It has been one heck of a long time since I have posted, and I think the most noteworthy thing to update my zero remaining readers about is that we had our second (of two and two only) kiddo in September. We had another boy by the name of Desmond Noisewater, and he is a very contented and happy young man thus far. He came a little bit early and unexpectedly so we had no one to care for his big brother, Erik Noisewater, during the birthing process. My parents got on a train to come watch Erik, but we had to take him to the hospital until they got into the city. Things progressed pretty quickly, and his mother was in quite a lot of pain and screaming, rightfully so. Erik looked really concerned and was saying, "What's wrong with mommy?" so I had to get him the hell out of there and back to the condo until my parents arrived. Wouldn't you know I ended up missing Desmond's arrival? A little bit of a drag to miss the birth of my son, but what is important was that he was born healthy. However, there is one minor mishap in that he has a low functioning and enlarged kidney due to some sort of mass inside his belly. It doesn't seem to be causing any problems for him, but it's still something in the back of our minds to make us worry and lose our minds about every now and again.

I'll make a confession here, because I know I can trust all of you. The second baby is not nearly as fun. With the first it is a lot of "Oh my God we have created life! We are keeping this youngster alive by feeding it! He has all our DNA and we are extending the survival of the human race!" Then the next time around it's more like, "For real? More sleep deprivation and live shits blasting during diaper changes and pee shooting into the wall and splattering all over me? And I'm trying to get the new guy taken care of while the older one won't leave the the F alone and won't put his dang shoes on?" All the magic and wonder you had with that first one is replaced with annoyance, and you have zero time for yourself. It's rough, I'll admit, but the alternative is leaving your kid as an only child, which my best friend and own mother can attest to is a crummy upbringing. So we do it. And don't get me wrong, we love our Desi-Bear (Yeah we call him that, so F-off), but it's just a matter of forcing yourself to be sure you're sure to will yourself into being as excited as you were for the first one and pay him as much attention as you did the other guy.

I just had to get back on the blog because I have been feeling like I am busy as hell with work and family but really losing my identity as an individual  - and on top of that feeling a little stressed out and depressed. I know that when I pump a blog onto the internets it keeps me more sane, happier, and it affords me a place to get my thoughts out. I know that when I go to a dark shitty place as I allow to let my negative thoughts spiral, one particularly nasty way I like to beat myself up is to let that inner dickhead voice say to me, "And what ever happened to all that writing you used to do, you loser?" So, the plan is to try to get on here and post a lot more, even if it's a quick few sentences on my phone during Erik's basketball or gymnastics practice. Help me out, guys. Instant message me to shame me for lack of posts every now and again. I welcome it.

What's on tap for this weekend? Kid shit. Always kid shit. But it's really what it's all about now; to see the kids happy is the best. We had a brunch at a theater nearby where you can meet Santa in one of the theaters. Anyone ever notice that all the Santas these days are actual old guys with authentic white beards? I swear to God every Santa I saw in the 1980's was a young guy with a beer gut and a fake white beard clipped behind his ears. This one was good, but he was more of the take a picture variety and not big on the "What do you want for Christmas, little boy" type." I think this stressed out Erik because he said he wanted some Transformers in a meek voice a handful of times, but old Santa with his actual old ears heard none of it. What I should of done is chimed in and said, "Okay, Erik. Santa is putting Soundwave and Shockwave down on his list and  Beardshis Elves will get right on building those boys for you." I always have stress and anxiety about the dumbest things ever like getting the picture, so I don't live in the moment and relax and think of what I need to. Why is every day bull crap so nerve racking for me? This is why I need to get my ass in front of a computer and blog more - because I have lots of thoughts like these that I cannot make sense of until I type them out.

Okay, blog buddies. I'm off to run down the blogroll to see what all of you have been up to in my admittedly long and inexcusable absence. I hope I can keep my pledge to get on here more, because I know it's good for me. Thank you.

So I'm married with our first baby on the way, but did you guys know that I was married once before? It's true. I was actually married for a whopping 8 months before my wife at the time decided that she should start sleeping with a Chicago Cop. At the time I was totally devastated, but now I would like to thank that man. Not only does he risk his life every day, but he got me out of a horrible marriage. She and I couldn't be more wrong for each other, so he did us both a favor. He did my wife, and he did me a favor.  It's weird because at the time I was so messed up about it that I hated all cops as a result, but now I would shake his hand and thank him from the bottom of my heart. 

But back when that whole thing was going down with the ex, I was an absolute mess. I was losing weight and couldn't sleep. One friend saw me and said I looked like death. Thanks! He was right. I almost laughed, but I couldn't. I'm a man who loves comedy, but nothing could make me laugh at the time. "Da Ali G Show" was new on HBO during that time, and he was the only guy who could get me laughing. This was a major revelation. If I could start laughing again, I could be myself again. Ali G, Bruno, and Borat became my therapists.

The second part of the puzzle was meeting other women, and I couldn't even think about that. I was fixated on my failed marriage and my depression. I moved out of our apartment downtown and back with my parents in the suburbs. My parents are wonderful people, but I was losing my mind and had to get the hell out of there. I would work and sleep all week in the burbs and then pack up a backpack to stay back in Chicago all weekend with friends. I would try to talk to women, but I was not in a good place. They don't want to talk to the sullen brooding guy. When you get dumped and you're young and stupid, you don't think you'll ever meet anyone again. Then one night an amazingly hot Asian Indian chick struck up a conversation with me, and I got her number. I don't think anything tangible came of that, but it gave me the confidence I needed. I remember when I packed up my car with my handful of belongings to move back into the city, I thought to myself that I would meet plenty of women and would be just fine. I remember gazing at the skyline on my drive in, and it was the first time I was really optimistic. My thinking at the time was: This will be a new chapter in your life, Dr. Kenneth Noisewater. 

I went out to the burbs yesterday to visit my dad because my mom is out of town for the week, and driving back to the city on the very same highway that I did so many years ago, I saw the skyline and was reminded how I felt that day. Moments like that are why this is my favorite city in the world and why Chicago's skyline has been at the top of this blog for so long. Thanks for listening, friends. Ali G and Associates were relieved of their duties of their duties as therapists in 2005. That role has been filled by you, seven readers. Thanks for listening, and have yourself a super-duper weekend. 

I'm watching "A Charlie Brown Christmas," and it's clear Charlie, with his self-proclaimed inability to be happy, has untreated childhood depression. And it doesn't help that he has absentee parents who are never around and his friends shit on everything he has ever tried to do, always reminding him of what a loser he is. Plus he is a bald 7-year-old, so maybe he has cancer too? I can't watch this depressing tale any longer . . .

You ever feel really depressed and you have no idea why?  It's one thing if you know why, and if that's the case, you can reason yourself through it.  Today there was no particular reason, and I was just stewing in misery for a couple of hours after I got home from work.  When LSD got home, I was a turd for a little while, and then I had to come clean and let her know that I was feeling down.  She wasn't feeling sad, just bored, and she said she needed a project.  I said she should make us some coasters because we need some coasters around this joint.

I don't really do projects these days, so when I feel like that, I need to drink, run, or write.  Tonight I decided to run, and I felt better almost instantly.  During this run, along with curing my depression, I came to these revelations:

1. I'm going to run the Oakland Marathon in March.  I need another race, and I think it would be cool to represent a city like that.  Oak Town!!

2. I don't think I can live anywhere that isn't near a body of water.  Right when I got to the lake part of the jog and saw the skyline, everything got better for me. 

3. There is one other place where I do my best thinking, but I really don't want to share too much about that part of my day.  Who am I kidding, my next post could very well be a Poop Post.

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When I got home from the run, LSD was on her computer looking up ideas for the coaster project.  I'm a lucky man. 

I wonder what is the best response is to a cashier when they ask how you're doing, and you're not feeling particularly great at the moment. Today I went with, "Eh. You know . . ."