last night, I had a rare Saturday night out on the town with friends and not once did I feel sorry for myself, or sad that my marriage is over. There should be a merit badge. Last night's destination was the X-Lounge, a place that previously felt absolutely alien to me when I was in a relationship. My friends and I hung out on the upper deck and watched people for most of the evening, complaining about the low quantity of alcohol in our drinks. My friends attempted to explain how a man should d

I believe that everything happens for a reason, but there's a trickster who prevents us from ever knowing why. I also believe that we are given markers from time to time to let us know we're on the right path. Is there a right decision? What is the best way to get from here to there? I don't know. But, I do know, fortune cookies are usually spot on. Here is today's: "Obstacles are those frightful things you see what you take your eyes off the goal..." Great advice. But what is my goal?

Everyone tells me that running on the road is not the same as running on a treadmill. And they are right. I am trying to transition to hitting the pavement, but there are many factors that keep me going to the gym to hit the Star Trac. I don't want to have to choose at this point, and I can't afford to have the question distract me from the key reason I'm exercising - to get my head straight. When I first started at the gym over two months ago, I was terrified. Sweating in public? Ick. Who wants to see that? Of course, I've realized the answer is and should be "no-one." When I realized it wasn't a scary place, I was able to turn my daily visits into my daily medication while I tried to avoid the pitfalls of self-destruction. But, as I've been upping my miles people have been saying I've got to hit the road soon if I have any hope of completing the ten-miler. People have been very kind by suggesting trails, suggesting routes, and so on. They say tha

I've not been able to work very much in the last few months. I've been distracted by the roller coaster ride I've been on. One day I will be able to figure out a way to process that, but today, I finally had all of the elements in place to begin that journey. Sudden bouts of sadness shut me down cold. Even though I might not feel sad, I suddenly become incredibly indecisive. I can't get my mind off of the recent past and the wormhole of previous negative experiences threatens to spaghettify me back to a time of crisis. Today, however, I went to work. For the first time in ages, I put two computers together and began to work on a parallel track on two separate projects. I broke mental logjams that were preventing me from moving forward, in part because I scheduled today as time to work. I'm not one for schedules. There are too many of them. I like to try to keep things in my head more, and it tends to work. The various schedules I have on Google calendar are all jumb

I did okay. I went out. I ignored the fear. Had fun. Bitched about life. Bitched about things in my life. Watched the US beat Mexico 2-0 and cheered in public at each goal. Have a new appreciation for the coolness of West Main Street. In general, life is good. Kill the fear. That's my 2009 mantra.

I'm a social phobic, which generally means I hate going anywhere for the first time. As I sit here typing this, there are two events I'd like to attend. And, unfortunately there's this massive fear sitting inside of me that might prevent me from going to either one. And it sucks. Especially now that I'm a single guy. Social phobia has always been an obstacle to me making friends and it's always been a barrier in my relationships. I've been this way since I was a kid. I get so scared that people will automatically laugh at me or not want me to be around. I worry that my clothes aren't right. That I'll say the wrong thing. Will I run into someone I really don't want to see? It's totally and utterly in my head and the product of my imagination, but that doesn't stop it from being a terrible burden for me. This fear becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy and a fallacy that's absolutely hard to shake. I cope by sticking to a routine. I've cop

The snow is melting slowly. My dog Billy darts towards every single patch in the hopes of chewing a quick drink on our walks. But by the end of the day, all of the solid water should be gone. The beauty of a few days ago becomes the sustenance for the spring. I'm typing while watching a football match, resting my right leg before tomorrow's scheduled big run. I'm hoping to do at least 7 miles on the road, something I've not yet done. My left ankle is also resting. Thanks to twitter , I've learned that I need to go and get some custom shoes or inserts made so that my new habit doesn't end prematurely thanks to crippling lower leg pain. The mental pain I've been in seems to be fading, but I don't know if it will pass as quickly as today's snow. For the most part, each day is easier than the one before. However, phantom twinges of sadness crop up. I'm much better now about riding out the times of darkness, but it's still a fairly difficult time

I began experimenting with the Charlottesville Podcasting Network four years ago this week. At the time, I was looking for an interesting project to work on here in Charlottesville. I wanted something else to keep me here, because I had a very important reason to stay. At the time, a third of my income came from was producing stories for WVTF Public Radio on a regular basis. I wanted the radio stories I produced to have the chance to be online. I felt I was putting much time into them to have them merely go out two or three times over the airwaves. The second third came from managing the bar at Court Square Tavern , and the other third came from miscellaneous freelance work I could find. One of those freelance sources was working with Katherine McNamara of the journal Archipelago had mentioned something to me about wanting to create something called Charlottesville Public Broadband. I had worked with her on a project on the DNA sting, a project that I don't believe got completed