Ftrain, by Paul Ford

I decided that I needed a philosophy of raising children, and it needed to be dumb enough that it would get me through a screaming little boy or girl at 2AM. So I came up with this mental checklist:

• What does the kid want?
• Can her or she have it without hurting the kid or their dad?
• No? What do I want?
• Can I have it without hurting the kid or myself?
• No? Find a compromise.

And repeat until everyone can sleep.

The thing they repeat over and over about babies is that they are hyperaware of stimulus. Loose threads, odd sounds, too much light or heat. Dirty diapers or an unswaddled foot are reasons to grieve. It seems like too much fuss for so little, but then again they are little. And they're high-end equipment, these tiny children. Like costly tube amps.

But I don't think I'm very different. There is so much stimulus in the world and I am constantly overstimulated. Except instead of crying out and waiting for help, I am motive; also, no one is running to soothe me if I just stretch out there and sob. And I have the use of my arms and legs. And so I find good ways to soothe in booze and cereal.

Work is basically like making a pearl: You irritate the organism until it makes something beautiful. That was the Steve Jobs method. Most people lose sight of the pearl.

My best friend is about to move away to North Carolina on Saturday. I'll throw away the keys to his apartment, which I've carried around for 12 years or so. He's moving there to be with his girlfriend and closer to his family.

To which: Shit.